The Vanishing Expert

by David Movsesian

  As morning arrived, Kate stepped out of the room to use the bathroom, and found Linda sitting alone on the sofa in the living room. She was staring blankly at the television, which was on but muted, and she gave no indication of being aware of Kate as she approached her.

  Kate placed her hand lightly upon Linda’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  Linda sighed and shook her head, still gazing at the silent images on the television screen before her. “I can’t do this anymore,” she said. Her voice was quiet and void of emotion.

  Kate felt Linda’s shoulders heaving as she began to sob. “I know,” she said empathetically.

  “I can’t live like this anymore,” Linda said. “I hate coming home because I never know what I’m gonna find. Every morning, I wait to see if she’s gonna wake up, or if this is the day.” When she finally looked up at Kate, tears were flowing down her cheeks, but she seemed to lack either the strength or the will to wipe them away. “I’m really sorry about your brother,” she said. “He used to come over here pretty often, and he was a great guy, and I feel terrible about what happened to him. I really do. But I didn’t sign up for this.”

  It was time to lift that burden, Kate knew, but she had no way of knowing how Tracy would handle the news. It would be a leap of faith she no longer had any choice but to take.

  On that Friday morning, James Perkins was seated at his kitchen table, looking out over the harbor just as he’d done every morning since he arrived in Southwest Harbor. When the phone rang, he assumed it would be Jean. He was surprised to hear Kate’s voice.

  “Hey, Sis,” he said cheerfully.

  “We need to talk,” Kate said. Her tone was dark and he immediately assumed she must be calling with news about their father.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. “Is it Dad?”

  “No,” Kate said. “It’s Tracy.” She peered down the hallway at the two closed bedroom doors. Almost an hour earlier, Linda had taken her advice and was finally getting some sleep; Tracy had yet to emerge from her bedroom. “It’s time to tell her.”

  “What happened?” James asked. “Is she okay?”

  “For now,” Kate said. “But she’s giving up, Edward. We got here in time last night, but only because we were lucky.”

  Kate described the events of the previous evening. When she finished, she waited for her brother to speak, but there was only silence. James was unprepared for this news. Even though Kate had warned him about Tracy’s state of mind and her morbid fascination with death when she’d visited a few weeks earlier, he’d taken Kate’s silence on the subject since then as a sign that perhaps Tracy had improved. Now he understood that not to be true at all. He was suddenly vaguely aware of Kate’s voice speaking his name.

  “Edward,” she repeated, trying not to raise her voice. “Are you still there?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m here.”

  “It’s time to tell her the truth,” she said again.

  James considered the magnitude of the decision he was about to make, but he knew he had no choice. “I know,” he said sadly. “But before you do, you need to make her promise that she won’t tell anyone.”

  “I understand,” Kate assured him.

  He tried to imagine for a moment how that conversation might go. “How do you think she’ll take it?” James asked.

  “I don’t know,” Kate said. “Part of me wants to say that she’d forgive you for anything, but she’s been through hell. There’s just no way to know.”

  He knew Kate was right. “Call me when it’s done,” James said. “And don’t tell her where I am. Not yet.”

  “Okay,” Kate promised. “But you know she’ll want to see you.”

  “I know,” James said. “When you call me later, I’ll tell you where.”

  After speaking to Kate, James tried to busy himself by tidying up his apartment, straightening what few possessions he had, and trying not to think about the fact that soon his secret would be out. After an hour had passed without any word, he began to grow restless, and he set up the mitre saw he'd borrowed from Peter and began cutting and fitting some of the missing baseboard molding, stopping frequently to listen for the ringing of the telephone.

  Hearing the familiar high-pitched whine of the saw filtering out of the upstairs apartment reminded Ruth Kennedy of the many times she’d listened to her husband diligently working in the apartment, never realizing that he wouldn’t live to see his project through to completion. She couldn’t resist visiting James to investigate.

  Although James didn’t realize it at the time, Ruth had spent Thanksgiving alone in her big empty house. She watched the parades on television in the morning, and later she made herself a sandwich with some of the turkey breast she’d purchased at Sawyer's Market the day before. In the afternoon, she attempted to pass the time by carrying the Christmas ornaments down from the attic and sorting through them, but it was always Henry who enjoyed decorating the house, and before long she simply set the boxes aside for another day. As darkness fell, she began watching out the window for James’s return, hoping he would stop by for at least a short visit, and maybe a piece of pie, but she dozed off before he returned from his dinner with Langstons. By noon on Friday, Ruth was eager for company.

  James was happy to stop what he was doing to spend time with Ruth, although she sensed from the moment she arrived that he was distracted. They sat together on the couch for a short time. James got up frequently, moving about the apartment, nervously straightening something one moment only to return it to the way it was a moment later.

  “Is everything okay, James?” Ruth asked pleasantly. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind."

  James shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he said. “A friend of mine has been sick, and I’m waiting for a call to find out how she’s doing.”

  He glanced at his watch, as he’d done approximately every five minutes since Ruth arrived. He felt certain that Kate must have told Tracy by then, and he tried to imagine Tracy’s reaction to the news. Was she elated or angry, or perhaps both? Would she keep his secret or expose him?

  Even though he’d been waiting for the phone to ring, when it finally did, it startled him. As he expected, it was Kate

  “Did you talk to her?” he asked anxiously.

  “She wants to see you,” Kate said.

  “I figured,” James said. He watched Ruth as she wandered about the apartment looking over his work. He turned away from her and whispered into the phone. “Do you think she’ll keep it to herself?” James asked.

  “Yes,” Kate said. “For whatever reason, she loves you. She won’t tell anyone. She promised me.” Her voice was calm, and reassuring. “But she wants to see you right away.”

  “Did you tell her where I am?” James asked. He had visions of Tracy appearing on his doorstep.

  “No,” Kate said. “She has no idea.”

  During the hours he'd spent waiting for Kate's call that morning, James thought about where they could meet. He remembered the many long drives he and Tracy had shared to and from college. Many times he dropped Tracy at her home in South Portland, but just as often— at least until he started dating Gloria— he brought Tracy to Rhode Island with him when he went home for a weekend. He fondly remembered the hours they spent talking in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

  They always made a point of stopping in Freeport. Across from L.L. Bean was a small market with a sandwich counter that always seemed to be open whenever they passed through town, regardless of the hour. They always stopped in for a sandwich or a slice of apple pie before they continued on with the rest of the drive.

  “Bring her to Freeport,” James told Kate. “We can meet at the market where we always stopped back in college.”

  “Where is it?” Kate asked.

  “She knows the one I mean,” James said. “Right on Main Street.” He thought for a moment.
“But not today. She needs to sober up, and you need to get some sleep.”

  The truth was he wanted another day to decide what he was going to say to Tracy when he saw her. This had all come at him so fast, and he spent so much of the last twelve hours worried about how Tracy would handle the shock of learning that he was still alive that he never considered what he would say to her when they met.

  “It’ll take you about four hours to get there,” James said. “I’ll meet you at two o’clock.”

  “You better be there,” Kate warned.

  “I’ll be there,” James assured her.

  Kate was about to hang up when she heard James call out her name. “What’s up?”

  “When you talk to her again,” James said, “tell her I can’t wait to see her.”

  Kate let out a quick laugh. “You’re a lying sack of shit,” she said. “You’re scared shitless!”

  James smiled. “Tell her anyway, okay?”

  “Edward,” Kate said before he could hang up. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  He sighed. “Let’s hope so.”

  On Saturday morning, he decided to get an early start. The weather forecast called for the first significant snow storm of the season to reach the Maine coast by noon. In the best of conditions, the drive from Southwest Harbor to Freeport took about four hours; with the impending snow, it was bound to take longer. Even so, James always enjoyed the ride down Coastal Route One, which hugged the coast for the first half of the trip south, occasionally offering postcard views of the sea, before peeling away in Rockland for a stretch. So even with the threat of foul weather, James decided he would follow the coast as opposed to the more reliable route along the interstate from Bangor to Freeport.

  As he drove through Ellsworth, the overcast sky turned gray and ominous, but peering out at the familiar landmarks, he smiled as he remembered the many excursions that had led him down these same roads when he was a student at the University in Orono.

  He remembered his first trip to Bar Harbor during the spring of his freshman year. It was late on a Saturday night on the weekend before final exams when his roommate, Ethan, suggested a road trip. Ethan, Tracy, and Edward piled into Ethan’s 1967 Chevy Impala, arriving at the top of Cadillac Mountain shortly after midnight. To keep warm, the three of them huddled together in the back seat under a foul-smelling blanket that Ethan kept in his trunk. Just before dawn, they ventured out onto the granite ledge overlooking Frenchman’s Bay and watched as the sun rose out of the ocean.

  They hadn’t even made it out of Bar Harbor on their way home when Ethan’s car broke down. They coasted into a service station, which wouldn't open for two hours, and they dozed in the car until an attendant finally tapped on the window. When they learned that the car couldn’t be repaired until Monday, they had no choice but to leave it and hitchhike back to school.

  It took most of the day to get back to Orono— along with another trip the following weekend to retrieve Ethan’s car— but they all agreed they wouldn’t have missed it for anything. More than a decade later, James still felt the same. That was the weekend they realized they would be friends forever. It was a kind of unspoken promise they made to each other with the best of intentions, the kind made with all the wistful optimism of youth that rarely comes to pass.

  Ethan moved to California shortly after they graduated, and after a few letters, they drifted apart until all that was left of their friendship was a hastily scribbled note in a Christmas card each year. A few years back, even those just stopped. But passing through Ellsworth now, he found himself smiling as he remembered his old friends laughing and joking on the side of this same road as they made their way back to school.

  By the time James passed over the Penobscot Narrows Bridge in Bucksport, the snow had begun to fall, the dusting of snow drifted across the road in front of him, swirling like smoke in the wake of the cars he passed. It became heavier as he passed the string of antique shops in Searsport and Belfast, and by the time he reached Lincolnville, he couldn’t even see the outline of Isleboro Island through the haze and the falling snow.

  In Camden, he slowed as he drove past the row of pretty shops that lined Main Street. It was one of his favorite towns along the Maine coast. Were it not for the fear that he’d be more conspicuous in that town, he might have chosen to settle there. He knew several people from college who had grown up in Camden and Rockport. Over the years, he’d also encouraged friends from Rhode Island to visit the area. A few of them had fallen in love with the town— as he’d assured them they would— and still made regular pilgrimages in the summer and fall. None of them ventured as far up the coast as Southwest Harbor, but Camden was more accessible to them, making a chance meeting there with someone from his previous life far more likely.

  As he drove through town, James couldn’t help but glance to his left and look at the park overlooking Camden Harbor, which reminded him of his first visit to Camden with Karen Winslow, a girl he’d dated during his sophomore year at Orono. His view this time was obscured by the heavy snow, but his memory of the place, and of Karen, was as clear as ever.

  Karen had grown up in Camden, and she brought him home one weekend in April of their sophomore year to introduce him to her home town and to meet her parents. He immediately fell in love with the town, and with Karen. She brought him to the park that Saturday evening where they sat on a bench as the sun dropped low behind the western hills, the harbor and the schooners that were moored there cast with a warm, golden light. It was an image that remained with him ever since, long after he and Karen went their separate ways.

  Every town he passed seemed to hold some memory for him, and he enjoyed the drive so much on that snowy morning in November, that he almost forgot about the scene that awaited him in Freeport. It wasn’t until he passed the State Prison in Thomaston that he suddenly remembered his reason for coming; it served as a grim reminder of what his future might hold if his meeting with Tracy went poorly.

  He sped up and hurried through town, not slowing down until he passed through Warren, his wipers beating furiously against the snow which was accumulating on the road in front of him. By the time he reached Freeport, almost three inches of snow had fallen, and he knew that Kate, who hated driving in the snow, would be cursing him for convincing her to drive all the way to Freeport during the first real blizzard of the season.

  About the time James arrived in Freeport, Kate was traveling north through Portland, pushing forward through the storm, which seemed to be growing stronger with every mile. The number of cars on the highway became more sparse as the storm intensified, and as the road turned from a pale gray beneath the first dusting of snow to a thick blanket of white, Kate grew more anxious at the wheel. Ever since they reached the Maine border, she’d asked Tracy every few minutes if she thought they should turn back.

  “We’re closer to Freeport than we are to home,” Tracy told her. “Besides, I want to see Edward. We told him we’d be there.” She was restless with anticipation, chattering incessantly as they worked their way up the coast and watching the horizon wide-eyed as if she expected him to appear around every curve.

  As they entered Freeport, Tracy grew quiet. She suddenly became aware of the radio, and she reached over and turned it off. The only sound was that of the tires upon the road and the windshield wipers slapping away at the falling snow.

  “What if he doesn’t show?” Tracy finally asked.

  “Don’t worry,” Kate said. “He’ll be there.”

  Tracy nodded, but Kate could tell by her expression that she was still concerned.

  James arrived at the little market early, hoping to have time to work out what he would say to Tracy when she arrived. He sat at the lunch counter, which surrounded the grill on four sides at the center of the store, and he nibbled on a grilled cheese sandwich, as he watched the door for Tracy’s and Kate’s arrival. He looked at his watch; it was almost two-thirty. He ordered another cup of coffee, and co
ntinued watching the door.

  He saw Kate first. She appeared outside the door suddenly as if she’d been running, and she squinted inside, hoping to see him through the glass. It was only after Kate opened the door and stepped inside that he spotted Tracy, and he felt himself suddenly unable to breathe as he waited for her to spot him at the counter. When she did, her face brightened.

  “Oh my God!” she squealed.

  Kate looked nervously about the market as Tracy ran toward her brother, her wet shoes slipping on the worn wooden floor as she maneuvered around the counter. James stood up just as Tracy collided with him, knocking him back onto his stool. As he hugged her, he peered over her shoulder at Kate, still standing just inside the door, brushing the snow from her hair and shoulders, and gazing uncertainly at the scene unfolding before her.

  In the midst of that embrace, James was reminded of all the years they’d spent together, and all the times he’d comforted her when she came to him despairing over one thing or another. Edward had a knack for always finding a way to comfort her. It made her feel safe; it made him feel valuable.

  The woman who had served him his sandwich watched them from across the counter, and noticing the attention she was paying them, James began to draw away from Tracy. He held her by the shoulders, hoping she would withdraw from their embrace, but she clung to him and continued to weep. He smiled self-consciously at the woman behind the counter, and she turned away.

  “Trace,” James whispered. “Everything’s okay. Take a breath.”

  He could hear Tracy sniffling back her tears, and drawing long, deep breaths, trying to compose herself. When she finally drew away, he smiled warmly at her. Tracy’s face was wet with tears, and her makeup was smeared around her eyes and her cheeks. James picked up a clean napkin and dabbed gently at her face.

  “I must look awful,” Tracy said, covering her face with her hands.