Monday, February 23, 2009

"Once you lose someone it is never exactly/
the same person who comes back."
- Sharon Olds

Wednesday

Riley and I sat across from each other on worn leather couches in the upstairs lounge section of our neighborhood Borders Bookstore. We were discussing our lives in the months since the end of the club season, and characteristic of our conversations lately, it was an open and frank discussion. We each took turns opening small doors of ourselves for the other to appraise objectively and comment on. In a lull our conversation turned toward friends and our worries about them. As if on cue, my phone rang and the screen lit up with Muffin's name. I took the call. It was 9:30 in the evening.

"Yo Muff, what's up?" The usual intro. He'd planned his evening apart from us that night, both Riley and I were actually surprised to be hearing from him.

"Hector, my sister's missing."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean, missing?"

"Like, missing missing." He began to race through a series of details. His younger sister Jessica, a freshman at UW–Milwaukee, had not come home the night before, and no one had seen or heard from her since 1:00pm Tuesday, as she said goodbye to her roommate and left her suite on the way to class. Wednesday at 5:00pm, after receiving a call to the suite from her bank reporting suspicious activity in her account, her roommate called the police and sounded the alarm. A friend who she was supposed to meet on Tuesday night reported that she never showed up or contacted her. No one knew where Jessica was, and no one had a clue.

Muffin's mom had received the call shortly after the missing person report was filed, and for the next 3 hours tried desperately to reach Muffin and tell him the news. Muffin's surgically repaired foot is weeks from supporting any weight, however, and this makes little things like finding your phone and answering it epic tasks that require planning and motivation. When he finally got the news, hours of motherly hysteria had already ticked away. Now here he was, on the phone with me, unable to process the situation or its implications and asking me what to do. I took it as no small coincidence that Riley and I were together when he called, so I told Muffin to meet us at my house in Middleton where we could relax and better grasp what exactly was happening. I hung up, and Riley and I quickly gathered our things and got in my car, driving with a focused speed back to my house.

It had been almost 24 hours since I'd hung up the phone with Feldman on Tuesday night. A B-teamer had not paid his way on the chartered bus the Hodags and Belladonna had rented to drive them down to Mardi Gras, and the 55th and final spot on the bus was now open. The captains offered me a free ride and room in the hotel so that I might help them out during the weekend. Although it came on short notice and would still cost me, once there, more than I cared to spend, the offer had its appeal. Muffin's spot was already reserved, and I liked the idea of being able to revel with him on Bourbon Street one night and help the Hodags positively from the sideline all weekend. It's still very early in the season, and I wanted to be able to observe the players in a full weekend of play so that I could offer them better feedback about their strengths and weaknesses. I accepted the offer, and we made plans to touch base Wednesday to solidify the details.

But the next time we spoke it was to tell me the truant B-Teamer was claiming he paid, and so the spot on the bus they'd offered to me didn't exist. After a night of wrestling with my decision and finally making my peace with going, even allowing myself to get excited for the trip, I was pissed that now I had to redefine mentally what my weekend would be. I let Feldman know my displeasure at how this whole thing was going down.

"Let me work on it. Most likely someone's gonna oversleep and miss the bus Friday, so you should still pack your bags and I promise someone will get left behind." I knew he was likely right. Still, I wasn't in the mood to wake up at 5:00am in the hopes someone might oversleep, and told him so. He again repeated he'd look into what he could do, and hung up. Twenty minutes later Muffin called me at Borders, and now nothing about Mardi Gras mattered.

At my house, I peeled the foil off the cap of a bottle of 12 year old Chivas Regal and poured us each three fingers into distinguished tumblers of frosted glass. Saying we were unnerved would be an understatement; the moorings of our normalcy had been cut, and our minds were cast adrift.

Except for the moment when he called us to drop the news, Muffin had been on the phone with the UW–Milwaukee police, offering advice on leads to follow, people to talk to, questions to ask, and grilling the detectives about every last bit of information they had at that point. However, since the report wasn't filed until 5:00pm, the end of the business day, their ability to do anything substantive was limited. In the morning they would follow Muffin's recommendations, and look at her cell phone records and try to see if they could track down any ATM transactions that might have occurred. They would talk to classmates and look at professors' attendance sheets. Until then, we had only ourselves to deal with, and outsized worries our only company. I reached for a bottle of Spanish Tempranillo and uncorked some calm. Muffin and Riley played a game of chess, and despite dominating early, Riley's queen was captured after a careless move and Muffin picked him to pieces. In chess and life a moment of carelessness can pass without notice if one is lucky, or it can precipitate the endgame without mercy.

Muffin, for moments in those few hours, thought of something other than his missing sister. I could not. The first thing I'd done after he'd broken the news was call my own sister, a sophomore at the same university, and warn her to lock her door and not travel alone until we could find out what happened. I didn't have to stretch my imagination much to empathize fully with what Muffin was going through. Still, it was late. The futon awaited Riley; my bed called to me. Muffin left my house at 1am and drove the 40 minutes to his home so he could be there when his mother woke up, and immediately begin the search again. As I finally found sleep that night, I couldn't help trying to calculate a mathematics that didn't add up: one missing sister, zero contact, and now, with me warm and safe under my blankets, two nights where Jessica's own bed laid empty. 2am found me in a fitful sleep.

Thursday

Riley and I woke up shortly after 6:30, tired but alert. Concern has a way of cutting through fatigue to energize you. Over coffee and breakfast I called Muffin, hoping the sunrise had illuminated Jessica's whereabouts and we could all brush this off as a case of misplaced panic. Resolution would not come so easily. Muffin had taken the morning off to work the phones and get the latest information, but nothing new had yet come to light. I asked him to call me if he found out anything, and Riley hopped into the car with me on the way to his work. It was a still morning with a warming sun inside my 4Runner; outside it, cold winds dropped the temperature and burned your cheeks. I left Riley at his office and went about my own day, with Jessica trailing my every thought closely.

When I finally heard from Muffin it was close to noon. "Hector, when I got to work today the elevators were broken. I had to hop up all eight flights of stairs. The world is trying as hard as it can to break me. I won't let it yet."

He then broke down the latest, a piebald collection of clues that got us no closer to Jessica. Her bank accounts were intact; apart from a deposit cleared on Tuesday her account had been largely dormant. A cell phone had been found in her room, its SIM card missing. Her boyfriend had called her Tuesday at 3:30, and the call had been picked up, but all he could make out were ambient background noises; no one spoke. He hung up and called again; no one picked up. Another attempt a half hour later was sent straight to voicemail. She had missed her classes.

The outside world was also mobilizing. A Facebook group was started to get the word out, quickly snowballing past a hundred members. The university sent an email to all students with Jessica's description and last known whereabouts, and her friends printed out flyers and wallpapered the dorms and streets with them. On the home page of the police's website, a picture of her accompanied the phone number of a tip hotline.

Muffin sounded rightfully stressed at the end of our conversation. Jessica spoke to their mother almost daily, he said, and skipping town without telling anyone would be extremely out of character. Think of Occam's razor, I told him; the answer that made the most sense was that she was with friends somewhere and we'd hear from her soon. I did not, of course, mention the elephant in our conversation, the unmentionable thoughts that had gripped my mind and held it in a vice since I'd first heard about this whole thing; that something had gone horribly, horribly wrong on a cold Tuesday in Milwaukee and Jessica was hurt, kidnapped, or dead somewhere, and it was only a matter of time before we received the call that would confirm all our morbid fears. Instead, I told him to keep his head up, hold out hope, and assume the best.

When I hung up the phone I stayed for a moment parked outside my credit union, and exhaled. For many reasons, these last 3 months have been some of my most atheist. Still, I closed my eyes, bowed my head, and said a prayer. "God, if there is any way this can turn out well, please make it happen." I drove to work distracted.

Dinner came and went that Thursday night without an update. Muffin's sister was as lost as she had been before work. Pre-disappearance, Muff, Anne, and I had made plans to kick back in the evening at the frisbee house. I didn't know how relaxed I was going to get that evening with Jessica still unaccounted for, but Muff looked ready to take his mind off his search — for a little while, at least. We drove to the liquor store, where Anne and I each selected a six-pack of beer, and Muffin purchased a bottle of SoCo. The bottle was for the drive down to Mardi Gras on the bus, Muffin informed me, and as it was 9:00pm, I informed Muffin that the bus left in nine hours and his sister was still unaccounted for. He wouldn't hear it.

I wonder, now, what Muffin was thinking at the time. When we returned to the frisbee house and cracked open the first round of beers, I asked him if he was still seriously considering going.

"What can I possibly accomplish by staying? If I leave and they find her, then it's good. If I stay and they find her, same thing." He talked now as if strengthened by some internal certainty. I left my own questions unasked, though they played loud enough inside my own ears.

What if they find her and she's not fine? What if you're down in Mardi Gras and your mother is left alone to identify your sister in some Milwaukee morgue? I couldn't get these questions out of my head, and strangely they seemed to hold no purchase inside Muffin's. Was he thinking this, too, somewhere deep inside, and was eager to escape what would undoubtedly be his breaking point in his wrestling match with the world? Or, more likely, had he stoned himself against that reality, and had willed into his mind only one outcome, a miraculous return by his sister in the 11th hour to make this whole mess right?

You see, Muffin, more than anyone I know, has the ability to let the primitive id control his action and thought. This drive is what makes him frustratingly stubborn at times, overconfident of his reasoning. It's also the force that propels him to excel and meet every demand that he places on himself, so that any goal he sets is met without fail. In his head he had decided that his sister was safe, that all would end well, and since he believed so, it would soon be true.

These are all things that I came up with afterward, unpacking the stress and strain of these days. In that moment my mouth and eyes conveyed a shocked disbelief. On the couch there, I looked into Muffin and drank my beer.

My concentration broke. In a measure of silence, Jake entered the living room and in his traditional deadpan delivery addressed us, "It says on Facebook that they found Muffin's sister."

What? Stunned, I refused to believe it at first. I wanted it confirmed. Jake went back to the room and came back moments later. "Yeah, it says on the police website they found her."

Muffin, meanwhile, hadn't moved. He hadn't flinched when Jake spoke and he hadn't hesitated as he brought the bottle of beer to his lips and took a casual gulp. He continued on the couch as if nothing had happened except what he already knew would happen, lacking any surprise that his belief had been confirmed. The world would have to wait to break him some other time.

Six hours later, in the darkness before sunrise, Muffin threw his hung-over ass into a bus with 54 other people, and it departed for Baton Rouge. I stayed sleeping, warm and soundly this time. Mardi Gras, ultimate, the humdrum of our daily lives, all of it was relevant again.

Even now, I'm not exactly sure where Jessica was those long hours. I only know she's back, and she's ok. I am left to imagine what happened, and how loved she might feel, right now, knowing that in 36 hours hundreds of people broke from their routine to do everything they could to make sure she was safe.

46 comments:

Anonymous said...

great story.....terrible ending. not that it wasnt good to hear muffins sister was back (and ok?), just that we are all curious as to where she was. reminds me of most movies i go see that are full of holes and end terribly with me wanting both my money and the last two hours of my life back.

Hh said...

Where she was wasn't at all important to me compared to her being ok. As I said, no one told me where she'd been, and I didn't press the issue further, considering it her own personal business. For me, knowing she's back home safely leaves the matter closed.

Sorry that all the things in life don't come prepackaged with neat little endings like the movies. Not that I'm surprised that's what people have come to expect.

Anonymous said...

if ya want to be technical about it, this whole story was "her own personal business", muffins too and obviously yours as well........but mabey not any of ours (and might should have remained that way). And i'm sure that all that read it were glad to hear of her return.

My point was that this story, like movies, DIDN'T end being neatly packaged. Just sayin, you built up an awful lot of suspence only to leave us wondering where she was and what happened to her.......not that it matters (or is any of our business)just that it left quite a gap in the story.......as far as "stories" go in genreal.

I will say that this was possibly the most dramatic and suspencful blog post i think i've ever read.

Hh said...

If I "built up an awful lot of suspence only to leave [you] wondering where she was and what happened to her," then I did exactly what I wanted. That was exactly how I felt. Two days of pins and needles existence, and suddenly, anticlimactically, it was over.

And I would like to bring to your attention two things:
1) Reading this was free for you.
2) You're spending time reading a blog about an ultimate player. If suddenly you wish you had that time back, you probably should have thought your decision to come here in the first place through.

Hh said...

By the way, I appreciate your feedback, and I mean that sincerely, so thank you. I write a bunch of shit and people read it but I never know how they feel or react so it feels like I'm just monologuing.

I just found it funny that you thought at its end reading it was a waste of time, when you read my blog (and most blogs in general) specifically to waste some time.

DikEar said...

Tremendous work Hector, your most affecting piece yet. And if anonymous lets the seemingly lack of conclusion ruin his reading, he was not paying attention. The piece isn’t about what happened to Muffin’s sister, where she was during those days. The piece is about Muffin. About the power of a man’s will. His unwillingness to break in face of tremendous pressure. The stone-headedness and potential selfishness it requires to ignore what seems inevitable. The ultimate triumph of that egoism when optimism prevails. And the unspoken terror and impossibility of dealing with life if that optimism proves misplaced.

I’m guessing anonymous would hate “Sometimes a Great Notion” because we never learn what happens with the logging trip. Or he walked out of “No Country for Old Men” disappointed because we’re (mostly) unsure of what happens to Llewelyns wife.

Unfortunately for anonymous, the logging trip, the death of Llewelyns wife, where Muffin’s sister was, are NOT WHAT THE STORY IS ABOUT. They may be details that you want to know, but obsessing over those details loses the grander picture of what happened.

I commend Hector for not prying and trying to get those details for himself. I know I am wondering. But I’m also appreciating this piece for what it is.

-dikear

Anonymous said...

actually reading this was not free. i have to pay for an internet connection first. but if your goal was to leave readers "wondering" then you were succesful. That dosent mean i dont have the right to critisize you for doing so. Also i never said it was a waste of MY time and i think its foolish for you to assume that just because you read blogs to "waste time" that others do too. To me its a form of entertainment......like movies are. Some have good endings some dont, and every movie goer fully understands how inportant the ending is to the total experience.

As for dickear......i never read the book you spoke of and am yet to see "no country for old men". but i did catch the final episode of the sopranos.......nuf said. And isnt "the story about" whatever the reader makes it about?
who are you to tell someone else how they should interpret a story any more than tell someone else what "they"(or "me" in this case)find to be beautiful. You know the saying....

As for muffin, i'm sure i wasnt the only one perplexed by his stohic reaction of the news "his sister was back". I dont know the dude but having two daughters of my own and another on the way i cant help but think that his emotions were ranging all the way from extreemly extatic to somewhat pissed.

Maybe this whole thing was a bit too personal for this forum, maybe not. But once it goes to print its out there. You touched on two aspects of human nature for me as a reader......one being compassion, the other being curiosity. Like i said, great story but terrible ending in that it never provided closuer to the curious side of my personal human nature.

pesonally i was extatic that it ended with her return but also pissed at the thought of either, how she may have been harmed or violated OR that she would have put her loved ones thru the trama of "wondering" where she was.......of which, had this been conveyed, would have provided the type of closure one(or, at least, I) often wants and needs as a reader. On the other hand, its not like i'm gonna lose any sleep due to my curiosity.......so, hardly "obsessing".

And dont think that just because i'm the only person willing to say what others dont or wont (for whatever reason) that i'm the only one that feels this way.

Anonymous said...

Anon, don't worry about dickear. He's just a colorado nuthugger/cheerleader.

Anonymous said...

She was visiting some friends in Palm Springs. Just picked up and left, never bothered to tell of us.

DikEar said...

Anonymous,

"And isnt "the story about" whatever the reader makes it about?"

That's actually a good point. But there's also a difference between good criticism and bad criticism.

Obsessing over a minor detail, and letting it inform your entire enjoyment/analysis of said story is just doing yourself a disservice.

It's also criticizing the author for achieving the exact effect he intended.

And yes, I would consider the sister's whereabouts a minor detail because, IN MY INTERPRETATION, it's about Muffin, not his sister.

But as you implied, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder". It's just unfortunate that such a detail inhibits your full enjoyment of the piece.

-dikear

Hh said...

Look at me, it's my blog and i can do whatever I want! Cool.

Anonymous said...

damn h, thats weak.

Hh said...

that's fine.

Anonymous said...

i really dont understand why you snubbed that one post. surely you didnt agree with dickhead?

Hh said...

I deleted it because it was a mess of bloviating insults. Feel free to share your criticisms, I welcome them, but I'm not gonna put up with that nonsense bullshit that made me stop reading RSD here.

Stephen Hubbard said...

Really powerful writing, thank you.

On one hand, I am completely unsure of how I would act in Muffin's situation, and on the other, I am absolutely amazed with how he actually did handle the good news. I had some ideas about what Muffin and you are like from blog and RSD posts and other media (never actually meet either), but this post conveyed something about who you are that is very deep and beyond a lot of the stuff we get in the normal Ultimate blogosphere.

Again, nice work.

Anonymous said...

ok, then just delet that stuff i said about dickear. Where does he get off thinkin he's the critisism police?

Anonymous said...

John Puss

Anonymous said...

dont think i cant do to your blog what i do to rsd. personally, i dont think you can keep up with me

Josh said...

Powerful stuff, Hh! I have enjoyed following your writing & this was a grand piece, made all the better by its being an actual "true story" from at least one subjective viewpoint. I agree that the point was not in learning the exact details of her whereabouts, since that was not part of what compelled the story's formation in your mind nor was it discussed nearly as much as the character & experience of her brother. If the gory details weren't important to Muffin, then they aren't important to the story, as told from this viewpoint. Cheers & please keep writing!

Anonymous said...

yes, please keep writing.....just quit sensoring. its unamerican!

Vector said...

"You're spending time reading a blog about an ultimate player."

Time well spent. Thanks Hector.

Anonymous said...

Great post.

Anonymous said...

the best blog i've yet to read on this blog site was by KD. And the best story he wrote was about his dog. Who obviously never played ulti. and that kook luke NEVER talks about ulti on his blog

Druski said...

Agree, Muffin's sister's whereabouts were "a plot device that motivates the characters or advances the story, but the details of which are of little or no importance otherwise."

Coulda titled the post "Muffin's MacGuffin".

Anonymous said...

i disagree druski. and i'm thinking there are some crucial facts missing that would clue us into muffins stohic reaction of his sisters return (which was kinda the highlight/conclusion of painting the picture that is muffin, right?).

One of those facts being what muffin possibly knew that h didnt when the news "shes back" was announced. My gut tells me he already knew she was back and h simply mistook muffins demeanor of being stohic for anger (and some possible embarassment).

As i said in my previous comment i, personally, would have been PISSED if it were the case that she just split and didnt tell anyone , which WAS, in fact, the case (as one anonymous poster made evident). So to me theres a hole in the story where one must speculate as to what motivated muffin to reacxt the way he did (which is what you and others are contending the story is REALLY ABOUT).

Of course once these gaps are filled it changes everything. And again, what happened with muffin and his sister is their bussiness of which i really have no concern. I'm simply offering a critique of the spranos like conclusion to what was building up to being a really good ending to a GREAT and suspenseful story.

maybe h has gained some insight to this whole story since he wrote it that might change things.

Druski said...

Um, the anonymous post about her whereabouts...? Pretty sure that was a Big Lebowski reference.

Anonymous said...

i couldnt have been......as i've never seen that movie. or were you just trying to be cute?

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Anonymous said...

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Anonymous said...

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