You know you wish you were me Page 13

  “I don’t know.”

  “Really, you don’t know?”

  “Rock n roll singer?”

  “Oh my, that’s exciting,” Vivian hates that she sounds like such an old lady, desperate for this child’s approval, respect, who knows.

  What had Jay wanted to be when he was Evee’s age? A garbage man. That was it. She wasn’t very happy when he made that announcement. Dale, as usual, was more encouraging. She just remembers saying something like “garbage men are dirty and smelly and I won’t allow anyone who is dirty and smelly to live in this house.”

  She remembers the look on Jay’s face the night before as she yelled at him. He hasn’t changed at all since he was a little boy. She feels sad now, and guilty. She wishes, as she has often recently, that she could do things over again. She wishes she was a better person and didn’t fuck everything and everyone around her up as much as she had.

  Look at the situation you’re in now, she screamed in her head. Totally fucked up.

  Vivian stares past the girl toward the closed curtains. She is amazed that this could be true, that Jay could have pulled something like this off without getting caught. There has to be some sort of reason for thinks to have ended up this way. There must be some sort of point to it all.

  There is a knock at the door. Evee jumps in her seat. Vivian’s heart pounds loudly as she sits very still. Another knock. The sound reverberates through the hallway and bounces off all of the walls around them. Vivian feels dizzy, but grabs the side of the table with her left hand and raises her right and pushes her finger against her lips.

  “Shhhh.”

  There is a loud thump. Evee kicked the bottom of the table.

  “Shhhh,” Vivian says louder as she stares hard at the girl.

  Another thud as the table bounces.

  Vivian is up and over Evee in a second. She lifts the chair and pulls it far away from the table. She can hear Evee’s breaths. They are short and shallow. She puts her hand over Evee’s mouth. Evee stiffens under her grip and shakes her head. Vivian tightens her grip and put her mouth close to Evee’s ear.

  “You have to do everything I tell you to do. Everything.”

  She keeps her grip tight until she is sure there won’t be another knock.

  “Don’t move. Don’t move.”

  Vivian backs away from Evee, who is looking at her. There are red marks on the girl’s cheeks where her hands were.

  I’ve already gone too far. Vivian thinks. But it was necessary.

  Vivian walks backwards to the front door and looks out the peephole. A small group of people are at the end of her path, talking. Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  Evee is still staring at her when she turns around.

  “Just some people selling stuff.”

  She rings her hands together as she walks back to the table. She kneels down so her face is level with Evee’s.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Evee’s voice is quiet. Vivian watches as the girl’s shoulders quiver.

  “I told you to be quiet.”

  “I want to go home.” Evee’s face is red in an instant and tears are racing down her round cheeks. Her high pitch whines hit Vivian’s ears with sharp jabs that make her flinch.

  “I want to go home.”

  Vivian asks if she wants any ice cream, but Evee continues crying loudly. Vivian takes her hand and leads the girl’s resistant body to the kitchen. She places Evee’s hands over the kitchen sink and repeats the ice cream recipe from the night before. She isn’t sure how much is too much to give a child, but right now she just can’t handle having her awake all day. She crumbles half of her normal dose over the vanilla scoops and pours on chocolate sauce. She’s had enough stress already today and so has the girl. It is time for some peace and quiet.

  After a half and hour, Evee is asleep on the couch. Vivian nudges her to make sure she is out. Then she goes to the garage and gather’s Evee’s warm clothes from the dryer. She holds them close to her chest.

  It is about noon, she can tell by the temperature in the house. It is hot and smells dry. She can tell it is a sunny day outside because of the bright light seeping onto the floor from the bottom of the closed curtains. She can hear children playing in the neighbor’s pool.

  She sits in the lazy boy next to the couch and shakes Evee’s small colorfully striped pants out in front of her. They are well-made. Not cheap, she thinks.

  If only all of this was about money.

  When had Jay become so ideological? He had never been to church, had never talked about this Ann girl or gay people for that matter. But then, she never asked.

  They haven’t spent much time together lately. She avoids him most days. She always has. Dale was the only parent Jay had ever had.

  Since he died, she hadn’t had much time for Jay. She signed him up for sports and she went to some of his games. He liked baseball the most, he said. She sat in the stands, avoiding the young and enthusiastic parents. Sometimes she would watch the game. Jay wasn’t very good at hitting or catching the ball and his reflexes were slow. If he made mistakes, which he often did, Vivian found it hard not bringing them up on the way home or at home later, over dinner.

  She knew she was mean to him. She never really connected with him. She just saw her daughter in him and she was waiting for him to screw up and now he has.

  Her psychologist has said that Jay may remind Vivian of herself. This made her very angry. When the psychologist tried to go deeper and explore why she was so angry at the observation, Vivian said she didn’t want to talk about it.

  Of course she doesn’t want to talk about that. To talk about all the reasons why she is angry would be like ripping herself apart right there in the doctor’s office, in the middle of town, in the middle of a Wednesday, with the rest of the week to get through. She isn’t ready to talk about her anger because it is all she has holding her together. Everything she has loved is gone and all that is left is anger. Her anger at Jay has somehow been able to get her through each day and she doesn’t want to think about it too much. She doesn’t want it to go away because if the anger went away, there would be nothing. Being angry at Jay somehow distracts her from the sadness that she is afraid could kill her if she let it take hold.

  She picks up the remote control and turns on the television. She watches the news every day. She only buys a newspaper once a week on Tuesdays for the television listings. She gets all of her information from TV news. She likes the six o’clock news the best. Even though most days she has seen each of the stories several times by the time the six o’clock news comes on, it has the best theme music and anchors. The real professionals.

  The screen blinks on and there she is, finally. Evee’s face is dead center in the middle of her TV screen above large red letters spelling out MISSING – Evee Morris Sims.

  The excitement of the moment surprises her. She is actually involved in this situation. A policeman is speaking in front of several hovering microphones. Indirectly he is talking about her because the girl he is talking about is with her.

  “We believe she has been taken out of the area. We are urging anyone who has any information at all to please contact the police.”

  On the screen now there is an image of a house with people everywhere. There is police tape. Then an image of a red boot and some people hugging each other. Vivian tries to see if she can recognize Evee’s mother, but she can’t see anyone who she thinks could be her. A reporter’s voiceover lists the activities since the afternoon the day before.

  “A thorough house by house search…

  Helicopter…

  Evee’s friends and classmates…

  A community united to find this special little girl…

  Back to you Mike and Colleen.”

  What would Mike say if she called him and gave him an exclusive on this story? Would he get here before the police? He likes the dramatic stories. He’s always on the side of the freeway reporting the details of major
car crashes.

  A photo of Evee is up on the screen next to Mike’s face. Evee is on TV and laying next to her at the same time. It is unbelievable. The photo of Evee has been cropped. There are hands resting on Evee’s shoulders. She can see fingertips from under Evee’s curly hair, but the arms are cut off. Vivian can’t tell how many people are putting their hands on Evee, but she can tell that there are people standing behind the girl. She can’t tell if the hands belong to women or not. The smile on Evee’s face is so soft and relaxed. There is no sign of the scared little girl she knows in the photo. Her eyes

  She looks over at Evee and knows this child is loved. There is no doubt about it. She is loved very much by whoever is in that photo and all of those people in the news story. She loves them back, this girl. She is capable of great love.

  Vivian is sure now about what she needs to do to resolve this situation.

  ******

  ELEVAN

  Templeton says he hopes they don’t mind that he has brought Jackson along for moral support.

  “Well, it’s not going to be a fucking vacation that’s for sure. It’s fierce and ferocious here right now, look at those people staring at us. We all need any support we can get. Nice to meet you Jackson. You’re very tan,” Olivia says, her voice rough from three sleepless nights and hours of crying and yelling.

  She has insisted on answering the telephone whenever it rings, screaming at the journalists who have been calling since the press conference.

  Some choice excerpts include: “When this is all said and done, your job is mine; I know your boss, I fucked your boss;” (Hana grabbed the phone away from her during that one.) But mostly she starts crying so hard that she can’t form words, so she screams into the phone until someone takes it away from her.

  Before Templeton arrived, Olivia got someone to go and buy several bottles of alcohol in preparation for his arrival.

  A neighbor couple came by with food and Olivia came out of the bedroom with nothing on under her flimsy sexy robe, the one Hana thought no third party would ever see. She grabbed the bottles of vodka and gin and walked to the kitchen exposing more of herself than she would under normal circumstances.

  “Anybody want a drink?” she sung from the kitchen.

  Hana was not sure what to do at first. She could have pushed Olivia back into the bedroom and get her dressed and pretended nothing was wrong in their perfect house or she could have asked the neighbors to leave.

  The neighbors were a straight couple they didn’t know very well anyway. They had a son that Evee played with after school. Hana always got the impression that they didn’t really like their son playing with Evee. Maybe it was because she liked to have bike races with him and she usually won. Or maybe, probably, it was because they are lesbians. Anyway, they had never come by before and there they were on the couch, staring at her with tense lips and lasagna. What were they looking for? What did they think she would do, chat and offer them cucumber sandwiches?

  So with a shaky voice and hot face she said: “I’m not trying to be rude, but this is a very hard time for us. We appreciate your concern, but we can’t really handle anymore visits and could you please tell the other neighbors to respect our privacy.”

  Their faces dropped in unison and they hurried out of the house, leaving the food and wishing all the best. Hana felt guilty, of course, watching them walk down the path to the sidewalk, but as they met with other neighbors and stared back at her from the street, she realized that these people weren’t her friends.

  Jackson is a new boyfriend. Fred left Templeton to return to the city. He said he was wrong, he was not the type to live the rural dream. He said he wanted to be around men in leather, not just one or two, but a room full. He wanted to be a slut again. Templeton let him go. He had fallen in love with New Mexico and he was making art that people were buying. He was living as a working artist for the first time in his life.

  Templeton had been the hesitant one when Fred first suggested that they escape out of an epicenter of the epidemic. He hated the spaces between the houses and the dust when they first moved, but when his phone calls went from once a week to once a month, Olivia told Hana she thought he had decided to stay.

  When Hana visited a couple weeks before, she asked him if he missed Fred. Templeton answered in the same way he has since Fred kissed him goodbye.

  “I’m doing fine.” When he says fine, his voice gets higher and he shakes his head quickly. Sweeping the grief under a mental carpet.

  Templeton has photos of Evee and drawings she has made for him hanging around his studio. He says when he is having a hard time or gets stuck, he looks at Evee and knows he is capable of creating something truly beautiful.

  Now he is at their house. Olivia hugs him and Hana tries to say something to Jackson, something welcoming and host like, but her lips are shaking and all she can do is look at the floor as her tears splash on her feet.

  “I’ll make some lunch,” Jackson says and excuses himself to the kitchen.

  Templeton walks to their bedroom and Olivia and Hana follow. They all climb into the bed and lay on their backs. Templeton is in the middle and spreads his arms out. Hana and Olivia cuddle up to him and he wraps his arms around them. They lie there and breath together.

  Even though Hana loves bed time with Templeton and Olivia, she is feeling claustrophobic and uncomfortable. She is holding her breath and trying to think of something to say. Something appropriate, but then she is angry again. Why should they be comforting each other when Evee is out there? Out there away from them.

  “I like him,” Olivia says.

  “I told him we’re going to need some space,” Templeton says. “But when I need him, I’m really going to need him.”

  Olivia reaches over and holds Hana’s arm.

  “I never saw this coming,” Templeton says.

  “I can’t lay here very long. I can’t do this without her. It’s not right,” Hana sits up and looks at Olivia and Templeton. Olivia’s face is pale. She’s got dark lines under her eyes and Templeton looks tired. They both look back at her.

  “I don’t know what to do? I can’t sit still, I can’t go looking for her because I am afraid I will miss something here or while my head is turned left, I will miss seeing her on my right. I can’t sleep. I’m so scared.”

  Arms wrap around her and Olivia and Templeton hold her as she relaxes her body little by little enough to let their warmth sink in.

  “I’m pregnant,” Hana says and squeezes her eyes shut.

  There is silence. It lasts too long for Hana. She doesn’t know what to say next.

  “I know it’s bad timing.”

  “Are you kidding me Hana? Are you kidding?” Olivia sounds angry.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe she should have an abortion. If this all goes wrong, if Evee never comes home, Olivia might not want to be with her anymore. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She should have kept this to herself. Kept this selfish dream, this young and irrational hope of belonging, a secret.

  “I’m sorry Olivia,” Hana says.

  Olivia turns her head and looks at Hana. Her eyes are clear. For the first time since Evee was taken, her eyes are connecting to Hana.

  “Don’t be sorry. Hana, this is good. This is the best thing I’ve heard in days.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hana says again, but she hadn’t meant to. She wanted to say I love you more than anything Olivia. But sorry is all she feels. Everything she is feeling is saturated with sorrow for Evee. Olivia equals Evee, equals them and she is so sorry for them right now.

  Templeton kisses her on the cheek. Her face is wet with his tears.

  “She’s on her way home, I know she is,” Templeton says.

  Hana remembers the day he told her their future was rosy and that has been true, with the exception of the past few days. Maybe he could be right again.

  ******

  TWELVE

  On her way out of town Vivian stops for
gas. A news report about Evee is blasting out of the overhead speakers of the bright gas station. It is so loud and there is no chance of tuning it out.

  …Missing for two days. Police are treating it as a kidnapping… No suspects… Call the hotline…

  Vivian has never made the news or been associated with the news in her life. She watches the news everyday. She also watches crime shows, court shows and newsmagazine programs. She enjoys the stories people tell on these programs. She watches with interest as people’s lives change. Her life has been the same for so long. Just her and Jay in the garage. Just her and jigsaw puzzles and volunteering at the hospice. Watching the people die. TV is better.

  This, what is happening right now in her life, could be on TV one day. That would be the worst thing because then she’d be on TV and that would change her life. People would see her story. What would she do? She couldn’t go back to how things were before, not after having been exposed to the whole country.

  Her hand shakes as she inserts her bank card into slot on the gas pump. She punches the numbers into the keypad and thinks about the information traveling from this machine to some computer that will bring up a code which represents her purchases and patterns. If she was suspected at all at this moment, she could be tracked down very easily and followed. Definitely followed.

  She hits cancel several times before the transaction goes through. The machine beeps and a long receipt comes out, she rips it up into small pieces. She opens the driver door to her car and leans in to get some cash out of her purse, she looks in the back to check that Evee is still asleep. She walks toward the gas station store looking at the underside of the yellow awning for security cameras, when she sees them she imagines herself in black and white.

  She opens the door to the shop and sets the buzzer off as she steps inside. Two teenage boys at her right are looking at a magazine and giggling. They don’t look up as she walks by, why should they? She’s just an old lady. She looks down the candy aisle and tries to decide what Evee would like. She chooses some wrapped fruit candies and licorice. She has learned that kids prefer the red more than the black stuff. She walks toward the attendant, who is standing with both hands on the counter as if he has been waiting for her all day.