The atmosphere should have been festive.

After all, it was a small town in New England, USA on July 4. That calendar date had a special significance for most Americans, and the people of Wildebush were no exception. Every year on this day, the residents would celebrate by viewing a parade, holding barbecues with endless hot dogs and hamburgers, and washing them all down with a display of fireworks.

That’s what Isabel Tendai wished she was doing. Any other year, the Fourth of July would have been a cause for celebration. But not today.

It had all started last night, when Matty had been fighting a summer cold. Although Isabel’s younger son was sixteen now, too old to be coddled (his words, not hers), Mrs. Tendai had wanted to check in on him in the middle of the night to make sure he was okay.

Imagine her shock when she found that Matty’s bed was empty.

Maybe he’s still in the house, she thought to herself. He could have just gone to the bathroom or something.

But the door to the bathroom was open, signaling that there was nobody inside that room either. And that’s when the first inklings of panic made themselves known within Isabel’s body.

So she went to Owen’s bedroom. Maybe Matty had elected to sneak into his elder brother’s room overnight, though that would have been very much out of character. Then again, when you’re sick, you need all the comfort you can get.

When Owen’s bed was also empty, Isabel let out a scream.

“Kevin! Come here!”

Her husband and fellow parent came lumbering into the hallway. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“The boys! They’re gone!” she all but wailed.

Kevin’s black pupils dilated to the size of quarters. “We need to call the police!”

The conversation with the police was a blur to Isabel. She was vaguely aware that she might be considered a suspect - of course, the police would be unlikely to charge her without evidence that was anything other than circumstantial. But it couldn’t be ruled out, so she was as careful as possible during this session of questioning.

Neither her nor Kevin slept at all for the rest of the night. Isabel didn’t even try - she paced the kitchen all night, hoping against hope that she’d get a call from the police telling her about a possible lead they’d found.

And there’s hardly any crime in Wildebush, too. In fact, almost nothing happens here. So I’m probably going to become infamous - the Wildebush Family Case is what’ll be written in my obituary.

It was difficult not to catastrophize when you were up at this ungodly hour, that’s for sure.

Every few minutes, Isabel swung by her sons’ bedrooms just to check to see if maybe they’d been playing video games in the basement. Every time, she was “rewarded” with nothing but emptiness.

The sun finally turned the summer sky gold, and Isabel had bags under her eyes. She wobbled with every step, and she was sweating profusely from the exertion during a heat wave. But she would not give up.

Eventually a call came from one of the detectives - Officer Gloria was her name. And Isabel’s heart leaped at the thought that the case might have been solved before it even began.

“Is this Isabel Tendai?” Officer Gloria enquired.

“Uh, yes,” Isabel replied. “What’s going on? Did you find my sons yet?”

“No, ma’am” the detective responded, and Isabel’s heart sank like a stone. She’d gotten her hopes up for nothing.

“Then why did you call me?” Mrs. Tendai snapped. “I’m being dead serious right now. If you have no news to share, why even share it?”

“Our entire force is going to be at the parade today,” Officer Gloria said. “If you want to talk to us, come to the parade.”

The parade was just about the last place Isabel wanted to be. All those loud streamers and cymbals, garish displays of Americana, costumed performers throwing brightly colored candy to the kids…yes, she understood why Independence Day was celebrated, but she wasn’t at all in the mood to take part.

Nonetheless, Isabel reminded herself that she’d do anything for her boys, so eleven o’clock found her standing outside the elementary school the boys had once attended, covering her ears to distract from the jubilation much of the crowd was experiencing.

Could anything have been more offensive than this blazing sun, scantily-clad women atop their parade floats, and the sirens of emergency vehicles manned by America’s finest? And could any song have been more inappropriate right now than “Independence Day” by Martina McBride?

I need to find the police, Isabel told herself. That’s the reason I’m enduring this, after all.

Not to mention that as a child, Owen had always despised the parade. He’d covered his ears for much of it, a habit for which Isabel didn’t blame her son one bit - even neurotypicals found it uncomfortably loud. Besides, for a small town, Wildebush’s Fourth of July was more than a little excessive in her opinion.

So Mrs. Tendai navigated her way through the crowd, stepping around the children with squirt guns and water balloons, the parents trying their damnedest to keep their kids in check…you get the idea. All of them were having much more fun than Isabel would for the foreseeable future.

Or maybe ever…

“I hope they don’t see me as a crisis actor” she muttered as she bumped right into Officer Gloria.

“Why would we think you are?” the detective replied curtly. “We’re not the type to spread conspiracy theories.”

“I never said you’d do that” Isabel clarified. “It’s just that some people will.”

At the word some, Isabel gestured toward a cohort of reporters carrying microphones. Some of them seemed to be from the local branch of Fox News, that endless spider web of falsehoods that just couldn’t be tamed.

“Well, why don’t you talk to them?” Officer Gloria asked Isabel. “They’ll be willing to give the case attention, I’m sure.”

Isabel raised an eyebrow. “Why would I want attention? Fuck the media circus - I just want my family back!”

“In the vast majority of cases,” the detective responded, “the missing people are found within forty-eight hours. So the odds are good that your sons will be back in your arms soon.”

“I don’t want good odds, though,” Isabel muttered. “I want assurances.”

“Assurances aren’t something we can guarantee, Isabel. Our job is to help solve your case, not bullshit you about the odds of finding your sons.”

On some level, Isabel knew that it was her motherly instinct kicking in. She had to keep believing that her sons would be safe no matter what, even if the evidence increasingly pointed to doubting this premise.

Officer Gloria frowned. “Well, if you want to find them sooner, you might as well talk to Fox News over there.”

Only a matter of hours ago, Isabel had reminded herself that she’d do anything for her sons. If she were to hold herself to this standard, she had to speak to the media, no matter how objectionable she might have found them.

“I’ll do that” Isabel said curtly. “Just keep looking for leads, okay?”

“We never stop,” Officer Gloria told Mrs. Tendai. “If we took breaks, we’d solve a lot fewer missing-person cases than we do.”

“But do you have any more information than you did a few hours ago?”

Sorry to annoy you…actually, no, I’m not sorry. They’re my SONS!

The detective gave Isabel a look of utmost shame, and that was all the answer Isabel needed.

“Right” Mrs. Tendai muttered. “I’ll go over to the press now.”

Walking over to the Fox News personnel felt like throwing away a favored heirloom. It violated every political principle Isabel held dear. But she had to do it.

“Hey, can I talk to you guys?” Isabel asked tepidly.

One of the reporters, a bespectacled man, frowned at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m Isabel Tendai,” she replied breathlessly. “I’m here for…well, I guess we could call it an interview.”

“Why are we going to interview you?” the reporter enquired. “What purpose would we have, rather than covering the President’s numerous gaffes?”

Isabel rolled her eyes. Even in a time of crisis, Fox News was more concerned with making the President look bad, simply because he came from the other political party. But that was hardly important - she would do whatever it took.

“Because my sons went missing last night” Mrs. Tendai muttered. “I would think you’d want to cover that story just because, you know…it’s important.”

The bespectacled reporter’s eyes lit up just like the night sky when it was punctuated by firework blasts. He grinned, and Mrs. Tendai had to remind herself that this was not a malicious grin - rather, it was because he couldn’t wait to cover such a juicy tale.

“Should we do an interview right here?” the reporter enquired. “My name’s Ryan Klein, and here I am with Fox News. This interview is being reported and may be broadcast on the network during tonight’s episode.”

“You didn’t ask my permission!” Isabel exclaimed.

“Mrs. Tendai,” Ryan responded, “I do not believe you’re in a position to argue with us about this.”

He was right, and she knew it. But that didn’t make it any easier to have her wishes ignored like that.

“Fair enough” Mrs. Tendai sighed. “So you’ll ask me some questions?”

“Yes” Ryan told her.

“But shouldn’t this be at a studio, or a police precinct? The police should be hosting this interview, not some wingnut news network.”

“Who are you calling a wingnut?”

“Never mind,” Isabel muttered. “In any case, my son, Matty - he’s sixteen - was feeling a bit off, so he went to bed early last night. And I went to check in on him, because, you know…that’s what mothers do.”

“What did you find upon entering Matty’s bedroom?”

Isabel sniffed, and suddenly the idea of answering honestly seemed very difficult. But she had an obligation here - if not to Ryan, then to Matty and Owen.

“I found that his bed was empty. Come to think of it, the bed was unmade, so it didn’t seem like he planned out his departure very carefully. Then again, I’m no expert on this.”

“Were there any signs of a struggle?” Ryan enquired.

“What would those be? I’m no expert on this!” Isabel protested.

“You know; maybe a bedside lamp had fallen over, or maybe the sheets were torn. You didn’t think to look for any of those?”

Isabel raised her hands in the air as though she were being arrested. “Ryan, I didn’t consider that! I am a grieving woman right now, so you should hold off on questions like that!”

“Fair enough” Ryan muttered, jotting something down on a notepad. Turning to the camera…wait, a camera?

He told me this interview was being broadcast, Isabel recalled bitterly. I bet he’ll spread a lot of conspiracy theories about me. Maybe I’m some crisis actor faking my sons’ disappearances to advance an agenda.

In reality, I could care less about any “agenda.” I just want my children back.

“So upon noticing that your children had vanished, who did you call first?”

At that moment, a line from the Ghostbusters theme song (you can probably guess which line) ran through Isabel’s head, barely interrupted by the chorus of “Independence Day” in the background. 

“I called the police,” Isabel muttered. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone you live with disappears without warning?”

“Perhaps it is,” Ryan admitted. “Is there anything you want the world to know about your case?”

As hesitant as Isabel was to give Fox News any ammunition to use against her, to sensationalize the disappearance as though real people with feelings weren’t involved, she knew as well that this was her best chance - possibly her only chance - to make the world care about what had happened to Owen and Matty. After all, for better or worse, modern life involved a 24-hour news cycle that could never be broken. 

If she didn’t make her case now, she’d be relying on detectives and Fox News to make it for her. And to do that would be to neglect her duties as a parent.

“I want the world to know,” Isabel replied breathlessly, “that no matter what other people think about this case - no matter how much they’ll speculate and generate conspiracy theories - there are real people involved here. We have thoughts, emotions, and desires. This isn’t just happening to me and Kevin - this is happening to my boys too, and I shudder to think of where they might be.

“And it’s not even just them. Hardly any crime occurs in Wildebush, so an event like this is sure to taint our reputation as a safe place to live. That’s what’s at stake here. So please…do all you can to return my boys to me safe and sound.”

With that, Isabel felt tears forming once more, and she knew the interview had to end soon. Otherwise, she’d just end up breaking down on national television, and if there’s one reputation nobody wants to have, it’s that as “the person who broke down on national television.”

Fortunately, Ryan relieved her quickly.

“That’s a wrap,” the reporter said. “Thank you for talking to us and giving us information about the case. If we need more of your commentary, we will contact you again.”

“Do I need to give you my phone number?” Isabel asked. The prospect of doing this was positively revolting, simply because she knew it would invite harassment from the media.

“That would be appreciated,” Ryan replied. “Of course, we have the yellow pages too, but we’d rather not have to use them.”

 “Right” Isabel mouthed. She told Ryan her phone number, writing it down on the notepad the reporter provided her.

“Thank you,” the reporter responded. “Like I said, we’ll contact you if we need any further scoops. Happy Fourth.”

Oh, right, she remembered. It’s Independence Day. 

Later, she’d probably go to one of her friend’s barbecues, that quintessential Fourth of July activity that, like so many other American traditions, looked for any excuse to overeat and celebrate anything at all. She’d try to make small talk with the neighbors, some of whom would gossip about others as though high school had never ended. And she would eat a burger or two in an effort to distract herself.

But it would taste like cardboard. Indeed, every bite of food that touched her tongue, every sip of her favorite drink that passed her lips, would come with strings attached - the tethers of guilt that bound her heart.

Because ultimately, she would not be able to enjoy anything until Owen and Matty returned home safely.