The Disappearance of Charlie Johnson

Word count: 1,500 Estimated read time: 10 minutes


“This is Mike Carter, KTAL Radio, Bakersfield. And have I got a story for you. Apparently, eighty-six year old Charlie Johnson disappeared from his Bakersfield home nearly four years ago. And he wasn’t seen again until a couple of weeks ago when a neighbor spotted him at the local McDonald’s.

“You’ve been Charlie’s neighbor for how long?” Mike asked his guest.

“I reckon it’s been fifteen, twenty years,” the neighbor answered.

“And you didn’t think it was odd that you hadn’t seen him in a while?”

“Not really,” the neighbor replied. “At first, we just figured he was on vacation. As time went by and we still hadn’t seen him, we figured he must have moved or died or something.”

“You didn’t notice his mailbox getting full?”

“Nope. He’s got one of them fancy letter slots that goes right into the house.”

“So nobody ever reported him missing?” the broadcaster asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Incredible.”

“Yep.”

“So,” Mike continued, “you must have been surprised to see him walk into the McDonald’s after all this time?”

“We were all surprised,” the neighbor exclaimed.

“Did you ask him where he had been?” Mike inquired.

“He told us he’d been working down at the hardware store.”

“Amazing.”

“So,” Mike continued, “you must have been surprised to see him walk into the McDonald’s after all this time?”

“We were all surprised,” the neighbor exclaimed.

“Did you ask him where he had been?” Mike inquired.

“He told us he’d been working down at the hardware store.”

“Amazing.”

“Yep.”

“Well,” Mike said, “thanks for coming down and talking to us.”

“You bet.”

“And now,” Mike said excitedly, “we’re going to talk to Charlie Johnson himself. Come on in here Charlie and say hello to the listeners.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said in a gruff voice.

“So, what’s the story, Charlie?” Mike asked.

“Huh?” Charlie sounded confused.

“What happened to you?”

“What happened to me when?”

“You’ve been gone a long time,” Mike reminded him.

“Oh, that,” Charlie said plainly.

Mike patiently waited while Charlie formed his thoughts. “Well,” he began slowly, “the other day, I was sittin’ in my car, gettin’ ready to head down to the bank. I was running a little low on cash and I wanted to meet the boys over at McDonald’s for coffee. Now, there was this program on the radio. I don’t remember which one, but it sure was a good one. Now, I don’t like drivin’ with the radio on, so I waited for it to finish up. Well, I musta fallen asleep, ‘cause when I woke up, the program was over, and there was another one on.

“I reached over and turned the knob, but the radio didn’t turn off. I tried turning it a couple more times before I realized I musta left the radio on in the house. So I got out of the car to go inside and turn off the radio. When I got to the front door, I realized I hadn’t locked it, which was a good thing,” Charlie said, laughing, “’cause I’d left the keys in the car.

“Well, I didn’t want to have to walk all the way back down to the car to get the keys, so I figured I’d just lock the front door from the inside and go out the back door. So that’s what I did. Next thing I knew, I was standing at a gas station. Now, I don’t know how the heck I got there ‘cause I didn’t have my car. I looked around, but nothing was familiar. So I asked this man if he knew where Market Street was?”

“Market Street?” Mike interrupted. “You don’t live on Market Street.”

“I know that,” Charlie said confidently, “but I figured if I could find it, I could get home. It’s only one block over. But the man said he’d never heard of a Market Street. So I explained to him how I was tryin’ to get to the bank to get some money. He told me there was one of them ATM machines just around the corner. I told him I didn’t like them new fangled things. He offered to show me how to operate it when I realized my wallet was still in the car. And I didn’t have my car.

“So that’s when I decided I could get home on my own, and I started walking. I musta walked a hundred miles, ‘cause the damnedest thing happened. I was gettin’ real tired, when I saw I was in my old neighborhood. Things looked a little different, but I knew that’s where I was, ‘cause I saw Ma workin’ in her garden.”

“Where does your mother live?” the broadcaster asked suspiciously.

“In Idaho,” Charlie said. “I couldn’t believe it. I’d walked all the way to Idaho. I guess I still got it in me.”

“I guess you do,” Mike said, chuckling.

“So I said, ‘Hi, Ma,’ and she gave me a big hug. I’ll tell you, it’s been a long time since I got a hug from my Ma. It sure felt good. Well, we got to talkin’ and she invited me in for dinner. Now I know I had a project to complete, but I didn’t want to insult her by sayin’ no, so I said yes. Besides, my ma is the best cook ever and I sure didn’t think it would do me any harm to enjoy one of her home-cooked meals.

“We had chicken and dumplings, sweet-potato pie, and fresh-baked bread. Man was it good. We talked for hours, and we laughed until our sides hurt. I almost wet my pants when she told the one about the time I came in all muddy from playin’ with the pigs. She said I stank to high heavens, and she had to drag me kickin’ and screamin’ to the wash tub. God, how I hated takin’ baths.

“Well, we talked until all hours of the mornin’. I must have fallen asleep, ‘cause the next thing I knew, the sun was up. I told her I’d better be on my way, but she said she could sure use my help. Well, I couldn’t just leave her, what with no man around the house, so I agreed to stay awhile. I fixed up the holes on the front porch, and I built her a new bench for her flowers, and I took the creak out of her rocking chair. I kept pretty darn busy.

“My sister Suzy dropped by to visit us every so often. She’s a nurse now, ya know? She’d sit down at the table in her pretty white uniform and listen to me and Ma talk about the old days. Then she’d remind Ma it was time for a bath. I always went outside then so that Ma could have her privacy. While Ma was in the bath, Suzy would clean up the house a bit.

“Now sometimes I wondered if Suzy wasn’t just a little bit slow in the head. She kept askin’ Ma who I was. And when I told the one about the time she and I got caught stealin’ apples out of the neighbor’s yard, she pretended like she remembered, but I don’t think she did.”

“Four years is a long time to be gone,” Mike interrupted.

“Yep,” Charlie agreed. “While Ma worked in her garden, I fixed things up around the place. Come sundown, every night, she’d call me in for dinner. ‘George,’ she’d say. I don’t know why she called me George, but I got to kinda likin’ it. Anyway, she’d say, ‘George, your supper’s ready.’ So I’d wipe the mud off my boots and come in the house. ‘Clean up those hands,’ she’d say. She said that every night. Sometimes I wondered if she’d ever get tired of sayin’ it.

“After dinner, we’d sit in the living room and talk. She’d rock in her chair and I’d relax in the lazy-boy. Man was that a comfortable chair. Sometimes, when Suzy came over, she’d find us a good program on the radio. Ma and I would listen while Suzy washed the dishes.

“When the program was over, Ma would always ask Suzy to turn off the radio. After she turned it off, Suzy would say to Ma, ‘It’s time for bed, Mrs. Whitman.’ Now I don’t know why Suzy kept callin’ her own Ma, Mrs. Whitman. Especially, when that’s not her name. But, like I said before, I think Suzy may be a little wrong in her head.”

“So what made you decide to leave?” the broadcaster interrupted.

“Leave?” Charlie was confused.

“How did you end up at McDonald’s?”

“Well,” Charlie explained, “one day I got out of bed and I knew I was a man. I said, ‘Ma, it’s time for me to make my mark on the world. I’m gonna go out and get me a job.’ She said that was a fine idea, so I put my trousers on and I went down to the local hardware store. The man there gave me a job loading two-by-fours on a truck. When I was done, he paid me ten bucks for the work and I headed back home to Ma’s. I was halfway home when I found myself standin’ in front of McDonald’s. Heck, I thought, I’ll just drop by and have me a cup of coffee with the boys.”

“Is that when your neighbor saw you?”

“It must have been,” Charlie speculated.

“Amazing.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Charlie said.

“You heard it here, folks,” the broadcaster announced, “and now, a word from our sponsors.”

“Would you turn that off, dear?” the old woman said, pointing to the radio.

“Yes, Mrs. Whitman,” the younger woman replied. She walked across the room and turned the radio off.

The old woman rocked slowly in her chair. “I sure miss George,” she said.


Note: The inspiration for this story (written in 1998) came from my partner’s father who had Alzheimer’s disease. I tried to imagine the world from his perspective. Would his quality of life be improved if he encountered someone who easily accepted, and even joined in, his current “reality?” And, if this occurred, would there be any harm in it?