The Disappearance

The sudden spark followed by the warm orange glow made Will wince in the darkness. It was coming from a battered, but still dependable Zippo lighter. It was one of the few things his father left him before disappearing from his life forever.

Will gingerly brought the flame to the tip of his cigarette. he stared into the flame as he drew the acrid flavor of the stale tobacco into his lungs. It came from one of many packs of Sierra Valley shorts he had hidden around the house when Beth was still there. When she was still able to nag him about smoking too much. How long had the pack been behind his nightstand? 2 years? 3? He had a decent run.

He snapped the cover of the Zippo back in place extinguishing the flame instantly. His eyes drifted to the clock across the room. He squinted as his eyes adjusted back to the dark.

2:13 A.M.

Will laid his head back on his pillow. He took one more long draw before dropping the half smoked cigarette into a cup next to the discarded pack wrapped in cellophane.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself upright. He recalled so many nights like this where a gentle touch would coax him back down. The memory of that touch felt like it was someone else’s story a lifetime ago. He glanced to Beth’s undisturbed side of the bed then hung his head.

“Well if sleep is going to be a stranger I might as well make the most of it” he muttered to himself as he stood up. He made his way to the bathroom across the hall. Entering he fumbled for the switch. The same way he had for the past 7 years he’d lived in this house. He told himself it was because it never truly felt like home. That became more true five weeks prior when Beth failed to come home.

The sterile glow and buzz of halogen erupted above the bathroom mirror. The light was blindingly brilliant. Beth always insisted on the best lighting so she could expertly apply her makeup. She had a natural beauty. A fact that Will made sure to remind her of daily.

He inspected the face staring back at him from the mirror. The bags under his eyes added a couple of years to his face. He turned on the cold tap, cupped his hands under the stream of water, and then brought it to his face. Whatever drowsiness he may have still felt was immediately wiped away. The water trailed down his face and dropped from his chin. He reached for the towel next to the sink, wiped his face, and then the droplets on the ledge of the sink.

He killed the electric buzz of the bathroom light and headed down the hall. He entered the room that had become his home office. After the initial shock of the first week had died down it had become the most used room in the house. Will had begun to tirelessly research any leads in Beth’s abrupt vanishing. Both the leads the police updated him with and the ones he uncovered. The ceiling fan slowly came to life as the gentle glow of the light gradually brightened the room.

He walked over to study the board littered with ongoing leads and dead ends already exhausted. In the middle of the sprawling mystery was a picture Will had taken of Beth one summer afternoon. Her red hair alive in the breeze and set on fire by the late July sunlight.

He let out an audible sigh as he turned towards the desk. Walking around to the chair he prepared himself for another day of trying to solve his own real life mystery.