After my initial briefing, I only saw Gord once a week for Monday updates. During those one-hour sessions, I’d watch him, nails digging into my palms, until the face of the man who ruined my fifteen-year-old sister, became a blur. Indistinguishable from the objects around it. And while he rattled off a series of instructions, relayed information about future plans, then listed the week’s tasks, I’d study the crêpey skin under his eyes and hate him with a passion that would have seared the skin from his bones.
Afterwards I’d go back to my office to settle down. I’d gaze around the blue room with its simple, white furniture and sweeping view of the park and try to become someone else. A busy, focused person. Not someone with revenge eating away at her insides.
When I wasn’t thinking about Gord and how I’d make him pay with every fiber of his being for what he’d done to Birdie, I worried about what would happen to Guy.
He met me from work most evenings and took me out for supper or to the theater or a concert. We sat over drinks, holding hands across the table and talked about his homeless outreach project. His plan was to bring me in on the front lines when Gord’s project was over. I gazed at his honest, open face as he talked about our future. Together. A team. And it tore me up inside to know this would likely never happen. Not after what I was about to do. I loathed myself in those moments. Hated that I was lying to him every minute of every day.
But still I listened. Smiled. Nodded. For Birdie.
“You’re great with those kids, Anna. We could work together on something really meaningful. Something that makes a difference. Then I’d cut down my time with Dad’s company. Make a break.”
He’d already envisioned a future that didn’t include Gord. A battle raged inside me. I could tell him. Maybe he’d understand. Maybe we could both be free. But who was I kidding? Gord was his father. And he’d never desert Nancy. He couldn’t turn his back on family.
When things got really bad the nights Guy was at work, I’d miss him so much I’d slip into his closet and press my face against his clothes, searching for his scent on shirts and sweaters. Another time I did a load of laundry and tried to arrange his socks in his drawer just the way he liked, but I was left with three odd ones. I undid all the neat pairs, and threw them in a pile on the floor to sort through them again. I made a long row of socks stretching from the drawers to the bedroom door. Then I placed each one with its matching partner, but still three different odd socks remained. Panicking, I tried again and again until I sat back against the bed, beaten and utterly exhausted. I didn’t even hear Guy come in. He found me clutching a huge ball of socks to my chest and sobbing my heart out.
“What’s wrong?” he said, squatting on the floor beside me. “Anna – talk to me.”
For a moment I thought of telling him everything. I could just unload the whole messy story. Share the burden with someone who cared for me. It could be that easy. I opened my mouth to speak but my jaw was paralyzed. All my resolve simply drained away. The moment passed. I shook my head.
He sat down and put his arms around me, held me for a long moment, then loosened the silly clump of socks from my grip. “I know something’s been bothering you, Anna, and I don’t want to pressure you to tell me. I told you I’d wait until you were ready. Didn’t I?”
I looked up at him and nodded.
“And I’m not mad about the socks,” he said, smiling. “But I’ll tell you a little secret about them.”
He shifted around until I was lying against his chest, calmed by its steady rise and fall. “When I was a kid and things got really bad at school or when Mom and Dad were fighting, I’d empty out all my drawers and arrange everything – underwear, socks, T-shirts, sweaters – in perfect rows. If something was even a fraction out of place I’d start over again. I’d soothe myself into a trance state where the only thing that existed were those stupid pieces of clothing and their uniformity. It was something in my life that I could totally control. I guess it sounds weird for a kid to obsess about something like that.”
I turned to look at him. “Did your parents ever find out?”
He shook his head. “I was a quiet kid and Dad monopolized Mom’s time with work stuff in the evenings. So I was left to my own devices a lot.”
“You were a lonely kid?”
“It was good for my grades. Paid off in the end. I mightn’t have been a prof otherwise.”
I took his face into my hands and kissed him hard on the mouth, then pulled away. His eyes were wide. Liquid. “Can I ask you something, Guy?”
He perked up instantly. “Anything. Fire away.”
My heart lurched. This was the moment. I held my hand against his cheek and took a deep breath. “Do you love your father?”
He turned away from me, then pulled himself up. “I’m not sure I want to talk about that right now,” he said, throwing the socks onto the bed. “Think I need a drink.”
I sat there. Alone. Confused. More conflicted than before.
Things came to a head one Monday in the fall when I left work. A young man in a dark coat was waiting outside the door, leaning against a streetlight.
“Anna,” he called to me.
It was Dane. He still sported traces of the goth look but the long, black overcoat was gone, replaced by the greenish parka and backpack of a student. I rushed over to hug him.
“Great to see you,” I said, stepping back to take a good look at the transformation. He swept the hair back from his face and smiled self-consciously. “Are you taking classes round here?”
“I’m at the College of Art and Design,” he said, a grin twitching at the corner of his lips.
I held onto his arm. “That’s incredible. I’m proud of you.”
He stared down at the sidewalk, grinding his toe into the concrete. “It’s pretty good there. I like it.”
“Everything’s okay?”
He nodded. “Great. My mom’s all crazy about it. She packs me lunch every day.”
He chewed on his lower lip.
“Something’s up, Dane,” I said. “Spit it out.”
He looked at me, his eyes wide and vulnerable under the caked-on eyeliner. “Carla’s gone. Left her auntie’s house. Nobody knows where she is.”
“But she loved it there. She was more settled than she’d ever been.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “Everything was going okay, then she made a big mistake. Came up to the city for the weekend. Didn’t get back to her auntie’s place afterwards. That was last week.”
Suddenly the noise of the traffic was a din in my head. The stink of car exhaust made me sick. “You asked around?”
He nodded. “Nobody knows anything. As usual.”
“You go to see Robin?”
He nodded. “Says he’s gonna look into it.”
I reached out and touched his arm. “I know he will. He really liked Carla. Had high hopes for her since she turned her life around. I’ll call him too. But come back here in the next few days and let me know if you hear anything from her.”
I gave him my number then watched him go, his shoulders hunched. That’s when I knew the past would never leave Carla alone. And now she was going the same way as Birdie. It had to be stopped and that meant sacrificing everything I had for the sake of my lost sister. After all, I could never forget what was in the package Tara gave me on that frigid night in Duluth.