The Heart Is Unremarkable

CHARLES KING — 1988

When Momma became a headline I stared at the TV without blinking, waiting for pictures of her. Listening for her name. Promised God all my toys if someone brought her home. But weeks turned to months and the sky changed to winter and no one knew where she was. Maybe God wanted more than eight-year-old me had to give.

Before she disappeared Momma and I read every day. We sounded out books, signs, newspaper ads, food packages. Daddy didn’t help with reading or homework much after she was gone, but it wasn’t his fault. He fell asleep in his chair most nights. I built pyramids out of the beer cans on the floor. Bigger and bigger pyramids.

When he wasn’t looking I ripped articles and pictures of Momma out of the paper and stuffed them in my pillowcase. Hid them so he wouldn’t get upset.

Sadieville Woman Maggie King Reported Missing

Three Days of Rain Dampen Searcher’s Spirits: No King Leads

Everyone had a lot to say about us the first days and weeks Momma was gone. We were all over the TV and the phone rang a lot. Our doormat didn’t say Welcome, but no one seemed to care. People showing up at the door at all hours. Sometimes food seemed to appear out of thin air on our porch, like magic. Notes taped to plastic lids and words written on the tinfoil covering the food all said the same thing. How sorry someone was for us. When the searches stopped, Daddy stopped answering the door. I wanted to give the containers back to people like Momma always had. But I didn’t know who belonged to what because Daddy threw the notes away.

Days when the TV news used the picture of momma and I at the zoo were the best. Like today. I was sitting on the floor by Daddy’s chair watching Georgetown at 5 with him. And then, there she was. Momma’s name and our picture filled the screen. Momma’s pretty smiling face. Me, leaning into her legs. I looked up at the shelf at the picture’s empty frame. Either the TV station or the police still had all the pictures Daddy gave them to help with the search. 

“Any recent photos with the three of you together?” a police officer had asked.

Daddy had shut the door and walked away. It was his answer to a lot of questions.

Today’s picture of Momma and I disappeared fast, replaced by traffic reports. Fast meant there wasn’t anything new to say.

Call For Volunteers to Search Eagle Creek Trail Area

King Family Asks for Privacy During Difficult Time

Search Turns to Recovery Effort in Local Disappearance

I stared at the blank frame remembering our trip to Lexington’s Wildlife Center. It had been a big day. Momma and I dropped Daddy off at the Georgetown Toyota plant for a job interview.

“You know how to get to the zoo?” He’d asked as he got out of the car.

“I do, we’ve been there before. Right, buddy?”

Momma winked at me in the rearview.

“Right! Bears!”

“Charles, shhhh. Inside voice,” Momma laughed. “Your father’s got a big day ahead of him and he’s nervous.”

“Why would you say that?” Daddy growled.

I wondered if his voice made Momma feel small, too. I hoped not.

“I didn’t mean any…”

“You never mean anything.” He thumped the side of the door. “You always think you know how I feel, Maggie.”

His cigarette smoke stung my eyes. Made it harder not to cry.

“You don’t. You don’t have a goddamn clue.”

“I’m sorry, Jeff. Good lu…” Momma’s voice bright, like her eyes used to be. “Never mind. Love you. We’ll pick you up at 3.”

Daddy joined a line of men waiting in the sun. He didn’t turn to wave goodbye.

“Good luck,” I heard Momma whisper. “For all our sakes.”

A few minutes down the road Momma’s eyes found mine in the mirror. Her smile back.

“Ready, Charles?”

“Ready!”

“On three! One….. Two…. Three!”

Shoving our heads out the open windows we roared at the sky until I was breathless.

It was the best day. With ice cream. And her.

When we picked up Daddy he was smiling. Bear hugging Momma, he twirled her around as she got out so he could drive.

“I got the job,” he yelled. “I got the damn job! Things are turning around, love. You watch.”  

Husband A Suspect in King Disappearance

Investigation Continues, Police Ask Community for Support

Jeff King Cleared as Suspect: Alibi Confirmed

I spelled out words from the articles that I didn’t understand in my secret notebook. I asked Daddy to explain some, but his answers were confusing. Momma had been better at it. He told me ‘dampened spirits’ weren’t wet ghosts. That ‘suspects’ were people who, like him, were innocent. That an ‘alibi’ was a true story. A fact.

Around the time I asked about ‘suspect’ the magic food stopped showing up. I wondered if people were mad we hadn’t given their Tupperware back. There were a lot more phone calls and we were on the news a lot then, too. I watched for the zoo picture, but they used ones of Momma and Daddy instead. Usually separate pictures of them.

Anonymous Tip in King Disappearance Hints at Foul Play

When Momma had been gone for months Daddy turned the sound off when news about us came on. He took the phone off the hook, too. I hung it back up, once. He threw it on the floor, pointed at it.

“Charlie, don’t talk to any of these people.” He pointed at the phone like I knew who he meant. “They tell lies. Try to get us to tell lies. Think we did something to her.”

I knew that that was what the articles said now, but I didn’t understand it.

“Momma calls me Charles, Daddy.”

“What?” His voice, that tone, the one that made you want to disappear.

I was drowning without her. Missed her so much sometimes it hurt to breathe.

“My name isn’t Charlie, it’s Charles.” My tears boiled over. “Everyone but you calls me Charles. Now the TV and all the newspapers call me Charlie. It’s CHARLES!”

I kicked the receiver.

He was stone still, his neck and face a deep red. The silence worse than feeling small.

“You can call me Charlie, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

If Momma was here she’d be mad at me for kicking the phone. Momma’s mad was different than Daddy’s. Momma’s mad still felt like she loved you. Daddy’s mad happened so fast. Felt like an end.

“I always thought it was too grown up a name for a boy.” His shoulders looked heavy. The receiver beeped away on the dirty kitchen tiles. “Don’t hang that back up.”

“What if Momma tries to call?”

“I’ll ask Aunt Peggy about her answering machine.”

“Her what?”

“Answering machine. You connect it to the phone and it records anyone who calls.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “So if your Mom calls and we aren’t here she can leave a message.”

“When.”

He watched me, confused.

“When she calls.”

“When she calls.” He scratched at his chin. I was still getting used to his beard. “Maybe Pat and Peggy can help us pay for one.”

“We can use Momma’s puzzle money!”

“What money?”

“In my puzzle box,” I whispered.

“Go get it.”

I ran from the room, hoping being fast would make everything better. The G.I. Joe Puzzle box rattled as I gave it to Daddy. A few crumpled dollar bills and a handful of change mixed in with the pieces.

“We were saving to buy the other battles.” I pointed to the bottom of the box. “This is battle one of four. See?”

“Thanks, Charles,” Daddy laughed. “Use this for your next puzzle. But until we get an answering machine that phone stays off the hook.”

I nodded.

“Checking the answering machine will be your responsibility.” He leaned against the wall like everything was too heavy. “But I don’t think your Momma’s going to call.”

My heart pounded in my ears. “Why not?”

“She hasn’t called yet, has she?”

“She will.”

He opened his eyes, stood straighter. Ruffled my hair as he walked out of the room.

But I wasn’t so sure. There’d been a lot more money in the box before. Lots of twenties and the first fifty I’d ever seen.

*****