What if...

Have you ever found yourself asking the question, "What if?" So many lives can be changed from those two words. In the 4th grade my teacher read a children's book about toys coming to life after all the children had gone to sleep. From that point on, I made sure I played "nicely" with all of my toys. Think about it, what if they did come to life when I was sound asleep? In my child's mind, an anger toy roaming around while I was resting was not a comforting thought.

Remember Y2K? Everyone prepared for everything to happen and nothing happened. Wouldn't it make a great story if there was more to Y2K than we all considered? What if it was a cover up for something bigger? What would that look like in a story? What if it started out with something like this--

Y2K

The garbage disposal made the same clunking sound it usually did when an object of challenging size was forced down its throat. Katherine looked over at Mike. He snapped the newspaper as he turned the page and held it a little higher to block the accusing look he received. Before Katherine could question Mike about the object he had broken, her eyes caught sight of a small blocked article in the right hand corner of the paper. The only words that Katherine could read from where she was standing were Missing Child.

Quickly wiping her hands on the dish towel, she shoved enough of the towel into her jean pocket to hold it in place and walked over to Mike. He was taken by surprise as she snatched the page that caught her attention.

“Hey, wait a minute, it wasn’t my fault—” Mike had been mentally preparing for his defensive argument when she abruptly removed part of the paper.

After spewing out his best defense, Mike realized his words had fallen on disinterested ears as he saw the scowl on Katherine’s face along with her rapidly moving lips. Usually when she was focused on reading anything she silently moved her lips. Mike told her it gave him the willies, but after 10 years of marriage, she told him to get use to it. He never did and turned his attention back to the headlines he was reading in the local part of the news.

He intentionally pulled the Mariner's baseball cap further down to obstruct his view of his wife's neurotic habit.

“Not another one.” Katherine finally whispered. Mike glanced up to show interest and hoped the object in the garbage disposal had been forgotten until he could move it to the outside trashcan.

“Another what, Kat?”
“Child.”
“Hmm?” Mike slightly rose from his chair to get a better look at the page Katherine was holding.
“Another child, Mikey. Another one is missing.” Reading through the brief article again, Katherine absent-mindedly started to pick at her lip. Mike hated this behavior more than when she silently moved them.

“Kat, stop.” Mike reached up and pulled her hand away from her face and continued to pull her down until she sat on his lap. Now he knew she was really distracted. Usually she protested when he tried to get her to sit on his lap. That went out the door year eight of their marriage.

Removing the baseball cap, Mike encircled his arms around her waist. He could still smell the honeysuckle shampoo she had used that morning. He loved the natural waviness of her dark brown hair and was glad she had keep her hair long after their marriage.

Most of the time she pulled it back in a ponytail, but this morning her hair loosely rested down her back. Gently wrapping a handful of her dark locks in his hand, Mike barely inhaled a complete breath before she wiggled free and stood over the paper she had laid to rest on the table. So much for affection.

Her eyes quickly traveled up to the page identification number. She already knew the page number—two.

Same page, same location nothing was different about the small article most people probably overlooked. That’s where the article always was, page two bottom right hand corner, covering a one inch by two inch blocked off section with the heading Missing Child. The first sentence of the article did not surprise her either.
Ear of birth—the typo glared at her. The “y” was missing in the word year.

“Every time the same typo, Mikey.”

He looked searchingly on the page for the article that disturbed Katherine. Realizing Mike did not see what was obvious to her; Katherine huffed and slammed her finger onto the article.

“It’s right there. It’s in the same place with the same mistake every time. Why don’t you know where to look?”

“Because I don’t look for it every time.” Mike did not try to hide his irritation.

“Look, Kat, I know it’s not easy for you when you see this, but constantly searching the paper for these articles can only hurt you more.”

Throwing the dishcloth over her shoulder, Katherine glared at Mike before she headed back to the sink. Having formulated her thoughts, she turned and said, “I didn’t look for the article. You held up the paper, remember?”

She intentionally flipped the switch on the disposal as she stare angrily at her husband. Without the water to soften the noise, the sound of broken glass in the disposal was unmistakable.

Mike started to open his mouth to argue his defense, but the look on Katherine’s face dared him to deny his guilt.

Shoving the rest of the paper aside, Mike quickly rose and snatched up his Mariner's cap. “I give up” he said as he brushed past her. She waited until she heard the back door slam before she moved away from the sink.

Retrieving the kitchen scissors, Katherine carefully cut out the article on page two.

Opening the desk draw under the flour and sugar canisters on the counter, she pulled the manila envelope from under the scattered tool in the drawer. Briefly, she looked at the content. In the corner of each of the previous articles she had saved, Katherine had written “Y2K.” This was her identifying abbreviation for the missing children.

It was a lot shorter to write Y2K than it was to write “missing ‘y’ in article on page two about missing kids”. She wrote her identifying mark, Y2K, and date on the new article before she placed it in the envelope.

In January of 1999, Katherine did not know how close she was to knowing the truth about all that haunted her.