Rain dripped down the overflowing gutter. Leaves and sticks bent down with the added weight of falling water. Birds and other common animals hid in their homes hoping that their nests and dens wouldn’t flood. A light flickered in the distance, illuminating golden arches. Cars drove by in small groupings as traffic flowed with the reds and greens of the streetlights. It was, so far, the coldest day of the year. If it hadn’t been raining, it would be considered long sleeve weather, but the added chill of the rain made the call for light jackets.

A small building, that was nothing more than a large single room, seemed to be the gathering place of many likeminded people. People who called themselves friends or even family, but everyone who actually went into this building knew the truth. They didn’t really know these people. They were friends simply because of happenstance, not because anyone actually wanted to know each other. There was only one who actually wanted to meet the others. She was their leader. Their confidant. Their hope. But she was simply a nameless caregiver, simply a steppingstone for the others on their journey though their own lives. But she didn’t care, she was happy with who she was. She could live knowing that she touched other’s lives.

The room was nothing more than an alignment of chairs with a small podium at its head. By the door was a small table full of refreshments. Stale donuts seemed to be the most popular, but crackers, small bags of chips, even black and white layered cookies laid on the table. A small coffee maker filled to the max volume slowly heated and dripped through the old grounds. Creamers and stirrers were held with in a variety box of coffee essentials.

The leader stood before everyone else at a small podium. They sat in small plastic chairs. Each had their own tics and habits, the woman knew. One would bounce their left leg when anxious, and the right when excited. Another would chew on her nails if caught in a lie. Some scratched their skins to the point of bleeding; those were the ones she worried about the most. And others simply had dead and dismissive eyes. She cleared her throat and addressed the room.

“Thank you everyone for coming. Before we begin, we have a few who have met some milestones.” The looked around the many faces, “Steven? Would you care to speak?”

“No.” Steven grunted.

“Alright. Come and get your pin. The first month is the hardest. Congratulations!”

She began a clap, causing everyone to follow suit. Steven came and went, clutching the small pin dearly in his rough hands. The woman looked along the crowd again.

“Madison? Do you want to speak?”

Madison slowly nodded and made her way to the podium. Madison’s eyes darted back and forth, from the door to the crowd. Eyes peered into her as she stood in silence. She quickly turned to the leader, snatched her pin, and sat back down. The woman began another series of clapping.

“Lastly, Bill!”

Bill was a tall man. Age showed deeply in his eyes and his gut. Resent events in Bill’s life had caused many hardships, a few of which he was still recovering. He wore nice slacks and a plaid button-up shirt. A smooth belt and polished shoes tied the wardrobe together. To an onlooker, Bill would have looked like he had just come from work. His suit jacket he had draped over the back of his chair only added to this.

Bill walked with a sort of pride in his step. He had been to these meeting for just over a month now and he was finally receiving his pin. The woman handed him his pin. It was a small bronze bird. It was simplistic in design, only having a divot of texture to separate wings from its body. On the back was a stylized ‘1’ with a small needle protruding out of the center.

“Good evening, everyone.” Bill said to the crowd. “I am Billy Fowler a-and I am an alcoholic.”

“Hi Billy.” The crowd answered in turn.

“I don’t want to bother you all with the details, so let’s just say I lost someone. He disappeared right from my life, and it hasn’t been the same since. I fell into my drink trying to forget. Or trying to remember… I’m not sure which. I’ve been coming to these meetings just like all of you. I sat where you sat on my first few days thinking what horse shit these meetings were. I hated coming here. I truly honestly did. I still do, as a matter of fact. But I promised someone I would come. She pushed me along, she put up with my depression and attitude. She is the only reason I am here today; am I am thankful. Over my month here, I have seen many faces come and go. Some I see the next week, other fade from my memory. I hope that you all make a permanent resident in here, trust me, you will be better off. If any of you need to talk with someone, I am here for you.”

Bill made one more sweeping look across the crowd. “Thank you.” He said, causing everyone to clap.

Bill sat down exhausted. He was used to public speaking by now. His job demanded him to talk in many meetings, but this was the hardest speech he has ever said. His armpits and back were damp and his legs wobblily. He felt sick, but as the moments passed his mood brightened, he felt happy, he felt good. It was liberating to Bill. His life had been turned upside down and for the first time in what felt like years, he felt right side up.

The meeting went along like all of others. The leader gave a small speech before opening the floor to anyone who wished to speak. A few of the regulars gave similar speeches to Bill’s. Others, primarily faces Bill had seen a few times, told their stories. Alcohol, heroin, cocaine, even meth were the common denominators between everyone’s stories. How each of them got to substance abuse was all unique, however. Each story had its own villain, rising action, and climax. Some were exaggerated, others left out primary details. Some were similar to Bill’s, having loss as the main focus.

The leader changed the group’s focus to a special topic. It was different every time, but the overlying theme is always recovery. It was a difficult discussion for many as the subject matter hit to close to home for many. But as the allotted hour and a half ticked down, people become more open. Bill talked about his situation, along with others, and his ideas about moving forward.

The meeting ended, like all the others, with a few leaving, but the majority standing around the refreshments table talking. They would often stay until their allotted time ended and the lights in the building turned off. Word of congratulations went around the room as Bill talked with each of them. Some patted him on the back, while others looked on with envy. Eventually the lights did turn off and everyone proceeded to get in their cars and leave. But not Bill. He walked through the storming night, across the street to a small restaurant.

A woman gently waved as the door brushed past the entry bell. A chime that Bill was very familiar with. He sat across from the woman, the booth creaking with his weight and water slicking off him onto the varnished seats. The woman was of average height, but significantly skinnier than people of her demographic. She had pale, frail skin, unkissed by the sun for many months. She wore a thin windbreaker with a hood. Perfect for the rainy weather. Upon her dainty finger was a thin metal band signifying better days along with the strength of two.

He gave her a sincere smile and carefully placed his pin on the table and slid it to her. She eyed the small bird like it was a holy treasure lost for countless years.

“Congratulations, Billy!” She gave him a warm and familiar smile, one that he matched.

“Thank you.” Bill said with a slight tear in his eye.

“The usual, you two?” A voice bellowed from the kitchen.

“Yes! Thank you, Omar!” Bill yelled back.

The small restaurant had been like a second home to Bill and his wife, Claire, recently. It became somewhat of a minor tradition for Claire to wait on Bill as he went through his meetings. Claire would often work on her laptop or read a book, but she didn’t mind the two hours of boredom. If anything, she welcomed it. She knew that as she calmly waited at the restaurant, Bill was receiving the help he needed.

“There was a man there today. He lost his daughter. I-I wanted to leave him my phone number, but he left before I could speak to him…”

“He’ll be back.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

A few minutes later Omar brough over three plates. Two had gyro wraps with accompanying vegetables and yogurt sauce. The third was a simple plate of thick cut fries. Bill found the food very comforting, something he was lacking now-a-days. As the two quietly ate, they discussed their days. Claire had taken their middle child, Logan, to the doctor. He has strep. They talked about when it would be time for him to see the doctor by himself, Logan could drive himself and he had an extra insurance card. But both Bill and Claire didn’t really want Logan to go by himself, it would only show that he was growing up and that scared both of them.

After taking Mitch, the youngest son, to school, Bill had a rather stress-free day at work.

Bill talked about how his coworkers still seem scared to talk about him. They delegated most of his work to other teams on other branches, something that Bill was rather guilty about. Claire reminded Bill of Mitch’s lacrosse match over the weekend and the canned food drive at the highschool. The meal ended and it was time to head back home. The boys would be getting worried pretty soon.

With Logan full of antibiotics, he was off to school since his fever broke. Normally, Claire would allow him to stay home, but since he had already missed so much school this semester, he had no choice but to. Logan and Mitch both had missed a large chunk of the semester. The faculty and administration both understood why, but at the end of the day, they had to go.

Alone in an empty house gave Claire plenty of time to think. And think. And think. Her mind wondered to her missing son. He was out there, she knew it. Mother’s intuition. Everyone said he was gone, he was dead. But she believed otherwise. Her son wasn’t the type to be a part of a rough crowd. He wasn’t the type to do or deal drugs. He wasn’t even the type that stayed up late on workdays. But she also knew he could take care of himself. Unless someone really wanted to, and she didn’t think that any one did, he wouldn’t be taken without a fight.

His apartment looked pristine. Well, as pristine as a young adult could manage. Every window and door were locked. Every light except the for the lamp closest to the door was off. He always left the one lamp on. There were no signs of break in or foul play.

Maybe he packed up and decided to live in a cabin somewhere. Claire thought.

Claire slowly made her way out of the kitchen. At the stairs, she briefly hesitated. She hadn’t looked in his old room in a little bit… Her eyes wondered longingly up the woodgrain steps, peering across the banisters and finally lingering on a familiar white door. His door. She shook her head knowing it would bring her nothing but grief. A ding sounded across the room, which woke up a screen. A small notification appeared on the family computer.

Claire gently sat down; her eyes already having read who the message was from. Officer Garcia, the small box read. The policeman in charge of her son’s case. Her case. It had been radio silence from the man for weeks. Last time they spoke, it ended with Bill cursing at the tired officer. Claire assumed that someone else would have taken over the case.

The message opened into an email service, allowing Claire to read the full email. Officer Garcia wanted her to come down to the station. They had a few matters to discuss. He also linked a database of missing and found young adults. Claire knew that avenue was hopeless, however. She had already subscribed and scoured them. It would have been a nice gesture a few weeks ago, but now, now it told Claire they had given up.

She slowly made her way though the house. Showing, dressing nicely, and making a small lunch. Officer Garcia wanted to meet in the early afternoon. She checked the weather, more rain. She tried to watch the news. She scrolled though social media. The ‘thoughts and prayers’ had long since ended. She had nothing to do for a few hours. Something that Claire found happening more often these days. Her mind wondered to his bedroom. She quickly changed her thoughts. If she went in there now, she knew that she would miss her meeting.

Deciding it would be best to get there early, Claire got in her beat-up old car and left for the police station. Rain slowed her journey by only a few minutes. An eternity went by as she waited in her car. She passed the time by watching the rush of the uniforms moving from the building to their cars, occasionally pulling someone in handcuffs with them. After being given a visitors’ badge, Claire moved into the main lobby. There she found a perfectly dry officer Garcia. He looked much as Claire remembered. Tan, bushy facial hair, bald, sunglasses, and the iconic blue and grey law enforcement uniform.

“This way Mrs. Fowler.” He spoke in clear words, not riddles and without hidden meaning. Something that, for some reason, reassured Claire.

The made their way through the cubical portion of the of the precinct. It looked much like your everyday office, but without the tall dividers that were placed in between each desk. Eyes slowly followed Claire and Garcia as the walked, but quickly turned back to their own work. Garcia’s desk was towards the back, in a corner. He was the type to prefer being more isolated rather than being in the center of the room. He gestured for Claire to sit, and she did.

“I am going to be blunt, Mrs. Fowler. The timeline for most cases like your sons does not lead me to believe he is coming back. He is either dead or wishing to stay gone. If there had been more evidence or suspicion, maybe I would redact that statement. But with the way things are…”

It was a statement that Claire had come to expect, but one that hurt, nevertheless. Tears slowly streamed down her eyes as she stared off into the distance. Her mind, subconsciously, read and reread a poster of a cat holding a toy rocketship. Eventually her thoughts caught up with the situation and she spoke.

“You are just giving up then? Case closed?”

“No.” Garcia said. “The case will remain open. With that being said, no more manpower will be attached. I am sorry.”

“What good does the case being opened do if you stop your search?”

“It being open allows other officers, if the need arises, to see details of your son’s case easier. Cases have and will continue to be solved off the backbone of previous cases.”

“And these future cases? Will they help find my son? Will they bring him back to me?”

Garcia save a slight shake of his head.

“No. But your son’s case may be able to help others.”

Even though his statement was a simple rehashing of his previous, for some reason it removed the dagger that was impaled in Claire’s gut. A feeling of pride, and of guilt, rebounded through her body. Her son could help others. But he was still missing. Garcia abruptly stood up. He moved around the side of the desk and removed a tissue box.

“Stay here as long as you need.” He said moving the box closer to Claire. “When you are ready, I’ll show you out.”

Claire nodded, her tears making her unable to speak.

“I hope you find peace one day.” The officer said. Claire couldn’t see it, but behind Garcia’s thick sunglasses were red and swollen eyes. Ones bursting with dry tears.

The funeral was three days later. Distant relatives showed up expressing their sorrow and understanding. Small offering of food were given to the family. A frozen lasagna from one, a baked casserole from another. A few from Bill’s meeting came to show their support. It was a nice gesture, but Bill couldn’t help but think it was hollow.

Mostly everyone was wearing black, a few had dark grey, but the tone was more than set. Teachers and family friends stood towards the back, allowing relatives to have better views. A few people that neither Claire nor Bill had seen in many years showed up. Friends of the lost one. The family met new faces. Coworkers and bosses. Claire was happy to see everyone that her son had ever touched. It reminded her of better times.

Everyone watched in silence as an empty coffin was lowered into the damp soil. One might say the weather was perfect for funerals. Overcast with a hint of rain, rain that only come out after everyone had already left.

Logan and Mitch sat watching piles of dirt slowly cover the mahogany hardwood disappear. Logan sat in seething hatred of his brother. How could he leave! He thought. How could he leave us! Logan’s anger was, while unjustified, not inherently wrong. Logan knew just how much his disappearance hurt his family. His dad started drinking, his mom stares at empty rooms and his younger brother doesn’t talk anymore.

Mitch, on the other hand, was sad. Sad that his brother was gone, sad that his parents were different and sad that his brother was angry. But most of all, he was sad because he had to miss his lacrosse game. The one thing that had brought joy to him in the last month.

Claire stood with her back turned to the open hole. She couldn’t bare to witness it anymore. He was out there, she knew it. He was alive and in danger. He would come back one day with countless tales to tell over dinner. He was alive, she knew it.

Bill stood with his eyes glued to the diminishing hole. He seared the image into his head. But as the image slowly changed from a hole to a muddy patch of grass, his thoughts changed. From his son and the casket to the bottle of bourbon he had hidden in his trunk. For a rainy day. He told himself. The only issue was that most days were rainy this time of year.