Thin Air (Complete EDITING)

5- Seth

5 Seth June 28, 2002

Thank God for Whitney.

I overdid it at physical therapy this afternoon, again, and am really paying for it now. I'm grateful that we found such a mature kid to babysit and help out around here. I can't even fill my daughter's sippy cup without leaning against the fridge, let alone put dinner together.

I thought Sidney wore me out before my accident, but now I can't keep up with her at all. From my spot in the recliner I can see stray mac and cheese noodles smushed into the carpet and a mess of dolls in the middle of the walkway where my sweet girl has her babies tucked under a blanket for 'nite-nites'.

I'll have to ask Whitney to pick the toys up so Erin doesn't trip when she comes home from work. I feel horrible leaving all the daily burdens on my wife's shoulders. It shouldn't be like this. That's why I've been pushing so hard to walk again.

Whitney's soft voice carries down the hall. She's singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", signaling that it'll only be a matter of minutes before Syd falls asleep.

After breaking into a sweat trying to lift myself from the couch, I admit defeat. There is no way I'm getting my pain pills without Whitney's help. On the good days, I can use my walker to get over to the counter myself, then lean against it while I open the box. Today is not a good day.

When the muffled sound of Whitney's footsteps round the corner I call out to her. "Hey, can you grab me a pain pill from the box on the counter, please? The code is 0704." She raises a questioning brow while entering the code. "That's Erin and Sydney's birthday."

"Ah, how sweet, I didn't know they shared a birthday," she says, handing me a pill.

A flash of pain causes my body to jerk when I lean forward to grab my glass of water from the table. "They do. Those two light up my life like the Fourth of July." I joke, trying to distract from the fact that I've just spilled water all over my hand and the end table.

She's nice enough to laugh at my cheesy dad joke and ignore the mess I've made as we watch the TV guide scroll past.

"Is Family Guy okay?" I ask, not sure if the crude humor is entirely appropriate for a high schooler, but also tired of watching the same sixty-three channels loop by.

"Yeah, that's fine."

We watch a couple of episodes and make small talk while waiting for Erin's shift to end. It's nearly 11:30 when a sense of wrongness causes my skin to prickle. Erin's always home by 11:10.

"Hey, Seth, have you heard from Erin? I'm going to need to leave soon. My parents will flip if I'm not home by midnight."

"I haven't, but I'm sure she'll be walking in the door any minute. Go ahead and head out. I'll be fine. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble," I say. The nervous shake of my hand is hardly noticeable when I hand her a twenty from the drawer in the side table. "Erin's off tomorrow, so I'll see you next Friday. Thanks for everything."

"No prob. You and Syd are my favorite babies to sit," she teases as she walks out the door.

I need to get back to normal. Being babysat is bullshit.

I try to wait it out for a couple more minutes but quickly give into the need to check on her. The flat ringing is cut short by her bubbly voice- Hi you've reached Erin. I'm probably chasing a toddler right now. If you leave your name and number I'll get back to you as soon as I catch my breath.

She may still be at work and unable to answer so I try sending a text message. She doesn't reply. I don't know if the slow nauseous boil in my stomach is from Erin's absence or the medication.

She probably got to chatting with the guy who takes over the night shift on weekends. It's fine. Stop being a worrywart.

When Erin still isn't home or answering my calls and texts after midnight, I call the store. Her coworkers bored voice answers on the second ring and lets me know that Erin rushed out the door as soon as he got there.

Is it too soon to call the police?

I decide it isn't. She's a small, young woman walking home late at night in a dark uniform.

"Auburn Police Department non-emergency line, Heather speaking. What is the nature of your call?"

I know Heather, her son goes to the preschool we had Syd in before my accident. She and Erin liked to have playdates.

"Hi Heather, it's Seth Murdoch. Erin hasn't come home yet and I was wondering if there was anything reported between the convenience store and here."

"Oh hey Seth. Long time no talk. Nothing has come across my desk. All of the calls so far tonight have been noise complaints and reckless driving. Seems like the graduation parties are a little unruly this year."

"That's right, I forgot it was that time of year."

"Sure is. Before you know it, it'll be our little ones crossing the stage and moving their tassels."

"Yeah, feels like that was just us. Anyway, do you think you could have an officer take a look? I know it's a big ask but with Erin walking-"

"Car still down?" She asks. I don't like the pity in her voice but I understand it.

"Yeah, it is. Everything is down. Me, the car, our bank account." I say this lightly but the reality is that things are hard. Very hard.

"I bet. Maybe Erin ran into an old friend and decided to hit a party to blow off some steam." She suggests, trying to be helpful.

We end the conversation after Heather assures me she'll have an officer drive her normal path when they get a chance. It's highly unlikely that Erin would have gone anywhere other than home, especially without letting me know. Motherhood has turned her into a homebody.

I do the only thing I can—sit on the couch and anxiously wait. Eventually, the weight of the pain pill pulls me under, and I fall asleep.

My body jerks with a start the next morning when Sydney plops herself across my chest, asking where her mommy is.

The pain and confusion of being jolted awake dissipates and panic sets in when I see the empty space where Erin's shoes belong.