My Brother is Missing

Mom had taken my brother, Cam, to the beach to go swimming. He didn’t get to the shore often, so it was a treat. It was a hot summer day in July and they were both looking forward to a dip in the ocean.

The day they choose was much like any other. Sunny and hot. Mom had gone through hip surgery a few years ago and could still be a bit unsteady. She asked my brother if they could hold hands. She slipped her hand into his. Together they waded out into the surf.

The waves were not as rough as she anticipated. Her confidence grew. He released her hand. She was not yet ready to head back to the beach, but he said he wanted to take a walk. She nodded, and off he went. She watched him for a moment, then turned to watch the horizon bob up and down.

When she grew a bit weary, she decided to head back. Her hip would bother her at times like these, when fatigue set in. Her earlier determined footsteps became grim and labored. The beach, only five minutes away earlier, now seemed more like 25 minutes away. Damn this hip. Damn the heat.

Mom finally emerged from the surf. She made her way to where they left their beach blankets and chairs. Cam was nowhere to be seen. She felt uneasy.

It wasn’t like Cam to wander off without telling her. She wondered if something had happened to him on his way to shore – a cramp. She hadn’t watched him come all the way in. Or, perhaps someone had grabbed him after he had gotten to shore – a

kidnapping. She read of such things happening. She knew what she would do. She would tell a lifeguard.

"Excuse me, sir, my son is missing, and he is wearing special trunks,” she announced. The lifeguard, being an alert sort of person, immediately seized upon that critical fact, and pounced.

“Oh, My God, Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” he said. “We’ll do everything we can to find your son. What is his name? These ‘special trunks’ of his could be a distinguishing feature—What kind of orthopedic trucks are they? Oh, and how old is your poor little boy?

My rapidly panicking mom replied, haltingly, under a welling veil of tears, “My son’s name is Cam. His trunks are very special – a now discontinued nautical red. I got them on sale for just 1.99! I bought them for his father, who wore them only once before he died, but don’t tell my son that,” she quickly added in a conspiratorial fashion. The lifeguard slowly lowered his detective’s pad.

“I never told him. If I told my son that he never would have worn those lovely red trunks.”

“He’s wearing a dead guy’s trunks,” the lifeguard said flatly.

“And my son just turned 40 in April,” she added brightly, ignoring the lifeguard’s comment.

At that moment, six-foot tall, 40-ish man with long hair wandered up behind Mom. The lifeguard’s jaw dropped and he stared open-mouthed as my brother piped up from behind her and said, “Hi, Mom. I went for a walk. Who are we looking for?”