GAVIN.
"How old was your daughter when she disappeared?"
"Eighteen. She had just turned eighteen," Gina answers; eyes full of tears.
Our sister, Patricia, rubs Gina's shoulder, her own eyes filled with tears. "And we threw her a little party. Her friends were there. I remember how happy she was. She was so excited about college and moving away from home because Chissie loves being independent. She wanted to live in a new city, meet new people."
The television host, Natalie Walkmen, nods her head, pulling a very swift sympathetic act for what my family is going through. "And a couple of days later she's gone. How were you feeling then? What were you thinking the first few hours when she wasn't home?"
Gina wipes her tears, "The first few hours-" she remembers with a heavy heart, "I called my sister. I really thought she was with Tricia the whole time. I mean I called her the next morning, wanting to know where my baby is. I knew something wasn't right when she said Chrissie didn't spend the night at her house and she hasn't seen her for days."
"And that's when we started panicking. Because Chrissie never goes anywhere without telling any of us. She didn't come to my house. My two brothers, Gavin and Grant had no idea where she was. She wasn't with any of us. Not with her dad either."
"You couldn't reach her phone? You told detectives that Chrissie made it a habit to always keep her phone on."
Patricia nods. "She would never leave her phone at home or put it on flight mode. If she's in class, she would send a text, you know? She'd tell you she's in class and you can call later."
"Take us through the first stages of the investigation, when it's clear that she's missing and everyone is looking for her. I know it took a while before the police believed she was missing. How frustrating was it to know that your daughter is out there somewhere, possibly in danger, and you have to wait for forty-eight hours before you can report her as missing?"
"Oh God!" Patricia sighs. "I-I just couldn't take it. Neither of us slept. We formed a search party with our neighbours and friends because the police weren't going to do anything until after forty-eight hours. We talked to her friends, we followed leads. We searched everywhere. We called everyone. And we found nothing. I can't tell you how that ate me up... when there was a little hope somewhere, and we all thought 'maybe we'll find her here', only to look and come up empty. My sister couldn't get up. Gina didn't eat, couldn't bathe. All of us were numb."
"And then what happened when a missing's person report was filed? Was it taken seriously?"
Patricia shakes her head, "We had so many moments where we wanted to just kick the detectives, who were working on the case, out. Grant would really feel frustrated about their seeming to give up hope on finding my niece. They still don't, even now. You know, I've heard a few of them say that it's been so long since she's disappeared, she's probably dead or working in a brothel," she pauses, trying to compose herself.
"And it HAS been a while. She has been missing for six months. Today in fact marks the sixth month anniversary of her disappearance," Natalie says. She sounds mechanical, like she doesn't really feel the emotions. It's all about getting the story.
"These months have not been easy on us. We have all just-I can tell you that nothing has been the same for us without her. We still feel that hole, that space she filled when she was with us."
At this moment I notice Gina is really quiet, not making eye contact. She rocks in her chair, biting her lower trembling lip.
I almost want to feel sorry for her. Almost.
That day when Chrissie went missing, Gina spent the whole night partying with her celebrity friends. Unaware that her daughter wasn't home, she was snorting some shit into her nose. She didn't call Patricia until the next morning, inquiring about her daughter's whereabouts. She was too fucked up to notice that twenty-four hours had gone by without anyone having seen her daughter.
I don't know... Maybe everyone buys this whole 'grieving mother' act, but I know my sister behind the scenes, and she hasn't changed much since Chrissie's disappeance. She's still as self absorbed as she was, before her daughter was taken. By some miracle, when there's a camera in front of her, her pain resurfaces, and she presents a grieving face.
Okay, to be fair, I've seen some slight changes in her demeanour. Perhaps it's finally beginning to sink in that she'll never see her daughter again.
It's a little too late.
"I'm pleading with whoever has my baby. Please... I'll give anything to have her back home. She was a good kid. She deserves being with her mommy and everyone that cares about her. She has-she has her stuffed cheetah back at home. My baby can't sleep without it. She-she really needs us," she sobs.
Natalie continues, "And what do you say about the possibility of her not being alive at this point?" Gina collapses in her chair.
Fuck, I knew this interview was a bad idea.
••••
She's just popped another antidepressant in her mouth, downing it with a gulp of red wine. Patricia shakes her head, "Gina, you're not helping yourself with these pills. It doesn't make anything better." We're all here at Patricia's house, talking about the interview and the new leads we've come across. I'm sitting silently, watching everything, while Grant is on the phone shouting obscene things to someone.
Like always, Gina cannot keep her shit together. And we all know when my sister breaks down, drugs and alcohol are not far from her reach. "I just wish I had been a better mother. She wouldn't have gone. She would still be here."
Maybe.
It's new hearing her speak like this. But I guess loss is a cruel eye opener. The possibility of her daughter not ever coming back is a slap in the face. Maybe it will be a wake up call, although it's too late to help her daughter now. It's better for her to continue along her numbing ride.
I realise Patricia is not entertaining Gina's little tales of regret today. Good, because it usually ends in a fight that my brother and I hate getting involved in.
