Leaving pt. 3

Back in Oakridge, his better half was far less hopeful about the new situation concerning her husband; actually, as far as Connie Vauldermare was concerned, there was no new situation. There was just an accident or a serious injury – nothing even remotely good, and absolutely nothing voluntary. This frame of mind perfectly described the scene to which Lieutenant Deputy Harold Forester and his colleague arrived as the grief-stricken housewife opened the door to her humble-yet-stylish home which sat quietly as usual on its one-acre lot located at the corner of Willis and Jefferson. The lieutenant began by going through his normal introduction – his name, his partner's name, and the fact that they were responding to a possible missing person as reported by dispatch – as the lady of the house remained unmoved, her glare fixed intently downward at the officers' shoes. It wasn't until Forester interjected a very polite may we come in that the lady actually looked at them, revealing for the first time a face that was flushed with panic and tear-stained with grief.

"Of course," she said around a sniffle. She wiped her tears clumsily away with her forearm before continuing. "Please. I'm sorry, please come in."

The officers walked silently in as Connie shut the door behind them. There was a brief silence before she offered them a seat, which she eventually did in the most inviting way possible given the situation. The officers both took seats on the family's couch, immediately after which the Lieutenant began.

Now ma'am, what we're dealing with here is a missing person, he said matter-of-factly; he'd gone through so many of these that he could have just as easily been reading from a script. Can you tell us why your – your husband, is it? Why would your husband want to leave you, Mrs. Vauldermare?

As soon as the words "leave you" came out of the deputy's mouth, Connie felt the tears start to fill her eyes; before long, she began sobbing, harder this time. She knew her husband wasn't there, but never once had she stopped to think that he'd actually left her. The officers waited patiently as she sobbed heavily in her seat; finally, when she'd composed herself enough to take several deep breaths, she apologized and prompted the officer to continue.

Well ma'am, Forester said simply, we can't know what we're dealing with here unless you tell us what exactly we're dealing with here. He paused, thinking to himself how funny that line had always been to him; after a few seconds, he picked up where he'd left off. Have you two been fighting?

Connie stopped, thinking intensely and wanting to be as certain as possible before she answered. "Um…no," she said simply. "We've actually been fighting less than we usually do."

So you're used to fighting on a regular basis? the officer asked quickly. After a stunned look from Mrs. Vauldermare, the officer offered an explanation. I have to completely understand the situation, ma'am.

"We've had our fights, sure," she began. She paused. "You know, but what couple hasn't, right?" She considered her marriage quietly to herself before forcing a half-crooked smile, which she held steady until she saw that neither of the officers seemed to find the bit funny. Then, nervously, she turned away the smile.

"Do you think this is a domestic thing?" she asked.

The deputy reached into his pocket and pulled out the stereotypical police scratch pad and pen; he opened the front cover and scrawled some things silently before he offered a perspective.

Most of the time, Mrs. Vauldermare – Connie, isn't it? You see, most of the times when people are missing, they're missing because they don't want to be found. He stopped as if to let the profundity of his thoughts sink in. Does that sound like Charles to you?

She looked down immediately, covering her nostrils with the middle of her index finger and preparing for the sobs to return. They came as expected, and Connie simply shook her head to indicate no – no, that didn't sound like Charles, and she couldn't imagine why he'd do something like this. She heard the tip of the officer's pen scratching feverishly against the paper as he made note of something or other. As he finished writing, he stood and was followed almost immediately by the second officer who had yet to say anything; the deputy recited his typical we'll do our best motto, intending it to encourage the lady who was standing helplessly beside the family's love seat. The two officers then walked to the front door, the lieutenant insisting that they could let themselves out, and disappeared into the night. Before they'd gone, however, the lieutenant had told Connie that their department had an eighty percent recovery record in missing persons cases and assured her that hers would be no different; she took that reassurance to bed with her, as bland and insignificant as it really was, and closed her eyes while still anxiously considering where her Charles had gone and what he could be doing. That night, she also did something she hadn't done in quite some time; that night, she prayed.

Please God, she said as her eyes fluttered clumsily on the verge of sleep. Bring him back to me. Bring him back and let him be okay. Please, God. Please. She fell asleep that night praying random variations of the same few lines, hoping for the best but half-certain that the situation was already in disrepair.

By the time Connie Vauldermare had grieved herself to sleep, the clock nearest her bed read half past nine; at the exact same time down in San Ramo, Charles Vauldermare had just gotten off the phone with the motel's office where he'd inquired about upgrading his television service. The guy to whom he'd spoken had laughed a violent, hacking laugh and had barked something indecipherable into the receiver; Charles was pretty sure it amounted to something along the lines of Sorry, rich guy: grin and make do, which is precisely what he opted to do. When he'd returned the phone's receiver back onto its base, he reached out and grabbed the remote control from the floor—sticking out from beneath the room's unoccupied bed, where the previous occupant had obviously left it. He mumbled something cynical under his breath as he clicked the power button which, much to his amazement actually brought the unit to life.

He spent about four minutes flipping through his forty-some-odd channels, most of which were filled with news reports, weather forecasts and the occasional black-and-white rerun. Finally, he stopped on channel 32, which for this area was ESPN; he turned up the volume as he readjusted himself to face the television, looking forward to enjoying his first episode of Sports Center since his bachelor days. As the telecasters rambled on about the various baseball games of the weekend, Charles pulled the hotel's dingy duvet cover up to his chin and closed his eyes momentarily, hoping to absorb everything that had happened thus far. His weary, sleep-deprived mind took over from there, delivering his thoughts somewhere far away from the worries of his current situation—away from the images of his past and from the moldy, unclean smell of his hotel room; that night, his mind delivered him into a place he hadn't visited in quite sometime. It was there that he dreamed his first actual dream since taking his new position at Lockheed, and that night, for the first time in seven years, Charles Vauldermare felt free in the healthiest, most well-deserved sense of the word.

Reviews

[L. L. Jacobson]

Dear Chas,

I hope that you don't mind me reviewing this series altogether in this same space, but I read them all one after another, printed out on paper, so I have a more surreal feeling from having read it altogether like that, because I can recollect the great imagery more clearly now than I would have had I read the three parts at different intervals.
You begin this story with the main character already in action, and what is thought of as a quick trip to the store ends in a five hour drive to San Remo, a place far from his familiar Oakridge, where he can lose himself in thoughts and go so far as to maybe leave his life behind, his wife and his home and his fine salary. Those actions like the way you begin this narrative of being inside Charles's head a bit, his ego and subconscious, conscience and environment, will all have a consequence if even perceived as a notion. even God and the gods and the universe know our thoughts. I like the way you take us into 'his' thoughts. From the moment he is backing out of the driveway onto that freshly paved street, inhaling the scent of the Washington's freshly-cut grass, to the daydreaming he is so lost on that he can no longer hear the outside world because his thoughts are so gallant; racing; calling him.
And that is exactly what he does and will do, I suppose. You have done a great job in humanizing the antagonist and protagonist of this story, Charles, (brilliant, by the way) and he becomes real by being flawed and right all at once. He leaves...but maybe he's supposed to, for whatever reasons for however long, even if it's only for a moment.
It makes me want to hop in my car and drive far, far, away and never come back.
But I can't.
And I don't think Charles can either.
Ah, these contradictions, paradoxes and beautiful entrapment are what makes life so grand.
It is the chains of man that man has been a victim of for centuries, since the beginning of time.
The self. No other.
GREAT PERSPECTIVE in a fine story. You are a good storyteller, and you have left me with the curiousity of where these roads have taken him; if ever he's coming back...

[Creepy Swine Guy]

I probably like this so much because I know of the shrill wife who has not even the slightest clue that her incessant demands and expectations are sucking the life from her mate. All he wants is a place where he can live, sleep, watch TV in peace, have a moment not filled with plans to visit in-laws and socialize with friends of hers. He's overwhelmed and instead of some horrible solution, he just goes.

I was damn near SCREAMING "Don't go back!" as I read part two.

I LOVE it

[Caroline Tigeress]

It's definatly a good piece, but for some reason it seems like you're trying to cram a *lot* of information in huge paragraphs. I'd consider trying to break these up a touch.

[Stevie Jean Reed]

i like how you seem to be comfortable with the familar...action and scene..from the hotel room to the Mrs. looking upon her useless things.....It was a nice flow and continuity which is super hard to accomplish..

...i would love to know more because im visual person...colors , sensory stuff and how it might relate to the characters (in other words, not excessive exposition but means of knowing more about the pathos of the characters, what aspects brought them to their current situation) ...Id like to know more about what caused this man to finally break free from a self depreciating relationship aside from the obvious hen pecking...

..i guess what im saying is, Im Intrigued enough by your talents to want more facets of it exposed. But having said all that, i didnt read the other installments lol so i dont know if all that HAS been covered.

Nonehteless, i carfully concidered it and enjoyed these characters as i read.......
....you made me care about them! Bravo :) Hope anything i had to say contributed to your goal.

Very Cool!

[Arthur Bellfield]

I love the hell out of this..you outdid yourself with this one....!

[Pierce Franklin]

Once again, gripping and immensely readable. Your writing is incredibly smooth, with a great attention detail but never saying more than is needed. I await Part 4...

[Jazlean]

grr! my [bold type] didnt work! sorry, well you get the idea...

[Jazlean]

[b]firstly let me say:[/b] yay! thanks for sending me the next part!

[b]now a little more seriously:[/b] every moment, every feeling, action, thought... you have captured it all too well...
its great work and the story just keeps getting better, i like how you have put more of the wife and she feels in..another great piece!

[b]my final words:[/b]i cant wait for the next installment..my mind hungry more hanging in suspence--WHAT WILL HAPPEN!?
great work, do tell me when the next part is up!
thanks and well done,
~Jazlean

[Erik Bergstrom]

16 views and only one critique? What is this world coming to? Haha. This is a great piece of writing, simply for writing's sake. You've got the interior monologue and the indirect discourse that helps a piece flow so much more fluently, much more so than dialogue, which can drag out (which I've learned from editing my stuff). You've taken a simple act and drawn it out, maybe just a little too long. As far as commentary on leaving a spouse, this is a good work, but as a story, something needs to happen soon. I felt the tension rising in the last piece, and here it seems to remain on that plateau, never rising. It's great that you introduced the wife, bringing a new dimension to the work. I'd say if you decide to rework this, introduce her in the second part, and then get on with the action. Will he go on the lamb? Will the cops trace him from hotel to hotel? Missing person stories are interesting, with many avenues to discover and develop. I wish you the best of luck with this, and, this probably being my last review, I wish you the best of luck over break. Hope to see a new slew of Stover originals when I get back!

[Avoiry]

I feel like im reading a law and order script but i love things like this suspense