Captured Lies

by Maggie Thom

Bailey hugged her arms around her waist. The warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from being part of a family flooded her insides. It was so new to her that she almost staggered under the weight of the sensation. She felt like jumping up and kicking her heels. This had been her Christmas wish for twenty-nine years. Somewhere deep inside she knew she was overreacting and that there was a lot more to this story than someone returning a picture and telling her she now owned an expensive, old tiara. There was a lot she didn't know. But she wasn't ready to hear it yet. She just wanted some time to absorb the gooey, good feelings going through her. Hanging onto the new sensation, she walked the last twenty steps to her mom's house.

  Head bowed, she unlocked the side door and stepped through. It all came crashing back - her mom was gone, there was a house to pack up and get rid of, she had a job she wanted but felt guilty about. Her mom telling her to stop always wanting more - she didn't need relatives, she had her. Why couldn't that be enough?

  "Don't do this Bailey, someone will notice you. Don't do that Bailey, someone will notice you. Don't make a lot of noise Bailey, someone will hear you. Grab your Miss Piggy, we've got to leave, Bailey. Stop crying Bailey, there are more important things than that ratty old stuffed animal. I'll get you a new one as soon as we find a place. I'll get you some new shoes too. Things will change soon, Bailey. Smile for Mom."

  She wanted to scream, 'they never damn well did, Momma'.

  Sobs racked her body as she raced through the house and threw herself onto her bed. Clutching the picture to her chest she let out all the anger, fear and frustration she'd bottled up for twenty-nine years. Tears poured down her face and mingled with the snot that ran freely. Her body rigid, she wailed like a two-year old who had been told it was nap time. She felt like pounding her fists and kicking her feet.

  The anguish poured out of her like a glacier fed waterfall. It went on and on and on. She wasn't aware of time or anything for that matter. Her mind was consumed with the torn lonely feeling of being alone. Only she didn't need to be anymore. But then the guilt set in. Her mom had never allowed family into her life. So how could she? What could they have done to be cut so totally out of her life?

  A long time later, when she felt drained and barely able to move, she reached over to grab a tissue off the bedside stand and blew her nose. Shoving herself upright, she tucked the picture of her great-grandmother in her purse, then pushed herself off the bed. She headed across the hall into the bathroom. She scooped up the cold water and drenched her face. The water was jarring but felt somewhat reviving. She repeated this several times. She grabbed the peach towel hanging off to her right. The nicely folded lace face cloth fluttered to the counter. She looked at it and then at the spot where it had been hanging. Another matching towel and facecloth hung right beside them on another peg. The water ran down her face and dripped off her chin as she stared at that spot. Everything had always been just so. Nothing had ever been out of place. Certain things were put in certain spots. She was sick and tired of it.

  She mopped her face, tossed the towel on the counter and stepped out of the bathroom. She stopped in the hallway dimly lit from the late afternoon sun filtering in through the window. It looked dark and dingy. So much a reminder of what her life had been.

  "It's dark, Momma."

  "Shh. Be quiet, Bailey. We're playing hide and seek. Remember you have to be very quiet."

  "No, Momma. I don't wanna play that again. No, Momma. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. Momma!"

  Bailey shivered at one of many memories she'd rather forget. One of the many, when they'd snuck out in the middle of the night. Snuck away like really bad people always in the dark. That thought stopped her for a moment. She ran into the living room, grabbed the middle of the drapes and yanked them wide open. A peeping tom would never have gotten a glimpse into this house. It stopped her for a moment to wonder what her mom covered the windows with when the curtains were cleaned. Every three months like clockwork they were out the door and dry-cleaned.

  She yanked open the inside door and quickly shoved the window up on the outer door, leaving only the screen. In the kitchen and both bedrooms she pulled away the blinds and curtains and slid open the windows. Shooting out of her mom's bedroom she tripped over the bag of stuff from the bathroom. Shampoos, soaps, hair stuff, cleaners, hair net. It was just junk. There was nothing personal there. Grabbing the full bag she dropped it at the end of the hallway.

  Turning, she stepped into the living room and pulled open drawers. She flipped through the meager things she found there. Paper. Pens. Then she pulled open the bottom cupboards on the china cabinet, newspapers, stacks of them, always the precious news. Not caring about her mom's fanaticism for keeping them, Bailey was clear that this stuff had to go. She went to the kitchen and took out four large green garbage bags and proceeded to fill them. She grabbed and stuffed, grabbed and stuffed.

  Every now and then a date would catch her eye and she'd remember what was happening in her life, on that day.

  July 15th, 1990. The year they had moved twice. Once from a cute little house in some dinky little town in northern B.C. to a dinky little town in Southern Saskatchewan to?

  Bailey couldn't remember where to after that. She shoved some more paper in the bag.

  December 23, 1993, the year they skipped Christmas because they were on the move to Lethbridge, Alberta, maybe.

  September 5, 1995, yanked out of school the second month to move again, to leave behind the one friend she'd finally made. Someone who'd moved almost as much as she had.

  Bailey started shredding the pages as she went. Pieces were flying as she worked like a mad woman, ripping and filling.

  July 14th, 2000. Bailey stopped. She had no idea where she had been on that date, living in Vancouver, maybe? But what had she been doing? She frowned. It wouldn't come to her. After a few moments she realized how good that actually felt not to know where she was on a certain date. Thanks to the lifestyle they'd lived, Bailey had kept a diary. Every day had meticulously been marked down, the events recorded. Because there had always been something to note. Always the need to tell someone or something how she felt about each ugly move but never able to whisper a word. Writing it down, had been her solace, her friend.

  She paused for a moment wondering where she'd put her diaries. Some had gotten lost over the years. She hadn't always had time or the opportunity to grab them when they'd moved. Her mom had shown up at school on three occasions to whisk her away to the next place.

  February 14, 1989. Valentine's Day.

  Hmmm. We lived in a trailer park. What was the name of the town?

  Shrugging, she tossed it away.

  June 23, 1985.

  At some point she realized that there were only certain dates of newspapers in there. She wondered how many years worth, were out in the shed. Not that she was supposed to know that's what was out there. Shaking off those memories, she did not want to try to figure out what had eluded her for twenty-nine years - why her mom had been obsessed with knowing everything that was going on across the country.

  May 1, June 1, July 1, 5, 6, 7, 10... August 1, 3, 6, 7, 8... September 1, 5, 6, 10... October 1, and many more in1983.

  How come so many that year... the same year I was born?

  Tired of the game and the feelings of being a vagabond that it brought back, Bailey shoved all the papers into the garbage bags. Most of the newspapers, she absently noted, were the large conglomerate papers, all the big national ones.

  Her mom had been so excited to be moving into that house. It was one of the few times that Bailey had seen her almost giddy. They'd had fun picking out stuff at garage sales, second hand stores, from newspaper ads, to fill the house. Then one day a truck had arrived with boxes and boxes of stuff. Stuff her mom said she'd put in storage a long time ago. Bailey had gotten so mad, she'd left. There had been too many times there hadn't been enough money for food and yet her mom had found enough to pay for storing her things. None of which Bailey had ever asked abo
ut, mostly because she doubted her mom would have told her what was in each container. Looking at the mess she'd made, the bits of newsprint scattered about and the large garbage bags flopped over like sumo wrestlers, she'd bet it had been the damn newspapers.

  Stepping over the bags, she grabbed some orange garbage bags and headed for her mom's bedroom. She'd never been allowed to enter her mom's room, not even as an adult, especially not as an adult.

  Bailey grabbed the bedding off the bed and stuffed it all in one bag, pillows and all. Looking from the bedside stand to the dresser she realized she couldn't do either one yet. Too private. Not that different from everything else of her mom's but it was still too personal. It was like her mom was standing there, over her shoulder, watching every move she made.

  The closet was next. She pulled open the tinny metal doors and grabbed clothes. Her mom was 5'3" and slightly rounded so Bailey knew that she wouldn't even have to look at the items as they wouldn't come close to fitting her 5'8" athletic build. Besides, her mom liked cotton dresses like Lucy used to wear on I Love Lucy, her mom's favorite show, old fashioned, dowdy clothes. Not that Bailey wore dresses anyway but she liked to think she wore nice outfits.

  She yanked clothes off the hangers and stuffed them into one of the bags. When most of the hangers were swinging empty she reached up for the last few dresses. Other than the first one being ugly, she paused as she saw the red silk dress her mom had worn once a long time ago. Beside it were two other very stylish outfits. They were beautiful and very expensive. Where had they come from? She'd never seen her mom wear them. What were you hiding, Mom?

  She shoved them, along with three pair of black patent flats, one fuzzy pair of white slippers, one pair of old-lady-square-toe-one-inch heel shoes, into another bag. From the top shelf she pulled blankets, a few sweaters and her mom's down filled winter coat.

  None of it had any meaning for her. She kept up a steady pace, not looking at anything she threw out. Nor did she allow herself time to think. Next she walked into the tiny bathroom off the bedroom. The medicine cabinet was full of prescription and OTC meds. Paranoia had been her mom's best friend. Maybe she should have pushed for her mom to get some professional mental health intervention. Not that her mom hadn't sought help. It had always seemed to be the back street doctors that no one had a good word to say about. They'd write a prescription for anything. Her mom had one for just about every ailment you could think of - arthritic hips, insomnia, osteoarthritis, stomach problems and nausea - the list never seemed to stop. There were medications for all of those problems - anti-inflammatories, pain killers, pills for arthritis and pills for sleeping, pills for nausea. The list went on and on. Depression would have been her diagnosis for her mom but she'd never been asked her opinion.

  There was too much stuff. She quit reading the prescriptions, chucking it all into the tiny garbage can.

  Then there were the supplements - garlic, Glucosamine Sulfate, Vitamin D, multivitamins?

  Her own pain killers - Aspirin, Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Advil, Contact C?

  No wonder her heart gave out... all this crap.

  Bailey kept tossing everything into the small garbage can, now overflowing. Plastic bottles bounced off others and shot onto the floor. She stepped back into the bedroom to grab the can by her mom's bed. The overflow filled it half way. The cupboard under the sink held curlers, hair nets and cleaners. Normally, she would have recycled everything but she didn't want to take the time to do that. Everything was going out.

  The phone rang. Bailey frowned as she listened to the second ring. Who'd be calling? It had to be an acquaintance of her mom's or the lawyer. Jumping over bags and scattered garbage she raced out into the living room and grabbed the phone on the fourth ring.

  "Hello."

  "Hello."

  "Hi. You've reached?"

  "Just a minute. Just a minute? How do you shut this stupid thing off?" Bailey slapped at buttons until the answering machine quit.

  "Hello. Hello."

  Bailey's hand tightened on the receiver. "Who is this?"

  "It's me, Guy. We talked-"

  "What do you want?"

  "I figured you've had enough time to go over what I told you this morning. We need to meet and discuss the rest."

  Bailey clutched her hand to her churning stomach. She couldn't meet with this guy, there was no way. She had no idea who he was. He could be a nut case. How hard was it to find an old picture and have it look like you? "Look, there's no money. My mom wasn't rich. I don't have anything of value. I've got nothing for you. How'd you get this number?"

  "Let me show you what I have. Meet me at six at Stella's Bar and Grill in Shaughnessy. Do you know where it is?"

  "Yes. But what's the hurry?"

  A surprised guffaw was her answer.

  The silence stretched for a very long time. Bailey bit her lip, working her teeth from the right side to left and back again.

  "All right. I'll meet you there at six-thirty."

  There was no response for several seconds. "I'm really sorry about this, Cassidy."

  The distinct click sound let her know there was no use in responding.

  Cassidy? Who the hell is Cassidy? Just like I thought, he has the wrong person.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN