One of the teenage guys was looming over me, smelling faintly like something he shouldn't be smelling like. He stood there stupidly for a minute before asking, "Uh, dude. You alright?"
Yeah, that's why I was banging on the school doors.
"Do you know Xiu Li Zheng, by any chance?" At this point, it was worth a try.
"Nah, I don't." He turned around. "HEY!"
His little flock of clones meandered over.
"Do we know a Julie Chang?"
I'd had enough of correcting names at this point, and opted to remain silent. It didn't matter. One by one, the boys shook their heads. They looked at me.
"Oh. Well, um, thanks anyway," I said.
They stood there awkwardly for a minute. I took this as my cue to leave, stood up, and very gracefully tripped down the stairs. One boy snorted. I ignored him, and walked off down the block.
By now, I could see a couple of stars. I pointedly did not look at them. I stared at the sidewalk tiles, and counted my steps distractedly. 1, 2. 1, 2. 1, 2, 3. Where was I going, anyway? How exactly does one look for a vanished daughter? I passed the orphanage, and stopped. Sometimes she volunteers there, although she hadn't said anything of the sort about that recently. I decided again that I had nothing to lose, and ventured towards the orphanage.
I knocked as nonchalantly as possible, and some kid came to the door, opened it, and walked away. I was left standing in the front hallway of the orphanage like an idiot. Eventually I ventured in, accompanying my invasion with a tentative "Excuse me?"
A tall woman came around the corner, looked suspiciously at me, and said, "Yes?"
"Have there been any volunteer groups today?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid. It's an orphanage, you dork.
Her expression matched my inner monologue, and she looked rather sarcastic when she said, "Yes."
"Do you know if Xiu Li Zheng has been here?"
"No."
I wasn't sure what the "no" was in response to. I must've looked confused, because she quickly added,
"Would you like me to check the records?"
I nodded gratefully, and followed her down the hallway and into an office. She sat down behind a desk, while I made myself aware of the distinct lack of chairs in the office. I paced slowly back and forth around the room.
"What did you say your daughter's name was?"
"Xiu Li. X-I-U L-I."
She nodded. "Yep, she was here with a group today. Left about an hour ago."
I wasn't sure whether to leap for joy that my daughter apparently did exist, or continue my fatherly duty of worrying as to her whereabouts. I compromised with a smile.
"Do you know where she went?"
She looked at me condescendingly. "No."
I was getting good at exit cues, and took one at this moment.
The weather had cooled down significantly since the afternoon. It felt a lot less like a kiln and more like a toaster oven on the 'light' setting. I wasn't really sure where to look next. I pulled out my phone and called Xiu Li again, but it just rang and rang. I walked slowly back towards Castle Apartments. What was I supposed to do? There were no clues as to where Xiu Li was, and my feet were complaining at me for the extensive walking all over town. I went up the stairs to the sixth floor, and shuffled through my keys until I found the one mislabeled "603." (We're actually in 604, but it really wasn't worth fixing, and besides, it's great for preventing burglaries.)
I staggered through my bedroom door, collapsed on the bed, and tried one last time to call my daughter. I felt helpless. Wild thoughts raced through my head. Kidnapping. Death. Injury. Rape. I tried ignoring the scary images floating around, failed, and closed my eyes. I fell asleep almost immediately.
* * *
The daily Room 704 Banging of the Pipes commenced after what seemed like a few short minutes of sleep. I tried in vain to ignore the noise for about ten minutes, okay, thirty seconds, and then sat up grudgingly. Oh, fabulous. They were running late today. It was 4:53. I yawned, and tried to convince myself to touch my toes. When that didn't work, I tried the stretch where you flail your arms like a washing machine. My back made a weird popping noise (I think it did, I felt it, but over the B.o.t.P. I couldn't physically hear...) and I felt like an idiot, so I stopped. I informed my body that I was only 33. It remained silent. I dragged myself out of my room like a hungover zombie.
Since my daughter was missing, I did the most obvious first thing to do: I walked right past her room and made myself some coffee. Call me terrible, but I probably wouldn't even recognize her without caffeine. Did I mention I'd woken up before five? I drank two cups of coffee, and then began procrastinating checking Xiu Li's room. I rearranged the glasses in the kitchen cabinets. I wiped the dust off the TV screen. I shaved. I straightened the rug tassels. I shaved again. After I mopped the kitchen floor, I figured I was getting a little pathetic, and marched over to my daughter's bedroom. I knocked, and yelled "Xiu Li! Wake up!"
This was, of course, ridiculous. I never have to tell her to wake up. She should be crowned Miss Morning-Person America. As expected, there was no response from the room, so I opened the door and forced myself to look in. Sure enough, the bedroom was exactly as it'd been when I checked the day before, complete with a significant lack of Xiu Li.
I sat on her bed, thinking. I concluded that the time had come to start making phone calls, and made a list.
My first call was to Mrs. McMurray, who was one of the swim team moms. Xiu Li is pretty close with Hana (Helen? Havana? Helga?) McMurray, so it made sense to call her first. That, and she was the only swim team mom in my phone. I called her, and when she didn't pick up, I called her again. After the second ring, I was greeted enthusiastically by an impressively grumpy "What do you want?"
I was somewhat taken aback.
"This is Sophia McMurray?"
"Yes, it's me, Renshu, but what the hell?"
"Have you seen Xiu Li?" I was rather puzzled as to her crankiness; she's usually very nice.
"No, why would I have seen her? It's 5--"
She paused, probably to check the time.
"--thirty-one AM."
Ohhh!
Oops.
At this point, I got very awkward about the whole thing, feeling like an idiot for calling people at five-thirty in the morning, and explained,
"Well, see, the people above me were banging-- I mean, not banging, but banging, you know, like, with pipes, and so I woke up, and Xiu Li was at the orphanage yesterday but now she just, uh, isn't anywhere."
There was a very angry pause from the other end of the line, which I didn't know was possible.
"Good morning to you, Mr. Zheng," said Mrs. McMurray, and the most emphatic click I had ever heard ended the conversation.
In hindsight, I have no idea what she thought was wrong with me at that moment. Honestly, I really don't think I want to know.
I checked my pathetic little phone list. The only other people I had to call were the police. I didn't really want to call 911, so I figured I could just go to the actual police station and report Xiu Li's disappearance. Thankfully for me, this was essentially on my way to work. But I was going to need extra time. I put on my blue jacket, grabbed my bag, and descended the stairs with the enthusiasm of a sloth.
I walked out of Castle Apartments, and waited patiently to cross Poplar. (Some people spell it with a "u," like "Popular." I have no clue which one it actually is, since the spelling sort of alternates from intersection to intersection.) I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't one of the people who had to commute all the way into town before six in the morning. Almost immediately, I realized my stars weren't really lucky, as I had to wake up before five anyway and my only daughter had disappeared.
The light turned, and I crossed Pop[u]lar. Only one other person was out on the streets-- a disheveled-looking bum was rounding the corner from Brownstone. The pawn shop hadn't even thought about opening yet, but the clinic appeared to be. As I walked by, the bum dropped his mysterious bundle and sat on it, right outside the clinic. I took a second look and realized he was blind. He must have noticed I was there, though, since he yelled at me something about how I should be grateful for what I have, because I might lose it. I stopped, and looked at him (an effect which was lost on him, in all likelihood). "I've already lost my daughter," I told him. "I'm out looking for her." He looked surprised for a second, and shrugged.
"What will come will come," he told me, "even if I shroud it all in silence."
It was too early for philosophical statements, so I just kept walking. I walked past the Sawmill Theatre. I walked very quickly past the post office, so no one would think I was showing up early. At last, I arrived at the police station, and ventured inside.
There was an official sleeping at his desk, but no one else was in sight. I walked up to the desk, and stood there for about an eternity. I was about to say something when he startled, woke up, saw me, and startled again. He looked embarrassed for sleeping, and finally asked, "Can I help you, sir?" I realized at this point how creepy it was to stand there and watch someone sleep, and was equally flustered when I answered, "Um, yes, actually. My daughter has disappeared."
"Disappeared?" He excelled at stupid facial expressions, apparently.
"Yes. I was late getting home from work yesterday, and she wasn't there. I checked at the orphanage, where she works sometimes, but she'd left already."
The man (who was either named Bruce or had stolen a uniform from someone named Bruce) blinked slowly, as if searching his brain for an appropriate response. He found one to his satisfaction in there somewhere, and said, "You'll need to file a report. Hang on." He leaned back in his chair like third grade teachers say not to do, turned to yell to the back offices, and promptly fell over like third grade teachers say you will.
I wasn't sure whether I should laugh or help him, so I said, "Are you okay?" and coughed somewhat amusedly. He got up, looking extremely pink and muttering. "I'm fine," he said, and, this time standing, yelled to the back offices.
"HEY! We got a missing kid!"
A slightly overweight, uniformed man came out of his office with a clipboard. "Right in here, sir," he said, and I followed him, somewhat grateful to get away from Bruce The Awkward Clumsy Sleeping Man.
He pulled the door to, and said, "Now, who is missing?"
I explained everything I knew about the situation.
"I see," he said, puzzled. "Well, let's put out an alert. How old is she?"
"Fifteen."
He wrote something on his clipboard, probably "fifteen," and started to ask something else. He paused.
"How old are you?"
"Isn't that irrelevant?" I asked, as politely as possible while trying to change the subject.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he said.
Pause.
"Can you give me a description of your daughter?"
"Sure," I said. "She's 5' 6'', built like an athlete... brown eyes, blonde."
Mr. Overweight Police Guy stared. "Blonde?"
"Yes. She's adopted."
"Oh. So she's white."
"Yes."
"Oh," he said again. "What's her name?"
"Xiu Li Zheng," I told him.
He chuckled, shook his head, and had me spell that for him.
"Alright, let's double-check this. She's fifteen, blonde, athletic, about medium height, with brown eyes, and her name is... white, with brown eyes."
I smirked. "Xiu Li," I said.
"So she's adopted, huh? Are you in contact with the parents?" I wasn't sure if he was making conversation, or if he thought the biological parents had kidnapped her, or what.
"I don't know who the parents are. She was left at the orphanage, but there wasn't any room for another baby, and I was the first person they could convince to take her."
Now it was less about the report, and more about curiosity.
"Really? How old were you?"
Ah, he was still on the age thing.
"Eighteen. I was on my first route at the post office."
"So that's why you're so young!"
Great inner monologue, dude.
"Yeah," I finished lamely.
There was yet another awkward pause in my day while he let my fascinating story sink in.
"Well, we'll put out an alert for her. Let us know if you find her in the meantime," he said, and we shook hands.
I left for work. By now, it was 6:18, so I jogged back up the block to the post office. I ran in to grab my load for the day. Mr. DuBolaire was waiting for me like a vulture.
"Hello, Mr. Chen," he said coolly.
"Zheng," I muttered.
He ignored me, as I'd expected.
"Do you know what time it is?" he asked me, in a sing-song sort of way that made me want to answer, "Bath time!"
"Yes," I told him.
"So you're arriving late, fully aware that you are late?"
"Yes," I repeated, "but I really can explain--"
"Mr. Chen, I've told you. I don't know who your previous boss was, but clearly they were quite the lover of excuses. I don't care why you're late. I just care that you are late, and that I haven't seen any progress towards fixing your mail truck."
Was he serious? I hadn't had any time!
"Mr. DuBolaire, my daughter has disappeared," I said, omitting any segues. "And--"
Oh, lord, the interrupting was annoying.
"Work and family are like church and state, Mr. Chen. They do not coexist. Therefore, I suggest you keep your personal matters to yourself. In the meantime, it appears you don't have a truck to deliver your mail."
He had to be kidding. The post office owned about enough trucks to give every family in Castle Apartments their own mail route. "Why can't I just borrow one?"
"I don't know, Mr. Chen. Why can't you? Oh, let's think. You have already damaged post office property. Why should I trust you with a new truck if you couldn't take care of the old one?"
I opted not to say anything.
"At any rate, you have two choices. You can walk your regular route, and receive half pay for the day, or you can pay for the truck repairs now and borrow another one."
This felt a lot like someone asking me to choose the manner of my death. I didn't have the money to pay the truck damages yet, but on half pay, it would take me more work per day and twice as long to save up to pay the damages. At any rate, there was only one even feasible answer.
"I'll walk," I told him.
"Oh," he said, as if the next words were going to be related to slaughtering puppies, "and you owe me an hour of mail sorting for each minute you were late."
Three hours, plus walking my normal route? I had some words for him more colorful than the impressionist era, but I saved them.
I needed some way to tote my mail around without the truck, so I ran over to Forever 21 for the first time in my life. I asked to borrow a shopping cart for the day. The woman at the counter looked puzzled, but I think I must've looked pissed enough to scare her, since she said, "Uh, sure? Just return it when you're finished."
I grabbed a cart and ran back to the post office. I was already behind schedule, thanks to Mr. DuBolaire's little speech. I loaded all my mail into the cart and proceeded down my usual route. I kept thinking back to what the bum had told me: "What will come will come, even if I shroud it all in silence." That was essentially the perfect way to describe my relationship with my boss, I concluded, while delivering a bunch of credit card solicitations to a Miss Phat in box number 1234.
Lunchtime came and went, and I'd delivered less than half of my normal route's worth of mail. I walked from mailbox to mailbox, cursing Mr. DuBolaire and the stupid privatized post office that allowed him to be the way he was. I must have been quite a sight, a guy in a mailman's outfit running around during lunch hour with a Forever 21 shopping cart full of envelopes. Actually, I take that back. In this town, there are much weirder sights than someone delivering mail from a shopping cart.
It was actually almost dinner time by the time I finally finished delivering my entire mail supply and serving my three hours' time of mail-sorting hell (not to mention returning the shopping cart). I was starving, having had nothing to eat for the entire day, but I was also deathly worried about Xiu Li. I sprinted to the police station like a maniac.
Thankfully, there was a different person at the desk. This time, it was a middle-aged woman with maroon hair. I don't mean brown. I mean the dyed color that people who want to be redheads use. She looked up at me.
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Yes; I filed a report for my daughter's disappearance this morning, and I was wondering if any news had come in yet." I was surprised at how thin and scared my voice sounded. The crack on the word "yet" was a particularly nice feature.
She gave me what was clearly supposed to be a sympathetic look. It actually looked more like she had eaten a pickled frog and then been forced to pose for one too many yearbook pictures. Thankfully, it was only a fleeting expression, since she yelled to the back room for someone to check the Missing Persons records. She did so without falling out of her chair, which I somewhat appreciated.
The same man from earlier came out of his office. "Oh, it's you again!" he said. This time, I caught a glimpse of his name tag. His name was Richard.
"Hello," I said, and went on just a little impatiently to say, "Anything yet?"
He just stood there. "We-e-ell." He took a deep breath.
"None of our officers have seen your daughter," he finished. He sounded kind of suspicious.
"Really?" I inquired.
"We-e-ell." Apparently, that was a complete sentence.
"Sir, I just want to know where my daughter is," I told him somewhat stubbornly. He looked sheepish.
"One of our guys-- saw a girl who fit the description pretty well... but he says he didn't know her name..."
What kind of bad news was this? The guy was completely circumlocuting the point.
"Where?" I pressed him.
"In Isabella's Cafe." He blurted this out, as if it were a sunflower seed that had been particularly unpleasant to eat.
I was stunned. "You mean in Isabella's Cafe or in Isabella's Cafe?"
He shuffled his feet. "The second, sir."
Well, this was awkward.
"And you're sure she fit the description?"
"According to him, yes, sir."
Yet another pause. Was I wearing a sign or something? Hi, I'm Renshu. Please be as awkward as possible around me. "Well," I said, "I suppose I should go check, then." Oh, god, I was about to have to go into a strip club looking for my daughter. My day hadn't been boring, at least.
"Okay, sir... good evening to you," said Richard.
I left the police station hurriedly and embarrassedly. Fabulous. My daughter was missing, and the only sign anyone had seen of her was in Isabella's Cafe. There was obviously only one thing for me to do. At the same time, there was one thing that I really didn't want to do. Sadly, they were the same thing. With that, I turned and headed towards Isabella's. I was still starving, and I argued with myself on the way there as to whether or not I should eat at the cafe.
I finally got there just as the edges of the sky were turning pinkish. I stood outside the building for about ten minutes, fighting myself. I was not the kind of man to frequent establishments like this, but I certainly wanted to find my daughter. A man walked by me into the building. He stopped and turned around.
"Show's gonna start soon," he said. "Ain't no use standing there with your dignity. Drop it and go inside, or take it and go somewhere else." He swung open the door and went inside the building. After a minute or so, I followed him.
There were, as expected, some scantily-dressed girls in the front of the cafe. At this point, I was struck with the horrifying thought that if Xiu Li really was here, I would have to see her with many fewer clothes than I'd raised her to wear. That thought was disgusting, so I pushed it from my mind. I looked pointedly at the faces of the strippers. There were three of them, and none were particularly attractive. Then again, I suppose the logic of such an establishment is that anyone can look more attractive with fewer clothes on. The faces were tired, sad faces of girls who know that somewhere out there, their parents are ashamed of them. None of them, thankfully, belonged to my daughter. I was about ready to leave when a new girl came out on the stage. She looked really young. She was blonde, and fairly athletic-looking. Now I knew what Richard had been talking about.
But she wasn't Xiu Li. This realization washed over me in alternating waves of grief and relief. A dead end. Now, where was my daughter?
A woman came up behind me and asked if I would like anything to drink. I declined, and left the cafe. As soon as I walked out, I realized that I was still hungry. Gah, priorities. I decided to eat back at the apartment, and walked yet again all the way across town. The sun was about two-thirds of the way below the horizon by now. I got to Castle Apartments and went up the stairs to 604. I ran into the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. After a few minutes, I sat down and ate a quick but hearty supper consisting of a grilled cheese sandwich, some chicken, an apple, some yogurt, another grilled cheese sandwich, a Pepsi, and three pieces of Hawaiian pizza. At that point I stopped, feeling rather ashamed of myself. I wandered into the living room and flopped down on the couch. This action was met with a resounding yelp from something I was now sitting on.
I stood up quickly. The thing I had sat on turned out to be the back half of a cat, although the front half was what had made the noise. What the hell? Why was there a cat in my apartment? A small part of my brain tried to tell me that my daughter had obviously turned into a cat. I decided that part should be saved for old age or religious conversions, and ignored it. The cat appeared to be young; it was kind of small, and had grey fur.
Why do I always end up adopting random things? I had nothing to do with the poor kitty. It was too late by now to take it to a pet shop or anything, and I actually did appreciate the company, so I decided to let it spend the night. I felt it deserved a name, and made a quick check to confirm some biological factors in that process. I settled on "Fuzzball," then decided it needed a feminine touch and changed it to "Fuzzballe." Having worked very hard at this whole process, I turned my attention to the television. The mystery of the spontaneously appearing feline would have to wait. Fuzzballe purred next to me, and I petted her until sleep finally claimed me.
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