“Carter, Carter.” I peeked up from my phone and twisted my head side to side. Sweat permeated my palms. Shallow breaths escaped my mouth while I gripped my chest and spun my head around again. Frost frothed from my mouth and lips crackled. My bermiese scarf was tucked over my neck.

I wondered around the playground as if through a maze. Children giggled while going forward and backwards on the swing. They jeered while giving chase to one another.

“Na, na, a boo boo, you can’t catch me.”

“Stop that’s not fair,” the other girl said. “You’re too fast.”

One little boy tossed sand in the sandbox. I dodged another set of kids at the jungle gym. Such a blur covered my retinas as the clouds ahead grumbled.

Why can’t I stay off my phone? I thought to myself. Why must I always focus on work?

“Carter?” I slurred and checked behind several prickly bushes. “Carter…” I whimpered. “Where are you?”

A woman stood up from the park bench with a newborn strapped to her chest and shook as I tapped her back and said, “Have you seen Carter, my son, he had on a blue hoodie, black skully, and blue jeans. Black kid, kinda buck teeth and glasses, have you seen him?” My breaths sped up and my heart beat raced worse than when I lost the rent money at the derby. “He looks like this.” I shoved a crumbled up photo of him into her face, “Have you seen him?”

“No,” she shook her head and her baby wailed for a bottle, “I’m sorry I haven’t seen him around but I hope you find him.” She scuttled away with her stroller.

I swayed back and forth. My feet floated with the wind that swirled back and forth. Children were leaving as the clouds tumbled again and small pitter patter of rain tacked on my jacket. Each frigid piece akin to snow polyps.

“Excuse me, sir. If you only had one moment, have you seen my son? Black kid, black skully, blue j…eans.” I barely could even utter the last word. “His name is Carter.”

“Haven’t seen him today, sorry man.” The man patted my shoulder, “Good luck finding him.”

“Carter! Please.” I should’ve bought him a phone. I was always against kids having technology but even just one text, one call could make a difference right now.

I had to make that sudden phone call to Kate.

“Kate,” Tears swelled in my eyes as the downpour drenched my entire body.

“Are you drunk again?” Kate asked, “Jesus Christ, Terry. Carter has been missing for four years now so stop calling my phone when you’re drunk and end up at the playground. The next time you call me, I’m putting a restraining order on you, I already gave you a number to the therapist. Use it because, I can’t be there for you anymore.”

That can’t be right. That can’t be right. That can’t be right.

I sat on the bench, sun bright in the sky, with a large bottle of Jack in my hand and kids were chasing each other playing good ole tag.

I wasn’t drunk.