The day had grown brighter but the shadows inside had grown darker. Thicker. They were all around.
Darya went on. ‘Next, I called up all the primary schools in Oban. There were only three private ones that took challenged kids, and only the one which had been in existence for over eight years, the period Ana-Maria was there. They told me another puzzling story. Ana-Maria had left overnight ten years ago, much like you had, leaving a note saying she was going home to take care of her ailing mother. The woman who spoke to me on the phone had known her closely. Only a week before, Ana-Maria had been beside herself with joy, because her brother was coming to visit all the way from Canada. He had exciting news, and she was driving herself crazy wondering what it was. Then … for her to leave like that, all of a sudden, without letting her friends and colleagues know … was quite unlike the Ana they knew. The woman on the phone asked me if I had any news of her.’
When Ana-Maria spoke this time, Darya barely recognised her voice. ‘Quite the storyteller, aren’t you?’ she whispered.
Darya looked at her sorrowfully, noting the hard lines, a face that had never seen joy or freedom. Could she really be blamed for what she’d had to do? Darya couldn’t imagine living a life like that, where she couldn’t speak her mind, where her real self forever battled her made-up one, making her feel like an imposter, day after day.
To reveal his true self, Radu had had to die. What can be sadder than pretending to be someone else for all your life? First, he was Radu, a transgender woman, who’d wanted to break out of his body and turn into the woman he felt he was. Then, he was Ana-Maria, a sister whom he’d admired and modelled himself upon. However, when he finally became her, he could tell no one.
And for him to have become her, she had to die first.
Radu had had to kill her.
‘Smaranda told me how smitten you were by your sister,’ Darya said. ‘How much you loved her and wanted to be like her. Did you plan to take her identity ever since you thought of getting a surgery or did you get the nip and tuck done after you’d gotten rid of her?’
Startled, Ana-Maria lifted her face, and then dropped it just as fast.
Steeling herself, ‘Your father died of a heart attack,’ Darya said flatly. She was staring out of the window so that she could say the next few words without wavering. She had no evidence to back her hypothesis, only a hunch. ‘Your sister died of heart failure, too.’ She turned and watched in satisfaction as shock leapt to Ana-Maria’s face. She must have wondered how Darya knew. ‘Neither had ever complained of heart ailments, but I know from experience a heart attack or stroke can be engineered and go virtually undetected. An injection of calcium gluconate can produce lethal heart arrhythmia. An empty syringe plunged all the way to the end can create an empty air bubble in the artery leading to unexpected embolism. I know, because my uncle died that way. And he had been murdered.’ The words came faster than she intended. She couldn’t stop now. ‘Your father’s death came at a very convenient time, didn’t it? He couldn’t be questioned or accused. He lived a secluded life and saw no one. Was it anger that made you kill him or was it to prevent the world from knowing the truth about Brian? … And also, the truth about you. It must have been easy to …’ Darya cleared her throat. She wasn’t sure of this, but it was a strong possibility, ‘… get them out of the picture so no suspicion falls on you.’ She let out a long breath. ‘Ever.’
Did all families have such devastating secrets?
Darya had imagined her own family to be quite ordinary before the events of the past few months … heck, no … of the past few years came forth to destroy her world. Even from a thousand miles away, they nagged her every waking hour, making her heart ache. Why couldn’t she have been ordinary? Why wasn’t her family run-of-the-mill? First, she’d learnt the truth about her uncle, and then about her father. How had she not known? She dissected the world’s vices and tore them to shreds but ignored the obvious signs from the ones closest to her. Her father’s weaknesses had always been there in front of her, but she’d been blinded by her devotion towards him. She should have known.
Back home, things had come to a head already.
She’d received two emails. One from her mother, hurried and frantic, and another from Veda, crisp and curt.
A police officer came home today. He was from Mumbai. My hands are shaking as I am writing this. Your Pa is involved in some prostitute scam and he says you know about it? He has gone to Mumbai for the investigation. Some politicians and police officers are also involved. It is all over the papers. But thanks to God they have kept your father’s name out. He won’t be arrested. Veda and Namita came home yesterday. They are with me. Aaron also came. Of all people, Veronica called me. She also knows. The shame. Where are you? Please come home. I need you.
Darya – Time to come back. It’s all out in the open now. You knew this was going to happen someday. How was running away going to help? This is so unlike you. Wait, no. This is exactly like you. Grow up. Come home. There’s another thing aunty told me you should know. This could change everything you know about yourself. And your family.
– Veda
Darya knew that a shit storm awaited her when she went home, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to face the reality.
Just as Radu was facing hers now.
Because everything about life is shitty.
Darya sighed.
Radu was staring back at her vacantly.
Darya felt a strange kinship with her. Like Darya herself, Radu had had good intentions to begin with: to be good to the world; to do well in it; not to destroy all that she loved or be destroyed by the crushing weight of her family’s secrets.
But it had all come to naught.
‘At first, I wondered if Brian had died because he knew of the Arlechins. Because he did know. He’d messaged me one time, alluding to them. He’d asked Vera to translate a few phrases from an old text. I think Oleg must’ve told him about them, sort of like a boast. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised, that … that wasn’t the reason. Or not the primary one, at least. Most likely he died because …,’ Darya paused, running a hand through her brow, realising again how many disparate factors had led to Brian’s death, ‘… he was a nomad whom no one was going to miss, and he had become a threat to Mihai and the Rosettis’ good name.’
She saw Radu’s hands tremble, her chin quiver. A lone tear coursed down her cheek.
‘How much did you know?’ Darya asked. ‘Did you know Brian was your son? And Mihai, his grandfather, was his unwitting murderer? Or had he known about Brian?’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she murmured, but her voice was flat, dead.
Darya continued, ‘Brian Roberts was your son. And the only reason you wanted to hire a private detective, or a sleuth of some kind was to confirm this suspicion, and if true, find out what happened to him. Because … you had abandoned your family a decade ago, when Brian was still quite young; you didn’t remember what he looked like. When I saw the photo of you, him, and Alex, my brain made the connection, yet I was having a hard time believing, because …’ Darya locked eyes with Radu, whose face had turned a slushy mess.
‘Say it,’ she said, her voice gravelly.
Darya leaned forward. ‘Because … obviously you were a woman. Until then, I’d met you only twice. I’d never met Ana-Maria. I had no way of knowing. And you two used to look alike, I’m sure no one guessed. Except your father. Who I gather didn’t care.’
Radu remained silent. Only her jaw worked.
‘You married Alexandra even though you were transgender,’ Darya said, her tone accusing.
Radu flashed a contorted smile. ‘I’m a transgender woman who likes women. Alex knew that and she accepted it. We loved each other. Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Darya said. ‘Do you realise, indirectly you were the reason for Brian’s death? You abandoned your family and he came looking for you. Did
he know the truth about you?’
Radu answered slowly, her lips moving as if disassociated from her mouth. ‘I had nothing to do with his death.’
‘But you knew he was your son?’
With what looked like a tremendous effort, Radu nodded.
‘When did you suspect?’ Darya asked. ‘Or had you always known?’
‘After he disappeared, I asked to see the passport details he had submitted to Vera while checking into the hostel. He hadn’t changed his first name and I made the connection with the family name. They continued to live in the same house in Calgary. And he looked like his mother.’ Radu stared down at the table. ‘He hadn’t told Alina anything. I asked her, discreetly, of course. She only knew he was looking for a Romanian relative. I don’t know if he told Oleg. I was too afraid to ask.’
‘He probably did.’
She didn’t reply.
‘Would you have liked to have met him before he died?’ Darya asked, feeling a tinge of sadness for the broken woman in front of her. ‘Is that why you wanted me to look for him?’
She did not reply.
‘How much did your father know?’ Darya asked.
Irritably wiping the tears that had formed again at the corner of her eyes, ‘About Brian or about me?’ she asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, ‘In any case, he never said anything to me. We barely talked at all this year; I’ve been so busy.’ She stared at her hands. ‘I think he always liked me more than he liked Ana but didn’t show it, because my mother was a formidable force in our house. She loved Ana and hated me … Or maybe my father was just grateful I returned at all. He always knew I was queer and accepted it in his silent way. But my mother, not so much. She refused to see it even, forcing me to drop out of school, banning me all social contact, so that the Rosetti name is not trashed with scandal. She tried to get me cured through therapy and gypsy medicines. One day, tired of it all, I ran away. The following months were the hardest of my life. I was alone, in the cold, with very little money, predators everywhere. I got in touch with Ana, out of desperation. She told Mihai, and he sent money through her. She came to meet me in Oradea, where I was then, living in a squat. She told me not to come back home. You’re not welcome, she said. Especially, Mamă … she was not going to take me back.’ Her brows creased at the memory and a soft sigh escaped her lips. She took a deep breath to get herself under control, and Darya saw that. While speaking seemed to be an effort, she seemed relieved to be getting it off her chest. ‘But that money helped. I got by. Found odd jobs. Worked as a homeopath’s apprentice, and afterwards, moved with him to set up his practice in Calgary. I left him soon after to complete my degree in nursing.’ Her hands clutched the edges of the table. Her lips drew a taut line. ‘When I returned to Sibiu, Mihai had withered to a dry shell, more so than before. I told him who I was, what had happened. To me. To Ana, who’d left the same year as me, only a few months after. He believed me and I think it was because he was grateful. I had returned to take care of him, and the businesses. Ana wouldn’t have done so. He was glad he wasn’t going to die alone. I never lied. Not to him, not to Alex, not to Ana.’
Alexandra Roberts was a medical student when she met Radu Rosetti who’d started working as a nurse at Calgary’s North Health Campus. They dated for three months and were married for seven years.
‘I’d made up my mind about having the surgery. Alex thought it would not be good for Brian. She refused to support me. I couldn’t convince her otherwise. We fought a lot. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I left home.’ She looked at Darya, a pained, twisted smile on her face. ‘Yes. Again. When you live in a body like mine, in a world like we do, you’ll know this is the only way. Running. Constantly. From one’s self and the world. But no matter how much I ran, how far, how long, there was no escape. I was trapped.’
‘Are you free now?’
A sob escaped her. She made a fist to cover her mouth, rocking back and forth on her seat.
‘What did you do next?’ Darya asked.
‘A few months later, I got my gender re-assignment operation. And then … a face reconstruction.’
‘And you called yourself Ana-Maria,’ Darya finished.
‘I’d always wanted to be like her,’ Radu said slowly. ‘Now I could.’
‘But it didn’t stop there, did it?’ Darya muttered. ‘Did you …?’
On the internet, Darya had looked up for information on unidentified dead bodies discovered near Oban, later extending her search to all of Scotland. Eight years ago, a charred body had been found in the woods in East Dunbartonshire—two-and-a-half hours from Oban but connected by a train line—puncture wounds throughout the body, the front teeth smashed. The middle-aged woman had died of a heart attack and her body had been burnt thereafter. The death had caused quite a frenzy, but it had died down after a month when no one came forward to identify the remains. It couldn’t be tied to a missing person report either.
But the timeline of the body’s discovery matched that of the week Ana-Maria had disappeared from Oban.
‘Brian had been planning to go to Oban next, did you know that?’ asked Darya. ‘I found print-outs of flight schedules to London and Edinburgh, the closest airports to Oban, along with connection information.’
‘How did he know about Oban?’
‘It’s commonly known you … Ana-Maria had lived there before she came here,’ Darya said. ‘Alina told me. Oleg could’ve told Brian. Why he was planning to go, though, I couldn’t say. Maybe he’d started to suspect what I now know.’
‘My sister died of natural causes,’ Radu protested, her voice shrill. ‘She’d been suffering from cancer. I went to meet her in Oban after my surgery and stayed with her until she passed on. I had her blessings to do what I did. And she had me, to comfort her in her last days.’
When Darya finally left the cold attic and walked out to the street, it was already 10 a.m.
The sun’s rays filtered through the silvery clouds and splattered onto the roofs; the lidded vents on them glowered at her. The roads were filling up with people; most had either a coffee cup or a beer can in their hands. They were out early, to enjoy the day’s fickle warmth, which she knew was going to pass soon.
Stores were opening on the street. A boy passed her on a bicycle, whistling a merry tune. A couple kissed passionately under an awning, the boy grasping his lover’s waist, the girl’s hoops dancing merrily in the wind. Darya envied their high spirits and the possibilities the day held for them.
Neither Radu nor she was going to see good days for a while now.
She’d left Radu back in the loft, with Christine to comfort her. Darya had been reluctant to stay any longer; Radu might soon realise the consequences now that Darya knew the truth about her and to fend off any danger, Darya had let Radu know Alina was coming to pick her up. In any case—and this was something Radu knew, too—Darya was not going to go to the police; wild accusations by a foreigner would scarcely invite action, and the Rosettis had too much influence in the city. Moreover, Darya had no real proof Radu was involved in anything untoward. That Ana-Maria was, in fact, Radu, was her own secret to tell, and not for Darya to reveal.
Radu’s transition to Ana-Maria was the reason he had been reluctant to meet with the outside world. She hadn’t wanted people to recognise her, ask questions, wonder about her identity. Whilst becoming Ana was the only way she could return home; she’d known she was never going to be free.
It had been a risk she’d been willing to take.
Until Brian showed up. And was murdered.
Darya’s mind went back to their final exchange in the cold attic.
‘Who else knows?’
‘I’ve told no one. Don’t plan to either.’
‘What about Alina?’
‘She only knows I might get into trouble, but what and why exactly, she has no idea,’ Darya had told Radu. ‘If you confess to everything now, you might be free. Finally. In any case, if Oleg confesses, you’ll be left wit
h little choice.’
With effort, Radu had rearranged the broken parts of her face. With a sad laugh, ‘Yes, I might finally be free,’ she’d muttered, and it had seemed to Darya as if she almost believed it. Then looking up, she’d continued to insist, ‘But I didn’t kill Ana. In truth, it was because of me she did not die alone. There was no one to look after her at Oban. It was only me. That’s why family is important. At least, Brian came looking.’
‘And look what happened to him,’ Darya had murmured.
She’d gone on as if Darya had not spoken. ‘Ana loved that I looked so much like her. If you’d seen us together … after I’d changed …,’ a dry chuckle at the memory. ‘When she died, I thought it was the logical thing to do. Take over her life. Return home. I so desperately wanted to come back to Sibiu.’
‘And no one guessed.’
She’d nodded. ‘My mother was dead. My father was dying. Everyone who met me assumed Ana looked different because she’d aged. She’d also survived cancer.’ She paused. ‘Then Brian appeared.’
‘And everything went belly-up.’
Darya turned a corner and saw Alina, gently cruising up the road in her car. She waved to her. Alina leaned out of the window and waved back.
Darya’s heart was heavy as she crossed the road.
As she was going to leave Sibiu in an hour.
And return to her real life.
Thank you for indulging me and reading thus far. You are awesome!
Book reviews mean a lot to us authors. Therefore, can I gently persuade you to leave me one? It’ll help other readers find my books, and the hours spent dreaming up and writing these stories will be all worthwhile.
Thank you! May your life be as weird and as wonderful as Darya’s.
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 70