The Betrothed
Part 27
Cynthia Knight watched silently as her husband stacked his bags next to the front door, no tears left in her after six months of weeping. John put down the last piece of luggage and stood staring down at it, still looking a bit conflicted. Cynthia didn’t know if she cared if he was leaving or not; all she could think of was the eternal quiet of the empty house once he was gone.
“So you’re leaving me too,” she said flatly, feeling hollow. So maybe I do care, just a little.
“You left me long ago,” John replied. He didn’t sound bitter or angry, just resigned. They had both known for a long time that this moment was inevitable. The only thing they could not have predicted was the exact circumstances of his departure. “Maybe with me gone, you can go back to your own people. Erase the taint of my existence from your record.”
“And what about your son?” Cynthia asked, finally able to summon some anger at her abandonment. She wondered why she cared; surely, six months ago, she would have, if not welcomed, at least been indifferent to his departure. Now, with everything else she loved torn from her grasp, she wanted to hold on to whatever she could. “Should I erase him from my record as well?” Unfair, she knew, but she felt justified in fighting dirty. John turned to face her, and she could tell that she had managed to get through one final time.
“Are you sure you aren’t the ones who want to erase him?” John said, snatching up his first bag. “What have you people done to find him? Have you gone to the police? A private investigator? What have you done besides sitting around twiddling your thumbs?”
“What would you have us do?” Cynthia said, summoning the energy to rise from her seat and raise her own voice. “What should we tell the police? That my twenty-one-year-old son has eloped and not told us where he was going? They’d laugh in our faces. You know that we’ve done everything we could. Every trail has turned up cold. They’ve fallen off the face of the Earth.” Her voice choked. Gone. Darrick’s gone. And with him had gone her connection to her own people. With few exceptions, everyone’s blame for Darrick and Abby’s departure had fallen squarely on her shoulders; she was more exiled from her people now than she ever had been during her marriage. And she didn’t think that John’s departure would change that. “How could you think I haven’t done everything I could for my only child?”
“You’ve done nothing,” John said angrily. “Nothing that could possibly reveal yourself to the world.” He picked up the remote to the television and turned it to the news. As it had been for the last few hours, the news anchor was reporting on the worsening situation in Korea – an American submarine sunk, increasing skirmishes along the border, louder bluster from both sides. “Look at this!” John said, pointing towards the television screen. “You know what this means. It’s already started. North Korea’s got nukes, you know. This is the beginning of the end of the world. And you know what – I care less about that than about what it tells me about my son. What does it tell me, Cynthia?” He nearly shouted the last question. Cynthia didn’t want to look, but she was as aware of it as her husband.
“It means they’re already going mad,” she said, her throat closing until she could only manage a whisper. “They don’t have much time left.”
“Exactly,” John said. He didn’t sound triumphant, or even angry any more. Just tired. “Our son is going insane, and he won’t survive long after that. We should be screaming from the rooftops, doing everything we can to get their attention, or the world’s. But you people are so afraid of being discovered that you won’t do anything except in secret, even when it could mean the end of everything. Including our son. Well, I’m not going to put up with it any longer. I’m going to do whatever I can do to find him, and if it gets all of you arrested or studied or just mobbed with paparazzi, I don’t give a damn. There are bigger issues at stake.”
What can you do? Cynthia thought. There are no bank records to trace after that initial withdrawal. No cell phone or email records to consult. No trace anywhere of a couple with their names. They’ve done well. I would be proud if it weren’t so disastrous. All you can do is stand on the street corner and scream about the end of the world. I guess that’s as good as anything.
“And if you find them, what then?” was all that she said.
“I’ll let you know,” he said. “I’m not so stupid to think I can fix them by myself.”
“So you are coming back?” Cynthia asked, feeling foolish to be feeling as much hope as she was. John shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “If I find them, maybe. I know it will hurt Darrick to see his parents separated. If we don’t find them . . . then I guess it won’t really matter.” He picked up a second bag. “I think I may still love you. I know you don’t love me. I suppose I’ll have to decide if that’s enough.” He walked out the door, leaving Cynthia alone in a very empty, quiet house.
Part 27
Cynthia Knight watched silently as her husband stacked his bags next to the front door, no tears left in her after six months of weeping. John put down the last piece of luggage and stood staring down at it, still looking a bit conflicted. Cynthia didn’t know if she cared if he was leaving or not; all she could think of was the eternal quiet of the empty house once he was gone.
“So you’re leaving me too,” she said flatly, feeling hollow. So maybe I do care, just a little.
“You left me long ago,” John replied. He didn’t sound bitter or angry, just resigned. They had both known for a long time that this moment was inevitable. The only thing they could not have predicted was the exact circumstances of his departure. “Maybe with me gone, you can go back to your own people. Erase the taint of my existence from your record.”
“And what about your son?” Cynthia asked, finally able to summon some anger at her abandonment. She wondered why she cared; surely, six months ago, she would have, if not welcomed, at least been indifferent to his departure. Now, with everything else she loved torn from her grasp, she wanted to hold on to whatever she could. “Should I erase him from my record as well?” Unfair, she knew, but she felt justified in fighting dirty. John turned to face her, and she could tell that she had managed to get through one final time.
“Are you sure you aren’t the ones who want to erase him?” John said, snatching up his first bag. “What have you people done to find him? Have you gone to the police? A private investigator? What have you done besides sitting around twiddling your thumbs?”
“What would you have us do?” Cynthia said, summoning the energy to rise from her seat and raise her own voice. “What should we tell the police? That my twenty-one-year-old son has eloped and not told us where he was going? They’d laugh in our faces. You know that we’ve done everything we could. Every trail has turned up cold. They’ve fallen off the face of the Earth.” Her voice choked. Gone. Darrick’s gone. And with him had gone her connection to her own people. With few exceptions, everyone’s blame for Darrick and Abby’s departure had fallen squarely on her shoulders; she was more exiled from her people now than she ever had been during her marriage. And she didn’t think that John’s departure would change that. “How could you think I haven’t done everything I could for my only child?”
“You’ve done nothing,” John said angrily. “Nothing that could possibly reveal yourself to the world.” He picked up the remote to the television and turned it to the news. As it had been for the last few hours, the news anchor was reporting on the worsening situation in Korea – an American submarine sunk, increasing skirmishes along the border, louder bluster from both sides. “Look at this!” John said, pointing towards the television screen. “You know what this means. It’s already started. North Korea’s got nukes, you know. This is the beginning of the end of the world. And you know what – I care less about that than about what it tells me about my son. What does it tell me, Cynthia?” He nearly shouted the last question. Cynthia didn’t want to look, but she was as aware of it as her husband.
“It means they’re already going mad,” she said, her throat closing until she could only manage a whisper. “They don’t have much time left.”
“Exactly,” John said. He didn’t sound triumphant, or even angry any more. Just tired. “Our son is going insane, and he won’t survive long after that. We should be screaming from the rooftops, doing everything we can to get their attention, or the world’s. But you people are so afraid of being discovered that you won’t do anything except in secret, even when it could mean the end of everything. Including our son. Well, I’m not going to put up with it any longer. I’m going to do whatever I can do to find him, and if it gets all of you arrested or studied or just mobbed with paparazzi, I don’t give a damn. There are bigger issues at stake.”
What can you do? Cynthia thought. There are no bank records to trace after that initial withdrawal. No cell phone or email records to consult. No trace anywhere of a couple with their names. They’ve done well. I would be proud if it weren’t so disastrous. All you can do is stand on the street corner and scream about the end of the world. I guess that’s as good as anything.
“And if you find them, what then?” was all that she said.
“I’ll let you know,” he said. “I’m not so stupid to think I can fix them by myself.”
“So you are coming back?” Cynthia asked, feeling foolish to be feeling as much hope as she was. John shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “If I find them, maybe. I know it will hurt Darrick to see his parents separated. If we don’t find them . . . then I guess it won’t really matter.” He picked up a second bag. “I think I may still love you. I know you don’t love me. I suppose I’ll have to decide if that’s enough.” He walked out the door, leaving Cynthia alone in a very empty, quiet house.
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