Oliver
Saturday
I stare out the plane window, all alone with my thoughts. My wife Laura and I arrive in Hawaii at the same time but on different flights. She’s coming from Edmonton, she went to visit her parents while I had to stay back for work. Despite the separate flights, I am looking forward to our vacation and reuniting.
As I lean against the window, I watch my reflection progressively get closer and clearer. My short brown hair appears lighter in the sunlight, my head surpasses the seat, and my green eyes widen as I watch the landscape beneath us. I’ve always liked planes, it has always brought me peace. There’s something calming about watching ourselves progressively go higher and leaving the world behind. In some way it’s an escape, leaving everything, going somewhere else. I desperately need a break from work, it will be a perfect way to relieve all the stress.
Once we land, I immediately text Laura. I hurry to stand and reach up for my suitcase. I retrieve it and head for her gate where we planned to meet, checking my phone repeatedly. No answer. Once I get to her gate, I notice it’s empty, her flight should have arrived. Maybe she thought we were meeting at baggage claim? I call her while walking there. Once, twice, three times. Still no response. And she is no where to be found.
Growing concerned, I return to her gate to talk to an attendant.
‘‘Excuse me miss, there was a flight from Edmonton that was supposed to land at 1:30. Have they landed yet, was there a delay?’’ I ask worriedly, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘‘No sir, that flight landed almost thirty minutes ago,’’ she replies.
‘‘I can’t seem to find my wife, and she isn’t answering her phone. Is there any way you can make an announcement over the intercom?’’ I ask shocked and a bit scared. Surely there’s an explanation, the airport is noisy, she probably can’t hear my calls, or her phone might be dead.
‘‘Of course, what’s your wife’s name,’’ she asks
‘‘Thank you so much, it’s Laura Blaze,’’ I respond quickly.
‘‘No problem at all,’’ she says as she picks up the phone. She then starts speaking, calling for my wife to come to the gate.
Managing a grateful smile, I walk to a nearby seat, waiting for Laura to come back. Another thirty minutes go by and still no Laura. My calls all go straight to voicemail. After fifteen or so calls, I start to panic.
The next half hour becomes a blur as I search through the whole airport. With no luck, I ask the airport security for help. Even with their help, there’s still no sign of her. Exhaustion fills my body and terror fills my mind as I run through scenarios. What could have happened to her, why isn’t she answering her phone?
I decide to go to the hotel. Stepping outside the airport, Hawaii’s beauty briefly makes me forget about my worries. The cool and gentle breeze carries the smell of the ocean. But I can’t focus, I can’t stop myself from overthinking and worrying about what could have happened to her. Maybe she went to the hotel?
The taxi drive feels never ending. Once I get there I rush in the hotel. At check in, my hands shake as I take the room keys. Laura can’t be in the room, I’m the one who checked in but hope makes me rush to the room. I’m still hopeful that somehow she will be there. My heart drops as I open the door and don’t find her there.
This was my last chance, the only other place she could have been.
She boarded the flight, so where is she? I fight to stay calm as I pull out my phone and call the police. She’s missing and I need to find her, I know they can help.
Laura
Thursday
I’ve been at my parents house for almost four days now. I arrived in Edmonton on Monday, it’s now Thursday morning. While I love living in Washington and don’t want to move, I frequently/sometimes wish I lived closer to my parents. I try to visit them as often as I can, but finding the time isn’t always easy. When I do visit, I make the most of our time together.
These four days have felt much longer. It is quite quiet here, very different from my normal routine yet I cherish this time with my parents and want to see them so I don’t mind it. My husband, Oliver, had to stay behind because of his work, so it’s just me here with them. Since I got a few weeks off for the summer, and hadn’t seen my parents in a while, I decided to come visit them before Oliver’s break starts on Saturday. We are going to make the most of our break together and go to Hawaii, a destination I’ve longed to visit since I was younger, it seems like a beautiful place.
I’m sitting at my old desk in my childhood bedroom. My parents still live in this house and I am forever grateful. Walking through the same front door and hallways as I used to floods me with wonderful memories of growing up here. They say home is wherever you are with the people you love. While any house can become a home, once you are with your loved ones, this house will always be special to me, it will always be my home. It will always hold those memories and remind me of my family.
Here I am sitting at my desk covered in old stickers I put there as a teenager, staring at beautiful pictures of Hawaii on my laptop. I cannot wrap my head around how I will be there in a few days. Though it’s just a vacation, I am eager to explore the island and sea, and something about that brings me peace.
After spending a few hours planning activities for our trip, I decide to take my parents out to lunch. My mom just finished baking and my dad is back from golf, it’s the perfect time to spend some quality time with them.
As I walk out of my room, I smile at those funny familiar posters on my door that no one ever took down. I walk down the hallway and descend the stairs, finding my parents in the living room.
‘‘Hey mom, dad. We should go out for lunch,’’ I say enthusiastically, waiting for their response.
The next day, I’m re-packing all my things. I need to put everything in my suitcase and make sure nothing is forgotten for tomorrow’s flight. I have to be at the airport at around 6 am to make sure not to miss my flight. The flight is going to be rather long, it will be around 8 hours. I’ll arrive in Hawaii at 1:30 pm, local time.
After finishing my suitcase, I head downstairs for a snack. As I get to the kitchen, I can see from the patio door, the evening settling in, the sun slowly disappearing. The sky is painted with a mix of many colours, I can see lots of shades of pretty pinks and oranges, not a big sunset yet beautiful nonetheless. I find myself wondering what the sunsets will look like in Hawaii, making me smile and excited.
I reach for a bowl, tempted to grab a chair yet I stretch on my tippy toes instead. This reminds me of my childhood, always needing to get a chair to reach the high cabinets, never being tall enough. I grab the bowl and cereal and walk to the fridge for milk, my curly blonde hair bouncing with each step.
Oliver
Saturday
I get in a taxi and head to the police station. They want to ask me more questions about Laura before launching their investigation. Though I can’t give them many details about her current appearance since I wasn’t with her. But, I know her well enough to help. This is my last chance, I truly hope they can find her.
As the taxi pulls up, I step out, anxiously walking towards the station. My sweaty palms slips against the station’s door handle. The nearly empty police station is a small blessing, I won’t have to wait as much. At the front desk, I ask for the officer I spoke with earlier. The receptionist tells me that he’ll be with me shortly and directs me to the waiting area. I find a seat on a nearby chair and sink into it, trying to calm my nerves. Despite having shared most of the information with the officer on the phone, I have to describe her once more to make sure they have everything.
‘‘Oliver?’’ a man calls out.
‘‘Yes, I’m right here,’’ I say, rising to my feet.
‘‘Perfect, we’re ready if you are,’’ the police officer says.
‘‘Yeah, I’m ready,’’ I reply, following his lead.
We enter a room where another man is already waiting for us with a paper and pen ready.
The next hour passes as I talk to the officers and describe Laura in more detail. Before I leave, the police officer assures me they will do everything possible to find her. A flicker of hope rises in me and I can’t help but smile. Their help and dedication is making me believe we might actually find her.
Laura
Saturday
Rays of sunlight stream through my window, waking me up, accompanied by a symphony of chirping birds. Still drowsy, I look at the clock that reads 5am, and I can hardly contain my excitement. My bags, packed thoroughly the night before, wait by my door. All that’s left is to get ready, have one last breakfast at home and say goodbye to my parents, before heading to the airport.
The house is quiet as I eat my breakfast alone downstairs. My uber is arranged and my bags are set by the front door. I send a quick test to Oliver, though I doubt he will respond. With the time difference, he is an hour behind us still, still sleeping.
The gentle sound of my uber approaching draws me to my window. I swiftly shoulder my bag and embrace my mom. I say my goodbyes and head out. The morning air is crisp as I make my way down the front steps, my suitcase quietly rolling behind me. Soon enough, my bags are secured in the trunk of the car and we’re driving down the street towards the airport.
Once I arrive at the airport, nervous butterflies swarm in my stomach, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I hurry through the airport and security, finally settling at my gate with an hour to spare. A text from Oliver lights up my phone; he is on his way to the airport. We talk briefly before I lose myself in my book, waiting for boarding to begin.
The boarding call comes; I get up from my seat and walk towards the line. The terminal is buzzing and there are people everywhere. A sea of travelers form an enormous line. Once aboard, I find my window seat and settle in. I stare at the window admiring the beautiful blue sky and put the seat belt on. As we take off, I lay comfortably and drift into slumber.
My sleep was interrupted only by short moments of consciousness throughout the flight, sleeping through the majority of it. When we finally land, I am tired but well rested, my body weak from all the sleep.
After getting off of the plane, I head towards the meeting point where Oliver and I decided to meet. I feel a sudden urge to go to the bathroom and decide to take a quick stop, dragging my suitcase along. I reach the bathrooms and go as quickly as I can with my bags with me. I wash my hands, and as I walk to the hand dryer, my foot finds a puddle of water. Suddenly, I’m falling, my head hitting the hand dryer in a loud and sickening thud.
The world spins as I lie there, my ears ringing. Once I gather the strength, I slowly stand, almost falling back down, yet I manage to balance myself and stay steady. I collect my bags and take my time to walk out the bathroom, unsure where to go. I barely register the flash of movement before my purse gets yanked away. Instinctively, I sprint after him, and scream out but the throbbing in my head forces me to stop. The thief gets lost in the crowd with my important belongings, leaving me with just my suitcase. My phone and valuables are gone.
Disoriented, I make my way to the exit and decide to simply leave. Filling a report feels pointless, the man’s face is nothing but a blur. Once outside, the warm breeze hits me and offers small comfort as my head pounds. I call over a taxi and make the decision to go to the hospital to confirm nothing is wrong.
Oliver
Monday
Helplessness weighs heavily on my shoulders. Despite my repeated attempts to help the police, they just dismiss all my efforts, sending me away. I can’t help but feel discouraged. Two days have passed since I went to the police station and Laura’s disappearance remains a mystery. There’s no word of her. My mind races with dark and horrible possibilities.
It’s Monday morning, I’m laying on the hotel bed surrounded by an air of melancholy. Unnerving thoughts of Laura’s fate spiral through my mind, each more unsettling than the last. I need to get up and do something to get my mind off of things. The vacation activities that we planned together now seem like a biting reminder of her absence. We planned the itinerary together and the lack of her presence makes me feel wrong.
Finally, I make a decision. Slowly rising from the bed, I walk over to the small hotel closet. I take my hoodie off, revealing my bare skin, and search for another shirt. I select a loose green shirt, pulling it over my head. I look through my shorts and find an athletic black pair and put them on.
“Ready!” I say to the empty room, trying to lighten my mood with the small enthusiasm in my voice.
I find my running shoes waiting for me at the door and slip them on. I find my eyes directed to my reflection on the mirror. Fatigue has left its mark on me, dark circles shadow my eyes, and my complexion seems to be paler.
A short five minute walk brings me to the beach. I begin running on a beautiful path along the shoreline. I reach in the pocket of my shorts for my headphones but pull back. The symphony of crashing waves and the rushing wind soothes me. I continue my run, just like that, in relaxing solitude.
During a walking break, I call the police station. I repeat the same sentence I always do and ask if they have any news or leads on Laura and to my surprise they do. The officer shares the first lead: security footage of Laura exiting an airport bathroom, followed by a man grabbing her purse. The cameras later captured her leaving the airport and getting in a taxi, but something seems off. The police officer mentiones that she appeared disoriented, almost startled after leaving the bathroom. We don’t know where she went and I don’t understand why she simply left. Why didn’t she try to find me? Why leave so suddenly.
I decide to visit the station and examine the footage myself. Something about her behaviour after leaving the bathroom troubles me deeply. Despite the officer’s careful words, I sense there is more to the story, I have a feeling something happened to her in that bathroom.
I start running again and hurry back to the hotel. With time to spare before my appointment at the station, I decide to go for a swim. I run down the beach in front of the hotel. I tuck my phone and headphones beneath my shirt on the sand, hoping they’ll remain safe. I take my shoes off and walk towards the water.
Later, I find myself sitting down in the police station watching the security camera footage with growing concern. I begin analyzing her, her movements confirm my fears, something isn’t right. The subtle signs in her behaviour reveals a great deal.
“She appears unwell here,” I point out to the officer, expressing our shared concern.
“ We noticed that too, I’m glad we have something figured out” he agrees.
“While we’re still working to identify the purse thief and trace the taxi, we’re expanding our search to local hospitals as well. Her condition seemed concerning and this could be a suitable place to search” he replies.
“Okay, thank you. Please keep me informed of any new progress,” I request, hoping for news soon.
“Certainly. We’ll have an analyst review her behaviour more closely anc check admission records at nearby hospitals for anyone matching her description. I’ll contact you as soon as we learn anything,” he says kindly assures me, leading me to the door.
Laura
Saturday
I step into the hospital, the sharp and bitter scent of antiseptic sting my nostrils. Making my way to the ER, I approach the front desk where a receptionist looks up from her computer screen.
“Hi miss, how can I help you?” she says warmly.
“I took a fall and hit my head,” I explain. “I feel fine, but I wanted to get checked for a concussion just to be safe.”
Her expression softens with concern. “You definitely made the right choice coming in. Head injuries are serious, not something to take lightly. Please head to Room 3, a doctor will be with you shortly. ” She gestures down the hallway with a comforting smile. R
“Thank you” I say as I walk away
Following her directions, I find the room and settle down onto the examination bed with my back against the wall. The paper crinkles beneath me as I wait.
What follows is a blur of tests and questions. The doctors’ faces grow increasingly concerned as it becomes clear that my memory is more than just fuzzy, it’s completely blank. I can’t recall my own name, my family, my past, nothing. The reality of the situation sinks in, it’s even worse that someone stole my purse, taking my phone and ID with it. I’m feeling completely confused and on the verge of breaking down. I’m a blank slate, with no way of proving who I am.
I lay on the hospital bed staring at the plain white ceiling trying desperately to remember my name. Then, the doctor returns. I straightened up bracing myself for the confirmation of what I already suspect.
“The test results confirm what we suspected, you’re experiencing post traumatic amnesia” he says gently.
“Oh” I manage, still surprised by the apparent news.
“We’d like to keep you under observation for a few days to monitor changes,” he continues. “While amnesia can last anywhere from days to months, given your case, I’m optimistic we’re looking at a shorter rather than longer recovery period.”
“Okay, thank you so much. It’s wonderful news” I say relieved, clinging to the hope of remembering everything soon.
“We will also need to file a police report about your stolen identification,” he adds.
“Yes, of course” I nod, grateful.
Laura
Monday
The hours drag by as I lie here in this hospital bed. It’s been so dull, trying to follow the nurse’s constant reminders to relax and rest. But how can I possibly find peace when my own identity remains a mystery.
I expected the police to show up days ago after the doctor mentioned contacting them on Saturday, but apparently they haven’t gotten to it yet. My stolen purse is probably emptied by now, but without a phone, I’m helpless to do anything about it.
Just then, as if they heard my thoughts, one of the secretaries appears in the doorway.
“We have informed the police about the situation and they will be here soon to take your statement” she says sweetly.
She walks away before I get a chance to thank her. Despite my nerves, relief washes over me. I’m glad they’re finally coming. Following the doctor’s orders to avoid screens, I pick up the book next to me and read to pass time.
The officer who enters is tall with short blond hair, his uniform crisp and neat.
“Hi Laura,” he greets me as he walks into the room. I stare at him a bit confused, the name catches me off guard, apparently that’s who I am.
“Hi… that’s my name?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yes it is. So you still don’t remember anything yet? How are you feeling?” he asks gently.
“I’m okay, but everything’s still blank,” I admit.
“I’m officer Blando, and I am going to ask you a few questions. Don’t worry if you can’t remember everything.” he says reassuringly.
I nod. I set my book aside before turning back to give him my full attention.
“Do you remember where you were on Saturday?” he says.
“Um yes” I drag my response as I remember what had happened. “I don’t remember anything before that but on Saturday afternoon I was at the airport when I fell and hit my head. Then someone took my purse and ran.”
“We’re tracking down your belongings, and your cards have been frozen, with the help of your husband,” officer Blando mentions casually.
My heart skips a beat. Husband? The word feels unfamiliar, yet apparently I’m married.
“My…husband?”
“Yes, you were here on vacation. He reported you missing when he couldn’t find you.”
I froze, a wave of guilt washes over me. I’d been so focused on myself, I hadn’t even considered others might be searching for me.
“I am going to call him, he asked to be notified as soon as we found you,” the officer adds.
I manage a quick nod as he heads for the door.
“Wait!” I call out.
“Yes?”
“Could you tell me his name?”
“It’s Oliver,” he says before leaving the room.
Oliver. I repeat the name many times over in my head, hoping it might trigger something, anything. But still, no memory.
The next half hour feels endless as questions swirl in my mind. I can’t stop thinking about Oliver, and my family, my parents, do I have siblings? I can’t recall any of it.
When Officer Blando returns, he’s not alone. The man who follows him into the room, walks in front of Mr. Blando and stops my breath. Suddenly, memories of him flood back. It’s not everything but it’s something. It’s a beginning.
Young Writers Club 