by C J M Naylor
"Do you honestly believe that?" she whispered vehemently. "Do you truly think that a friendship can be repaired? Are your questioning whether we even had a friendship?"
“‘Yes’ would be the answer to all of those questions," I responded.
I stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink. I began to scrub the dishes from last night, violently.
"How could you say that?"
My head turned. Bridget was standing up. She was shaking and looked like she was losing control.
"After everything we have done for each other!" she shouted. "After everything we've been through, you are going to question the validity of our friendship? Are you being honest with me Abby?"
My hand flung out from the sink and I forgot the dish was in it. I let go of it and it flung across the room and hit the wall; shattering into pieces.
"I am being honest with you, Bridget!" I shouted at her. "I don't know what is happening to us. I don't know if we were truly friends. I'm just trying to find out myself here. All of my life I have been in the dark. I don't know who I am. I just want to know who I am."
"You are Abigail Jordan," Bridget retorted back at me, "daughter of Dean and Annette Jordan. You grew up with me on Barton street. You are a strong and practicing Catholic. You attended school with me all your life, including Birkbeck now. You are in love with Phillip Hughes and are going to marry him. That is who are you are, Abby. I don't understand why you've been looking for yourself when you were here the whole time."
"You don't understand," I responded, "everyone has a name, a family, and someone they love. But everyone also has something in life that makes it life for them. They have a journey of self-discovery. I'm on that journey, I'm trying to grow up."
"But you are losing everyone you care about in the process," Bridget replied. "How close were you to your parents these past few months? How close have you been to Phillip? More importantly, how close have you been to this little mission of yours? You are forgetting about everything that is already here so that you can find what isn't. I wouldn't be surprised if karma killed your parents."
She immediately looked guilty for saying it, but before I knew it I was across the room and I had slapped her across the face. She went straight for the door, but before she walked out, she turned and spoke one last time.
"I will be there for you," she said, "when whatever it is you are searching for is found, or even if it's not. I just want you to be honest with me. I feel like you are trying to find someone that hasn't been lost."
She left, closing the door as she did. I fell back onto the couch and cried.
Hours later, I was still on the couch and it was dark again when I opened my eyes. I could hear the door of the flat opening, but I did not bother to look up and see who it was. I wondered why people did terrible things; sometimes the most terrible to the people that they loved the most. It was a strange concept to me. Never in my lifetime would I have thought that I would have slapped my closest friend. But never in my life had I thought she would have said some of the things that she had said.
"Abigail, what in the hell is going on?"
I finally turned my head toward the door at the sound of Phillip's voice. It was open and he was standing in the doorway, looking around the room in confusion. I realized the broken dish was still on the floor in pieces. There was a nice dent in the wall where it had hit. My face was probably streaked with tears and my eyes were most likely redder then, when my cheeks flushed.
Phillip shut the door and walked over to the couch. He looked down at me for a moment, and then took a seat next to me. I laid my head back down into his lap and closed my eyes. I took in his familiar, clean scent. I let it fill my senses. I felt his hand on the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair. I wished this moment could last forever. It felt like one of those precious moments. It felt like a moment that was so simple, yet so elegant.
"What happened, Abby?" Phillip whispered. His voice was gentle.
"Bridget happened."
Those two words were all I said to him. He didn't ask me another question. We were close enough now that he could understand without a detailed account of what happened. He understood my pain and he understood Bridget's pain.
I looked up into Phillip's eyes. He continued to run his fingers through my hair.
"Is it possible that I'm just a horrible person?" I asked him.
Phillip lifted me out of his lap and then slipped off the couch. He knelt down next to my knees and took my hands in his. I was looking away, but I felt his eyes watching me and I turned mine to look into his.
"I love you, Abigail Jordan," Phillip whispered to me. "And in my love for you, I have come to realize how much of a delicate, kind, and passionate person you are. You're only human."
A single tear fell down the side of my cheek. I didn't try to wipe it away. I let it fall.
"Do you think I've lost my way?"
Phillip did not answer for a moment. He continued to gaze into my eyes. It was as if he was looking for the answer, but I knew he knew it.
"Perhaps," he responded, "but that doesn't mean you're on the wrong path. Maybe you've just changed direction. There is still so much to understand and discover."
"Will she forgive me?"
It was the most important question. If no, I felt like I would break.
"I know she will," Phillip finally answered.
I pulled him up off his knees by his shirt. He lay on top of me and we kissed. The warmth and passion of the moment consumed me. His hands held me tight and I curled my fingers through his hair. It was our moment.
Phillip finally stopped kissing me and we both took a breath. I brought my hand up to his cheek and touched it. His skin was soft and warm against the palm of my hand. It was the vibrancy of his life.
"I'm ready to end this," I whispered.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Bessie promised me she had the truth," I said, "I've only been putting it off because I've been afraid. I'm ready for it. Maybe it will put me in a different direction again. I want to go now. I want to go with you."
Phillip nodded and then pressed his lips to mine again.
I stared out the window of Phillip's car as we made our way to the West End and Bessie's flat. I had to admit I didn't like the building she lived in. It was more rundown than where Phillip lived. We took the lift up to the floor that Bessie lived on and stepped out into the dreary, dark hallway. It was darker than usual; more lights had gone out since my last visit. I found flat number thirty and knocked on the door. My hand clenched Phillip's tightly. He stood by my side and was ready to take this next step with me. The door opened and the fragile-looking Bessie stood on the other side.
Her face lit up when she saw me, and a warm smile spread across it.
"Abigail. I'm so glad you've come."
Bessie pulled the door open wider and stepped out of the doorway.
"Please, come in."
Phillip and I walked over the threshold and into the flat. We followed her over to the couch and chairs by the window. I sat next to Phillip on the couch and Bessie took her seat in her chair. She crossed her legs and placed her hands on them, waiting for me to speak.
"Bessie," I said, "I'm ready to know everything. I know I've been skeptical and I haven't been completely accepting, but I'm ready now. Everything you have told me about Mathias appears to be true and it sickens me. But I need to know what happened to my mother. Maybe the one thing that keeps Mathias from being the good person he can be, is because he lost her."
The look on Bessie's face went from a smile to one of pain. She looked down at her feet and moved them a little, uncrossing her legs. Finally, she looked back up at me.
"Abigail. I'm sorry you've come to that conclusion. Because what I have to tell you is far from it. It is the reason I have waited so long. You truly had to be ready to accept this knowledge."
A feeling of dread pooled in my stomach. But I had come too far to run away now.
/> "I'm ready."
Bessie took a deep breath and then spoke.
"As I've told you before, your mother was my closest friend when Mathias and I broke up. When I agreed to introduce your mother to Mathias, it was with a heavy heart that I did. I could not even begin to imagine the horrors that would unfold within their relationship." Bessie paused and looked out the window of the flat. Her eyes seemed transfixed on the sky, until finally she looked back at me.
"The two of them became very close," she continued. "However, your mother soon confided in me the same problems I had seen in him. However, she was different than me. She liked to help people and she tried to help Mathias, but I soon came to understand he suffered from a mental disorder; I believe they call it schizophrenia. It would explain many of his outbursts at you, but it appears they are rather minimal toward you. I figure he has been controlling it. However, the truth is that Mathias also had a personality disorder. He began to send your mother threatening messages she believed were from another person. He used a completely different handwriting and everything. Finally, on the day your mother gave birth, they both met on the bridge, and it was to her horror that she realized it was Mathias. I followed her to the Bridge that night. He had a violent outburst with your mother when she tried to help him and he...he hung her from the bridge. He killed her."
My heart was racing. I could barely control my breathing. I stood upright and began to pace around the room. This was not what I was expecting. I thought Mathias maybe had some anger issues, but he disguised everything so well. He seemed genuinely concerned about how my mother had died; yet he had been the one to kill her. His disguise had been misleading, but not misleading enough. If I had not come into contact with Bessie, I feared what could have happened.
"Your mother left you the letter that said your father was dead because she didn't want you to fall into his clutches," Bessie continued, "which is why I have been watching you as much as possible. I knew you would seek out the truth of what happened to your mother. I knew you would be in danger around Mathias. It is why I have watched over you these past few months. Abigail, I'm sorry."
Phillip stood up and pulled me to him. I tried to break away, but he held me as the tears poured from my eyes. My father had murdered my mother. Everything had been a lie from him, as I had suspected all along. He was what I had feared of myself only months ago. He had a mental disorder. I couldn't even begin to fathom this knowledge.
"Let's go home, Abby," Phillip whispered.
I stepped away from him and screamed. Bessie stood up and walked toward me, but didn't try to comfort me.
“Why didn’t you go to the police, Bessie?” I asked.
She looked at me for a moment and then simply said, “I was afraid.”
"I want to go there," I said, "I want to confront him. He needs to be held responsible. We can report him to the council."
Phillip shook his head at me. "Abby, you are not thinking properly. We need to stay away from him, not fuel his desires."
"What about Ian?" I asked. "We at least need to go for him. He should know."
Bessie held up her hand.
"Abigail is right," Bessie said. "Mathias needs to be held responsible for what he has done. He is not suitable to be a Timekeeper. He has disguised his problems and actions well, but it is time we bring them to light. I have always feared him since I found out who he truly was, but with your help now, Abigail, we can expose him together. Abigail, will you take me to the Headquarters. I can call on the councilors and we can take care of this. And the boy, Ian—he can learn the truth about his teacher."
Phillip looked at me and I looked at him. I had to do it. He knew I had to. We had to resolve this. I had to do this for my mother. Her murderer had to be brought to the light.
"Only if Phillip can come," I said. "Mathias said he couldn't be trusted there."
Bessie laughed.
"That is only the talk of Mathias," she responded. "He likes to think he's powerful with his rules. Let's go."
Bessie grabbed a coat from her closet and we followed her out of the flat. A fear of the unknown beat within my chest. But I knew that the truth had to be brought to the light.
It was almost dark out as we made our way to Big Ben.
"Big Ben," Bessie said. "I'd heard rumors it was here. But it is still well-hidden."
The three of us got out of Phillip's car and made our way into the basement. I took out my key and unlocked the entrance to the lift.
"Abby," Phillip said, "are you sure you want me there?"
I could tell Phillip was nervous. I was about to reveal a part of me that he had only heard about for the past few months. Up until now, he had only my word as proof for what I was. Now, he would see everything.
"It's time you know what I am," I said. A smile was on my face. "I know you believe me, but I'm ready to show you. I want you there."
The three of us stepped into the lift and it began to descend downward. Darkness was upon us and then the lift doors opened and we all stepped out. Bessie leaned over me and whispered into my ear.
"Maybe you two should go first?" she suggested. "If I come in, out of the blue, it might be too much of a shock. I don't want him to have a violent outburst."
I nodded and Bessie lagged behind by the lift. She would be able to hear us down the hall talking to Mathias. Phillip followed me and we made our way to the circular room. Mathias was at his desk as usual, but his head was back in his chair and his eyes were closed. I realized he was asleep. He wouldn't have heard us come in.
Ian walked out of a side door and his expression changed quickly. It went from a normal expression, to shock at seeing Phillip, and then outrage.
"Abigail," he said, "what are you doing? He can't be in here."
"I'm here to settle who killed my mother."
Before Ian could say anything else, I shouted.
"Mathias!"
He jumped in his chair and then looked upright at me. He looked normal at first, but then his face turned bright red when he saw Phillip. He stood up.
"What the hell do you think you are doing? Get him out of here now! How dare you Abigail! Ian, did you know about this?"
Mathias pointed a long finger at Phillip, but neither of us budged.
"I'm done playing your games and mind-tricks, Mathias," I said. "Phillip has come to help me. I am here so that you can be held responsible for your crimes."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I couldn't help it anymore. There was so much anger that was building up inside me that I started to scream.
"Stop lying to me! You killed my mother! You killed your wife! You killed Elisabeth!"
"Why are you still on about that?" He didn't shout at me. His voice was low and quiet.
"Because I know it is the truth," I responded. "You stalked her and sent her those vicious letters. You have a mental disorder and you need help."
Mathias began to laugh. Ian stood stock still at my side. I think my accusations must have left him speechless.
"Abigail, are you listening to yourself?" he said. "Why would you insist on any of this? What letters are you talking about? Is this because I have decided to be your teacher rather than your father? Is this some way of getting back at me?"
"Don't you remember the pearls?" I asked him. "And your angry outburst? You were angry because I had gone to the old Headquarters and because I had found something of my mother’s."
"Those weren't your mother’s,” Mathias said to me. "I took everything of hers when I left. Except for the furniture, I took all of her clothes and all of her jewelry."
"Stop lying! All of my mother's stuff was there. You left it all. You killed her! I've learned the truth from someone other than you."
"Whom have you learned the truth from?" Mathias retorted. He pointed a finger at Phillip again. "Was it him? Has he been filling your head with these ideas?"
"She learned the truth from me."
My body went rigid. Bessie's voice
sounded in my ears and I turned around to look at her standing in the entrance of the room. I looked back at Mathias. A look of utter horror I had never seen was on his face.
"Bessie,” was all he said.
Bessie walked further into the room and stopped just behind me.
"Hello, Mathias. Long time, no see."
Mathias appeared to regain his composure and looked back at me.
"Abigail, I don't know what ideas this woman has been telling you, but it’s all lies."
"That's just what he wants you to think," Bessie whispered to me. "He's lying."
"Bessie, shut up!" Mathias shouted. "Abigail, I'm your father. She is telling you lies. You must not believe them. She isn’t even British; she’s American and yet here she is, disguising her accent."
"If she is lying, then why did my mother leave me a note saying to stay away from this world, saying that you were dead?"
A look of confusion dawned on his face and I pulled the letter my mother had given me that had been left at the orphanage and walked up to him, thrusting it out. He took it and read over it, and sadness appeared on his face.
"Abigail." His voice was sad, dead. "I don't know why your mother would say this. I only ever loved her." He looked up at me and for the first time since I had met him, he was beginning to cry.
"It's because she knew you were dangerous, and as for Bessie, she's been kinder to me than you ever have. She was there when my mother and father died. She was there for me. Where were you? She comforted me. Why would I believe you?"
The tears streamed down his face. He was shaking. "Abigail, please listen to me. I'm telling you the truth. I'm sorry for not being there for you, but I'm telling you the truth. Who do you trust?"
The word trust caught me. I thought about the people that cared about me and did things for me. I thought about the good people in my life as well as the bad. But who did I trust? I continued to think. It felt like this question was the biggest question of them all. It all came down to this.