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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 12/29/2015
44 minutes
Born 1981, F, from Glasgow, United Kingdom44 minutes – A short story
It’s been thirty-two minutes since I realised my son is missing, and I feel like I am going to die.
Literally, I feel like my heart may just stop beating.
He was just outside, in our street, with all the kids he usually plays with. It’s seventeen minutes past one on a Sunday afternoon, for God’s sakes, and they were all there, all of them! How could he not be safe?
Everyone is out there looking for him: Jack, our other kids, the neighbours’ kids…
But I can’t move. I’ve tried to, but I can’t. I’m frozen with fear, and if they don’t find him soon I think the chill will reach my heart and shut it down.
My boy. My beautiful, precious boy. Where are you?
I know I shouldn’t say this, or even think it, but the day he came into the world was the single happiest day of my entire life. Of course I love my daughters, with all my heart, and the joy I felt when they were born was absolutely unbridled. But after three girls and an entire lifetime of dreaming of having a son, the euphoria that swept over me when the midwife announced ‘It’s a boy!’ is a feeling that could never be paralleled.
And now, the worst day of my life. And there have been some bad days.
Jack comes back in and I don’t want to look at him, because I know without having to that he hasn’t found him yet. I give out a whimper that barely sounds human, and Jack comes to comfort me, holding me tighter than he’s ever done before.
‘We’ll find him’, he whispers, trying to hide the lack of confidence in his voice by muting his words amongst my hair.
Thirty-nine minutes have now passed.
My youngest daughter, Cara, returns from searching and without a word she climbs up on my lap and cries her confused tears into my chest.
‘It’s OK, darling,’ I murmur, the motherly instinct returning to me like the unconscious reflex that it is.
‘But he’s my little brother!’
I feel myself stop breathing, and in that moment I don’t know if I want to re-start.
I know for a fact that if he is not found, I will not be able to go on living. That may seem over-dramatic, but how could I even consider existing if something has happened to my boy?
‘Take her’, I say to Jack, handing Cara to him as I stand up. I’ve risen too soon, and the blood rush to my head makes me feel like I’m going to faint. Or maybe that’s just how I’m going to feel, for the rest of my life.
‘Leanne, where are you going?’ Jack asks, following me out the door with a sobbing Cara in his arms.
‘Anywhere!’ I scream. ‘I need to find him!’
I run outside, totally unprepared for the icy conditions, dressed in my short-sleeved top, jeans and slippers. I slip a little, and almost fall on the ice. I don’t care. I don’t care if I get hypothermia. I need to find my boy.
It must be over forty minutes now, since Cara told me she didn’t know where he was, and in my head it seems like forty days, and forty nights, of torture.
I look left along the street, praying that by some miracle, he will appear from a neighbour’s garden.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy? I was only playing Sonic the Hedgehog in Kevin’s house!’
I look right, and survey every driveway, every hedge, every garden. Maybe he’s playing hide and seek? He’s only four and half; of course he would find that funny!
I allow myself to soak up some much-needed hope, and it lasts for about a second.
I’m standing at the foot of my driveway, chittering. Frozen still.
I hear Jack’s pained pleas. ‘Leanne. Come on love, you can’t be out here.’
I start to turn around, to go to him, to let him take over the situation. Mid-turn, I momentarily think the cold has gone to my head, and I’m hallucinating. But no, it’s not my mind playing tricks on me. Right there, walking through the railway tunnel that runs behind our house, it’s Marcus!
He’s with other boys, older boys that I’ve never seen before. And they’re carrying a football, and he’s laughing, and they’re laughing too…
‘Marcus!’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard my voice reach this volume in my life.
I make to run towards him, and this time I do slip, and fall, and I hit the ice in the lane with an almighty thud. It hurts, and maybe I’ve broken something, but I don’t care. I’m back on my feet in an instant, and he’s seen me, and starts running towards me, his little football boots making adorable clicking sounds on the ice.
‘Mummy, are you OK?’ he asks. He’s seen me fall, and he’s obviously wondering what insanity has come over me, to bring me running out onto the ice with only my slippers for protection.
‘Oh my God, Marcus!’ I grab him in my arms and hold onto him like my life depends on it. Only a few moments ago, I realise, it literally did.
Jack and Cara are here now, and Jack is crying. Huge, hearty sobs, the likes of which I’ve only ever seen once before, when his mum passed away. Cara is smiling. Her little brother is back, safe.
‘Oh Marcus, Marcus’, Jack says, smiling through his tears, kissing my gorgeous boy’s head and drawing the four of us together. ‘Thank God, son. Thank God.’
We’ll need to go and call off the search. My daughters, God, where are they? They must be freezing!
Jack will go and find them. ‘Come on, love’, he says. ‘Let’s get you back inside.’ He tugs at my arm, but I can’t move. I won’t. I need to stand here, and hold my boy. Just hold him.
‘Leanne’. Jack’s voice is sterner now. He knows we can’t all stay out in this cold any longer. I scoop up Marcus and carry him towards the house, breathing in every molecule from his tiny, muddy body.
Marcus is bemused, and doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation. He probably thinks he might get into trouble for going off to play football with the older boys without telling us, but right now I can’t imagine ever giving this boy into trouble. I can’t imagine ever letting him out of my sight again. I can’t imagine what I would have done if these forty-four minutes had ended differently.
44 minutes(Stephanie McDonald)
44 minutes – A short story
It’s been thirty-two minutes since I realised my son is missing, and I feel like I am going to die.
Literally, I feel like my heart may just stop beating.
He was just outside, in our street, with all the kids he usually plays with. It’s seventeen minutes past one on a Sunday afternoon, for God’s sakes, and they were all there, all of them! How could he not be safe?
Everyone is out there looking for him: Jack, our other kids, the neighbours’ kids…
But I can’t move. I’ve tried to, but I can’t. I’m frozen with fear, and if they don’t find him soon I think the chill will reach my heart and shut it down.
My boy. My beautiful, precious boy. Where are you?
I know I shouldn’t say this, or even think it, but the day he came into the world was the single happiest day of my entire life. Of course I love my daughters, with all my heart, and the joy I felt when they were born was absolutely unbridled. But after three girls and an entire lifetime of dreaming of having a son, the euphoria that swept over me when the midwife announced ‘It’s a boy!’ is a feeling that could never be paralleled.
And now, the worst day of my life. And there have been some bad days.
Jack comes back in and I don’t want to look at him, because I know without having to that he hasn’t found him yet. I give out a whimper that barely sounds human, and Jack comes to comfort me, holding me tighter than he’s ever done before.
‘We’ll find him’, he whispers, trying to hide the lack of confidence in his voice by muting his words amongst my hair.
Thirty-nine minutes have now passed.
My youngest daughter, Cara, returns from searching and without a word she climbs up on my lap and cries her confused tears into my chest.
‘It’s OK, darling,’ I murmur, the motherly instinct returning to me like the unconscious reflex that it is.
‘But he’s my little brother!’
I feel myself stop breathing, and in that moment I don’t know if I want to re-start.
I know for a fact that if he is not found, I will not be able to go on living. That may seem over-dramatic, but how could I even consider existing if something has happened to my boy?
‘Take her’, I say to Jack, handing Cara to him as I stand up. I’ve risen too soon, and the blood rush to my head makes me feel like I’m going to faint. Or maybe that’s just how I’m going to feel, for the rest of my life.
‘Leanne, where are you going?’ Jack asks, following me out the door with a sobbing Cara in his arms.
‘Anywhere!’ I scream. ‘I need to find him!’
I run outside, totally unprepared for the icy conditions, dressed in my short-sleeved top, jeans and slippers. I slip a little, and almost fall on the ice. I don’t care. I don’t care if I get hypothermia. I need to find my boy.
It must be over forty minutes now, since Cara told me she didn’t know where he was, and in my head it seems like forty days, and forty nights, of torture.
I look left along the street, praying that by some miracle, he will appear from a neighbour’s garden.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy? I was only playing Sonic the Hedgehog in Kevin’s house!’
I look right, and survey every driveway, every hedge, every garden. Maybe he’s playing hide and seek? He’s only four and half; of course he would find that funny!
I allow myself to soak up some much-needed hope, and it lasts for about a second.
I’m standing at the foot of my driveway, chittering. Frozen still.
I hear Jack’s pained pleas. ‘Leanne. Come on love, you can’t be out here.’
I start to turn around, to go to him, to let him take over the situation. Mid-turn, I momentarily think the cold has gone to my head, and I’m hallucinating. But no, it’s not my mind playing tricks on me. Right there, walking through the railway tunnel that runs behind our house, it’s Marcus!
He’s with other boys, older boys that I’ve never seen before. And they’re carrying a football, and he’s laughing, and they’re laughing too…
‘Marcus!’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard my voice reach this volume in my life.
I make to run towards him, and this time I do slip, and fall, and I hit the ice in the lane with an almighty thud. It hurts, and maybe I’ve broken something, but I don’t care. I’m back on my feet in an instant, and he’s seen me, and starts running towards me, his little football boots making adorable clicking sounds on the ice.
‘Mummy, are you OK?’ he asks. He’s seen me fall, and he’s obviously wondering what insanity has come over me, to bring me running out onto the ice with only my slippers for protection.
‘Oh my God, Marcus!’ I grab him in my arms and hold onto him like my life depends on it. Only a few moments ago, I realise, it literally did.
Jack and Cara are here now, and Jack is crying. Huge, hearty sobs, the likes of which I’ve only ever seen once before, when his mum passed away. Cara is smiling. Her little brother is back, safe.
‘Oh Marcus, Marcus’, Jack says, smiling through his tears, kissing my gorgeous boy’s head and drawing the four of us together. ‘Thank God, son. Thank God.’
We’ll need to go and call off the search. My daughters, God, where are they? They must be freezing!
Jack will go and find them. ‘Come on, love’, he says. ‘Let’s get you back inside.’ He tugs at my arm, but I can’t move. I won’t. I need to stand here, and hold my boy. Just hold him.
‘Leanne’. Jack’s voice is sterner now. He knows we can’t all stay out in this cold any longer. I scoop up Marcus and carry him towards the house, breathing in every molecule from his tiny, muddy body.
Marcus is bemused, and doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation. He probably thinks he might get into trouble for going off to play football with the older boys without telling us, but right now I can’t imagine ever giving this boy into trouble. I can’t imagine ever letting him out of my sight again. I can’t imagine what I would have done if these forty-four minutes had ended differently.
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