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The Grand Floridian, 1989.
Amidst the glitz and the glitter of a hotel room my family still pays far too much for on occasion, my grandmother sips her coffee with a Virginia Slim, my mom and aunts 1/2 threaten all of us to be ready in 5 minutes (or else). My bro plays Tetris on the Game Boy.
And that’s around the moment we all realize that my 6 year old cousin with autism is missing.
Kristen is not in the room. Kristen is not in the hallway. She’s not one floor up nor is she one floor down. She’s not in the bathroom or the closet. Kristen is poof, gone.
Kristen is one notch above non-verbal in 1989. She’s definitely not somewhere explaining to anybody that her family of kooks is on the 3rd floor in Big Pine Key currently screaming her name in deafening pitches because she’s lost somewhere on property.
Imagine drill sergeants...but in full blown hysterics.The ones you see on TV who show up like the gestapo in a teen prison hoping to spread forever fear...only they're crying unintelligibly in the face of anyone who answers their door on our floor.
To this day my ear canals haven't fully recovered from their high shrills bc panic is the vibe, man, and it’s not just your run of the mill panic, but the kind of panic where you-just-lost-a-kid-while-babysitting-panic...panic, and your heart is either going to
beat through your chest or stop dead.
My aunt screams go look, Sam! GO CHECK SAM! I CAN'T look, Sam! CHECK THE BALCONY SAM! (Mah nickname, folks)
Nana lights another Virginia Slim in between sobs.
I run and throw my head over the railing and Kristen did not plummet to the hot Florida pavement when our party of 6 blinked. Phew!
So, where was Kristen?
I scan the scene and the partition between our balcony and our neighbor’s balcony leaves about a foot of open space at the bottom. And this is why they do that, right? *connects all of the dots...
White knuckling their fists into the sky, with veins bulging from their vocal chords is how I was instructed To Find A Way Underneath It Right Now...So, my chubby, middle school ass did, folks...
I shimmy through, stand up and see the sliding glass door wide open. The screen is open too, and I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. I am so nervous.
My eyes finally adjust as my feet hit the neighbor’s carpet. The Florida sun is a killer in the morning.
I found Kristen.
She sits on the end of a queen bed, ponytailed & park ready, a blue ribbon drips from where her hair is tied, eyes LOCKED on Good Morning Mickey, her little feet dangling off the edge of the bed. She is unfazed by my presence.
On the other queen bed, a boy, around Kristen’s age wails and stares. At Kristen. Back at me, then back at Kristen, like the most confused little ping pong I ever did see. He looks far worse than anybody in our room. And our room looks BAD.
I walk briskly and scoop my cousin’s hand. She willingly accepts mine. We don't speak, and I don't let go until we see our way out the typical way, through the door...
I shut his door. I opened ours. And, I bring my cousin home.
I never saw that kid’s parents anywhere in the room that day. There was no time to chat because 30 minutes ago I only had 5 left (or else). I do think about him from time to time, and I hope he’s ok. I wonder if he ever thinks about Kristen and me? We’re ok, too. 
