Perchance to Dream

No explicit sex.

"You'll have to make your own dinner tonight."

That's the way my wife greeted me when I got home from work that Friday evening. Helen walked into the living room fiddling with an earring. "I'm going out dancing with friends."

I stared at her in disbelief. She was wearing a short black dress with a plunging neckline held up by four spaghetti straps that crisscrossed over her shoulders. When she turned away from me, I couldn't help noticing how the folds of her skirt fluttered around her thighs. Then I saw the open back, which made it clear that Helen wasn't wearing a bra.

"You're going out dancing dressed like that?"

"Why? What's wrong with what I'm wearing? It's very stylish."

I felt my anger growing, but knew I had to be careful about what I said next if I wanted any chance of getting through to her. "There's nothing wrong with your outfit, but you're showing a lot of skin. Don't you think you're going to attract the wrong kind of attention, especially from men?"

She gave a little snort. "If Nancy and I dance with any men while we're out, I'm sure they'll be perfect gentlemen."

"You can't be sure of that. For all you know, one of them could be the Ringmaster, and you sure don't want to attract his attention."

The "Ringmaster" was the nickname the media had given to the serial killer who'd been terrorizing the area. He'd raped and strangled eight young women in the last year. The only clue the police had was that each victim was missing her rings when she was found, and the speculation was that the madman was building a grisly collection.

Helen's mocking response came in a little girl's voice. "Ooh, Daddy, is the boogeyman going to get me?" Then her voice returned to its normal contemptuous tone. "It's so pathetic that you're trying to control me with ghost stories."

Before she could elaborate, a honk from a car horn sounded out front. "I don't have time for this," she spat. "Nancy's here. Don't wait up for me." And with that she was gone.

"Goddammit!" I swore, standing alone in the living room with my fists clenched in helpless anger. This kind of disrespect had grown increasingly frequent of late, and I didn't know how much longer I could take it. I loved Helen, but our relationship seemed to have been in a downward spiral for a long time now.

What happened to us? I wondered. How did it get so bad?

We'd been crazy in love when we got married after graduation, and Helen had been so supportive when I went to business school for my MBA. By taking a secretarial job to support us, she enabled me to get my degree in eighteen months. It hadn't been easy on her, and I'd always be grateful for her sacrifice.

Then, while I was trying to line up a job, my father had died, leaving his business to my brother Billy and me. Preferred Precision Moldings made custom plastic parts for industrial use. The business had been in a slow decline for a while, but Billy and I thought we could make something out of it. Billy took over running operations and I handle sales and general management. It's a specialty business built on relationships and performance. Slowly Billy and I began rebuilding our reputation as a quality supplier.

She never said anything, but I know Helen was disappointed I didn't wind up in the executive suite of a Fortune 500 company in a major city. Nevertheless, she endured my long hours and meager paychecks without complaint. However, when she got the opportunity to move into advertising, she jumped at it, and almost immediately showed an aptitude for the work.

At first that had been a boost for us: her growing paycheck really helped our financial situation, and her growing self-confidence boosted her attitude. Over time, however, things between us seemed to cool. She spent more and more time with her new work associates, especially Nancy, a divorcee I thought was a bad influence. But my concerns were of little or no importance to Helen, as tonight's confrontation showed.

Well the hell with her, I thought. I'll be damned if I'm going to sit around home waiting for her to come prancing in who know when.

With that I gave my little brother a call. "Hey, Billy, are you doing anything tonight? Okay, well how about meeting me at Louie's tonight. Helen's gone out again and I'd like some company."

Louie's was nearby, and I liked to go there because it wasn't too noisy and they play jazz in the background. They also made good burgers to go with the booze.

Billy was waiting for me when I walked in, and he already had a beer waiting for me. "From the sound of your voice," he grinned at me, "I figured you could use one. What's your bride done this time to get you so upset?"

I still thought of Billy as my little brother because he was two years younger than me. But he'd grown up to be every bit as tall as me. When we were growing up I used to win our wrestling matches every time, but I doubt I could do it today. Now he was my wing man and my confidante.

I took a big gulp from the mug in front of me and then looked at him. "What makes you think Helen's done something to upset me?"

He shook his head knowingly. "It's always Helen lately. I don't know what's going on with you two, but that woman is definitely getting under your skin big time."

"Is it that obvious?"

When he didn't answer, I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. "Everything was fine until she went to work for the Browder Agency. She was excited about the opportunity, and things were really good between us for a while. But the more time she spent in that world and with those people, the worse things have become at home. It's like she doesn't have any respect for me anymore. Nothing I do is good enough for her, and she takes every opportunity to get away from me. Frankly, I'm starting to wonder why I married her."

He leered at me and cupped both hands over his chest. "I know exactly why you married her, Bro."

I shook my head in disgust. "You always were a horn-dog. Anyway, I'm not getting a lot of action in that area either these days. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Billy turned and signaled to the waitress for another round. After she brought it, he leaned toward me and asked in a low voice, "Do you think Helen's running around on you?"

I took another big swig and my face curled into a scowl. "That's exactly what I'm thinking. The only thing is I can't figure out if she's having an affair or just picking up random guys when she's out with that slut Nancy."

I could feel my anger building, and I took another swallow to try to cool down. "Looking back, things between us started going sour after she took that new job. Now she's always working late or going into the office on weekends. That makes me wonder if she's having an affair with somebody at work. But she also keeps going out with Nancy, and she won't tell me where they are or when they'll be home. Last weekend she didn't get back till after I'd gone to bed, but she insisted on getting a shower when she got home. She said she wanted to get the smell of cigarette smoke off her, but that sounded like an excuse to me."

Billy looked at me carefully. "Are you two headed for divorce?"

I slammed my hand down on the table hard enough to make the beer mugs jump. "Dammit, that's what's really getting to me! The disrespect is bad enough; I couldn't tolerate her cheating on me. But if I divorce her, we'll have to split all our assets, and she'll wind up with half my share of the business."

"Damn, Mickey, that really sucks, especially now that things are starting to pick up. The order you landed last week could really pay off for us big time."

"I know, Bro, and the idea of her walking away with a big chunk of everything we've been working and slaving for really chaps my ass!"

By now I was in full rant mode, and as the evening wore on, I lost count of how many beers I had. It didn't seem like it was that many, but I never got around to having anything to eat. At some point I vaguely remember Billy helping me out to my car and driving me home. He half carried me to the bedroom and dumped me on the bed. I kicked off my shoes and that was the last thing I remembered.

It was almost noon on Saturday when I finally woke. Oh, God, my head hurt so bad, and there was a bitter taste in mouth. I struggled to the bathroom, filled a glass with water and took a handful of aspirin. Then I hurried to the kitchen to make myself some breakfast before all that acid burned a hole in my stomach.

After I finished eating I called my brother. When he heard my voice, Billy laughed. "I was wondering if you were up yet. Man, you really tied one on last night."

"Yeah, well, thanks for getting me home safely last night. I hope I didn't do anything crazy. How much did I drink, anyway? I don't ever remember blacking out like that, even in college."

He laughed again. "It's all part of the service. Just remember that you owe me." Then his voice changed tone. "So what did Helen say when you finally got up?"

I sat up straight. "Damn, Billy, I haven't seen her. She sure wasn't in bed when I woke up." I got up from the table and began to walk through the house while I talked to him, just to make sure. "I don't think she came home last night. She's definitely not here now, and her car's still parked in the garage. That bitch must have stayed out all night. Goddamit, I am not going to tolerate this kind of disrespect!"

"Whoa, hold on, big brother. She could have a good explanation. Come to think of it, she probably spent the night at Nancy's place. Why don't you give a call over there?"

"No, she's got a phone - let her call me. I'm tired of having to track down my own wife."

"I know where you're coming from, Bro, but don't make any decisions until you two have had a chance to talk it out."

"I hear you, but to be honest I hope she doesn't show up any time soon because I'm so mad at her right now I don't know what I'd do. Anyway, thanks again for last night. Now, let me go do some yardwork. Maybe that will cool me off some."

After I hung up, I changed into my work jeans and headed out to the garage to get the lawnmower. When I sat down to pull on my work boots, I was surprised to find them covered in mud. Where the hell did that come from? I wondered. I'm usually pretty scrupulous about cleaning up after myself.

I like mowing the yard because it gives me an opportunity to think without a lot of distractions. But this time, I couldn't stop think about Helen and how angry I was at the way she'd been acting. This isn't just disrespect, it's downright contempt. I really don't care whether she's having an affair or not - I'm not going to stand for this kind of treatment from her. I finished up the yard and checked my phone just to make sure she hadn't called and I'd missed it. No missed calls, no text messages.

I watched a baseball game on television, then went to the kitchen and fixed myself some dinner out of leftovers. After that it was back to the tv to watch a movie I'd already seen once. Good guys fighting zombies: lots of violence that suited my mood. The later it got, the madder I grew. Finally I switched off the tv and grabbed my phone. Alright, bitch, you win. I called her, but all I got was a message that the phone was not in service. She turned off her phone so I couldn't call her? Just unbelievable!

I got undressed and went to bed, but it took me forever to drop off to sleep.

In the morning, I woke up disoriented. My skin felt clammy and the sheets were damp. Even worse, my mood was dark and troubled. I felt as though I'd been dreaming all night, and the dreams were really disturbing. I couldn't remember many details, all I could knew was that I'd been intensely angry at Helen. No, not anger, what I felt was hatred. It was actually a little frightening to remember how strong my emotions were.

Even after I'd had coffee and breakfast, I couldn't shake the terrible memory of those dreams, and I started to feel guilty. I tried calling Helen again, but got the same out-of-service message. Swallowing my distaste, I called Nancy.

It was pretty obvious that I'd awakened her because it took a few seconds for her to realize who I was. "Nancy, is Helen there with you?"

"No, she's not."

"Was she with you yesterday?"

"No, I thought she went home. Is she not there?"

"Nancy, this is important: when was the last time you saw Helen."

"It was Friday night. We were out dancing at Singles and Doubles."

I rolled my eyes at that. Singles and Doubles was a real meat market. "What time did you leave?"

There was a pause. "Um, well, I left sometime after midnight."

"Did Helen leave with you?"

A longer pause. "Actually, I sort of met a guy I was interested in, but Helen was having a good time and wanted to stay. She told me she'd call an Uber when she was ready, so I left with the guy."

"So you haven't seen or heard from her since?"

"No I haven't. Listen, you're starting to scare me, Mickey. You really haven't heard from her all weekend?"

"Nancy, I don't have time to talk now, I need to try to find my wife."

I hung up and cursed, then called Billy and told him what Nancy had said.

"Bro, that doesn't sound good. I think you ought to call the police and report her missing."

"Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. I'll let you know what they have to say."

That proved to be a total waste of time. When I called police headquarters, the first thing the officer asked was when I'd last seen Helen. When I told him Friday night, he cut me short. "Listen, buddy, you can't even file a missing person's report until she's been gone three days."

"Dammit, officer, I haven't seen or heard from her all weekend, and neither has her best friend. I'm afraid something may have happened to her."

"Look," he said, "don't worry too much. I've seen the same thing dozens of times. The odds are you'll hear from her soon and everything will be okay. Just give it a little more time."

I hung up. Maybe he was right, but I wasn't reassured. This just wasn't like her. What if she's been in an accident? But if she was, the doctors would call me, wouldn't they? Still, I figured it wouldn't hurt, so I called the local hospitals. Helen wasn't checked in at any of them, and they didn't have any unknown female patients. Another dead end.

I went out and picked up some food for myself, then hurried home to eat it in case Helen showed up. While I waited, I tried to distract myself by watching tv again, but I couldn't concentrate. Finally I gave up and went to bed.

In some ways, Sunday night was worse than Saturday. Again I found myself sleeping restlessly. What's worse, this time I kept having the same dream. I was lost, trudging through a dark forest, weighted down by a heavy burden. I wasn't angry; instead all I felt was hopelessness and despair.

The last time I woke up it was still dark outside, but I got up anyway because I couldn't bear feeling so depressed. It took me eating breakfast and drinking several cups of coffee before I started to shake off the sense of foreboding.

At 7:30 a.m. I called Billy. "Listen, I'm going to be late this morning. I still haven't seen or heard from Helen. I'm going to check with her office when it opens, just in case she shows up there. If she doesn't, I'm going to police headquarters and demand to see someone."

"Okay, I'll hold down the fort here. Good luck, Bro, and keep the faith."

A half-hour later I called the Browder Agency and got Frankie, Helen's personal assistant.

When I first heard about Frankie, I got a little jealous at the idea of Helen having a male PA. Helen just laughed at me and told me I was being sexist. It wasn't until I met Frankie at a company event that I got Helen's joke. "Frankie" was short for Francesca. And like her nickname, Frankie was one of the least feminine women I'd ever seen. She wasn't overweight, but she was tall and blocky with an extremely mannish figure. Truthfully, she looked like she could play linebacker on some college teams. She was also strong. The first time I shook hands with her, she gave me a manly grip that startled me with its strength.

The other thing I discovered about Frankie was she was absolutely devoted to Helen. After seeing the two of them together a few times, I decided Frankie was probably gay and had a crush on my wife. I asked Helen about it once, and she just laughed. "Of course she's a lesbian, but it doesn't bother me. Actually, it makes her perfect for my PA - she'd do anything for me. She's more like a servant than an employee."

Hearing Frankie's contralto voice on the phone broke my reverie. "Hi, Frankie, it's Mickey Duncan. Is Helen in the office yet?"

"Hello, Mr. Duncan, it's good to hear your voice. No, your wife hasn't gotten in yet. Shall I have her call you when she arrives?"

"Yes, please have her call first thing."

Something in my voice must have sounded off to Frankie. "Is everything okay, Mr. Duncan?"

To my dismay, I found myself telling Frankie everything, how we'd argued when she went out on Friday and how I hadn't seen or heard anything from her all weekend.

Frankie listened quietly until I'd finished. When she finally spoke, her voice was hushed and her tone was troubled. "I'm so sorry to hear that." Her voice dropped even lower. "I can't talk about this now, but there are things going on around here that aren't right. If I were you, I'd go see Mr. Browder and find out what's going on with Helen." Suddenly her voice resumed its normal tone and volume. "Yes sir, that's right. Mr. Browder will be in the office later this morning. Goodbye now."

I sat there holding the dead phone and feeling my blood pressure rising.

I hadn't liked Darren Browder from the first time I met him. He was one of those slick, good-looking guys who always seemed too full of himself. He never missed an opportunity to brag on his advertising agency or himself, nor was he shy about denigrating anyone else in the process. Maybe those characteristics made him a good ad man, but as far as I was concerned they made him an insecure, unattractive human being.

So, what had Frankie been hinting at when she said I ought to direct my questions to Dandy Darren? I had a sneaking suspicion I knew, and I meant to confront him as soon as possible. But first I needed to get to police headquarters.

The sergeant at the front desk wasn't very helpful, but I guess I made enough of a fuss that eventually a woman came out to see me. "I'm Detective Nora Marshall," she introduced herself after the sergeant explained my problem. She looked young and inexperienced to my eyes, but at least she was willing to listen, so I followed her back to her desk.

I went through my story again, but she didn't seem particularly responsive. When I gave her a picture of Helen, she leaned back in her chair and covered her mouth to yawn. That was the last straw for me.

"Look, if you were out partying too hard over the weekend, how about letting me talk to someone who gives a damn?"

She rocked forward and her eyes flashed. "If you think I don't care, Mr. Duncan, you're badly mistaken. I wouldn't have taken this job if I didn't care deeply. And for your information, the reason I was yawning is I was on duty the whole weekend, and I spent most of last night trying to track down a mentally ill young woman who wandered away from her group home. So back off and tell me again why you think your wife isn't just another runaway spouse who's wasting police time."

I felt like crap after that, but I straightened up and tried to explain why I was so concerned about Helen's disappearance. "She's gone out with her girlfriend before, but she doesn't stay out all night, and she's never been gone for a whole weekend."

"How often does she go out without you?"