Fractured

by Catherine McKenzie

  I clicked my teeth together. I’d said the same thing myself many times. If I felt something, then it made it true. It was the other person’s problem if they didn’t agree. But sitting on the other end of it, I saw my mistake. Just because I felt something didn’t mean the person who had caused the feeling had done anything wrong.

  It could, literally, be all about me.

  I stood up. “I think I’m going to go home.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

  “I don’t think there’s anything I can say that’s going to fix what’s going on in your life. If you want me to listen, I’m here. But because things are shit, or I have something you don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t be having a shitty time, too. I don’t want to be in some misery competition with you.”

  “I’m not competing with you.”

  “Right. So, there’s no point in discussing this. Not now.”

  Susan’s mouth hung open. I knew I wasn’t being fair, in a way, but Jesus: Hadn’t I been through enough lately? I couldn’t even find my own happiness. Did I have to feel guilty for someone else’s loss, too?

  She stood next to me. I thought for a minute, trying to decide what the quickest way back was. I looked up the hill. Chris Dunbar was standing at the top of the street with his arm slung across Ashley’s shoulder. We made eye contact for a moment, then he spun her around and back up the way they’d come.

  I checked my watch. It was late—after ten—and a school night. I knew neither of them had permission to be out this late, even if Cindy’s ridiculous curfew wasn’t being respected. And yet, if I marched after them, or told on them to their parents, would I get thanked?

  Not bloody likely.

  “What is it?” Susan asked.

  “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  I started walking downhill and Susan followed after me. We didn’t say another word till we got to the front of her house.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Let me make it up to you tomorrow. Tomorrow night, bring the kids over and we’ll have dinner. Daniel’s taken the kids to his parents.”

  “He’s not going to be in court with you tomorrow?”

  “His mom’s not doing well.”

  “You didn’t say.”

  You see? I wanted to say. I don’t say everything. I haven’t placed all of my burdens on you.

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good luck.”

  “I don’t believe in luck.”

  “Break a leg, then.”

  “That, I think I can do.”

  The next morning started like any other. I rose, I dressed, I moved soundlessly through the house, even though I had it to myself. With Daniel away, I decided to risk a run, so I put on my running shoes and gathered Sandy’s leash.

  I could tell it was hot. Though our air-conditioning kept the house at an even seventy degrees, the air felt wet. There hadn’t been a break in the heat for weeks. Every day contained the same heavy blue sky, and sweat broke out the moment you stepped outside. The trees looked limp, and water-usage restrictions had been put in place, and then restricted again. Cindy was having a field day making sure they were being enforced.

  Though I felt hungover from the fight with Susan, and nervous about the day in court coming up (our lawyer had decided to bring a motion to dismiss, based on the fact that the action wasn’t driven by facts, but emotion), I had no premonition about the scene waiting for me outside.

  But there John and Hanna stood, he in his running clothes and she in her short pajamas, having an argument. I thought about going back into the house, but decided, against my better judgment, to tell them what I’d seen when I got up to go to the bathroom a couple of hours earlier, after I realized they were talking about Chris. I’d seen him moving stealthily to get into Hanna’s car, driving up the street and picking Ashley up. What had happened between when I’d seen them together at ten and again at three? Had they never gone home? And why didn’t he use John’s car, the silent-running Prius?

  I’d decided to stay out of it. Not my family, not my problems, not my rules to enforce. Besides, they were probably going off to have sex somewhere, and I didn’t need to interfere with that. I hoped Sam would find a more comfortable place to sleep with his girlfriends in the future. Then I laughed, because this thought was so ordinary I couldn’t help it. When I climbed back into bed, I wished Daniel was there so I could cuddle into his back, hungry for the warmth of him despite the heat pushing at the windows. I hadn’t wanted him to take the kids with him to Tacoma, but he wanted them to say good-bye to his mother, if it came to that, and how could I refuse?

  But that morning, seeing the anguish on Hanna’s face, I knew I had to speak up, whether she wanted to hear what I had to say or not. Whatever they might’ve thought of me, surely they knew I wouldn’t make something like that up. Besides, the car was gone, as was Chris, apparently. The proof was there.

  After I told them what I knew, I waited for them to walk down the street, then began my run. If our street wasn’t basically a dead end, I would’ve run in another direction.

  But it was basically a dead end.

  How dead, I didn’t even know yet.

  Gut Punch

  John

  Two months ago

  Cindy did not react well to the news that we didn’t know where Chris and Ashley were. Or that they’d driven off in Hanna’s car. When she heard the source of that piece of information, her face puckered like she’d swallowed something sour.

  “Why didn’t she stop them?” Cindy said. “Or call you to tell you?”

  “It was the middle of the night,” I said, feeling guilty, not wanting to even look at Hanna. There I was again, defending her. “She’s not their parents.”

  “That is so typical. Anyone else would tell the parents immediately if they saw two teenagers running off in the night . . . oh, goodness.”

  Cindy broke down. Paul put his arm around her shoulder.

  “They’re being kids,” he said bravely, patting her neck. “It’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

  “Well, we certainly don’t know that anything’s wrong,” Hanna said, shifting into her lawyer mode. Problem solver. “So let’s work with the facts we have.” She looked at her watch. It was ten after six. “They’ve been gone for about three hours. Where could they have gone?”

  “They could be anywhere,” Cindy said. “We should call the police.”

  “I’m not sure that’s necessary yet. Have you called Ashley?” I asked.

  “She’s not picking up.”

  “Chris, either.”

  Cindy sobbed again.

  “They’re not picking up because it’s us calling,” I said. “They know they’re in trouble.”

  “Oh, they’re in trouble all right,” Hanna said.

  “This isn’t getting us anywhere,” I said. “Let’s think, where have they gone in the past? Where do kids go these days?”

  I thought about my own boyhood. All those nights at Alms Park and Ault Park, depending on where the wind took us. Alms was mostly for hanging out. The woods at Ault were where you’d lay out a blanket to get laid or get high—sometimes both.

  “Maybe they’re in Ault Park?” I ventured.

  Thankfully, Cindy hadn’t grown up in Cincinnati, so she didn’t quite grasp what I was referring to. But both Paul and Hanna gave me a look.

  “Why would they go there?”

  “Now, honey,” Paul said.

  “No, no, no. Ashley’s a good girl.”

  “And Chris is a good boy,” I said. “But they’re almost sixteen . . .”

  Cindy’s hand rose to her mouth. I thought she might be sick.

  “Mom, Dad!”

  Becky was running down the street waving something above her
head. She had a slight hitch in her step, left over from when she’d broken her leg on my birthday.

  “What is it, sweetheart? What are you doing out of the house?”

  “I heard you guys outside my window. You woke me up.”

  “Why did you run down here?” Hanna asked. “Do you know something?”

  She thrust her phone at me. “Ashley posted a picture.”

  I took it. Ashley had indeed posted a picture a few minutes before. She was sitting on a red brick wall, her face half in the early light. A dark shadow sat next to her. Chris.

  “It doesn’t say where they are,” Hanna said.

  “I know where that is,” I said.

  “Where are they?” Cindy asked. “Where’s my daughter?”

  “In the Authors Grove.”

  It was Julie who first mentioned the Authors Grove to me. She’d seen it on a map before she moved here. It appealed to her. She hadn’t been able to find it the first few times she ran in Eden Park, and soon stopped looking. Did I know where it was?

  Despite living near the park for more than ten years, I hadn’t even heard of it. I said I’d ask around, then I forgot about it until one bored day at home. I typed the words into Google. The third hit was a blog post by a woman who was chronicling her newly single days in Cincinnati. She, too, had been curious about the Authors Grove, and went to the trouble to unearth its history. The post was written a couple of days before I went looking. Serendipity.

  The monument was a ruin now, but probably still worth taking a look at. I was excited to tell Julie about it. Figured I’d surprise her on our next run. Then I kissed her.

  I checked it out myself, anyway. One day I followed the signposts the blogger wrote about and found the dilapidated structure. I hung out there for a bit, contemplating life, checking out of my problems. So when I saw the photo, I knew where Ashley had taken it.

  I took off running. I’m not sure what drove me. The fact that Chris and Ashley were in the park, a ten-minute jog away, should’ve calmed us all down. But instead my heart was racing. Not from the pace I was pushing myself to. Something else.

  I realized what it was when I got to Parkside and saw the back of her head, her ponytail bobbing. The efficient way her arms pumped at her side. Sandy trotting next to her. She’d gotten faster since we’d stopped running together, but I could still catch up.

  Idiot, I thought. With everything you know about her now, you’re still excited for a moment alone with her.

  She turned on Martin Drive, then stopped suddenly and whirled around, her hand clutching something around her neck. Sandy barked twice.

  “John!”

  “Yes, it’s okay. It’s me.”

  I reached out my hand to Sandy. She gave it a tentative sniff, as if she too couldn’t quite believe her senses.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Chris and Ashley are in the Authors Grove.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Ashley posted a picture. I recognized it.”

  She looked away. “I thought you didn’t—forget it. So, that means . . . they’re okay?”

  “I think so. At least physically.”

  “I guess they’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

  “Chris will be. I’ve got to get going.”

  I ran past her and she joined up with me, Sandy on her other side.

  Our rhythms matched. An easy fit.

  “How did Cindy and Paul react?” she asked.

  “About how you’d expect.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be Ashley. For many reasons.”

  “Ashley’s all right,” I said.

  “Hasn’t she been breaking Chris’s heart all over the place? And what was that the other day with the car?”

  “Teenaged drama.”

  “Maybe I should send Melly and Sam to military school. I’d miss them like crazy, but maybe they’d avoid all of this.”

  She swept her hand in front of her. Her nails were bitten down to the quick, her cuticles chewed at.

  “That seems like a drastic solution.”

  “Sometimes that’s what’s needed.”

  We fell into silence. Our feet struck the pavement. Sweat ran down my back.

  We ran into the park and on to the conservatory. I kept thinking she might peel away, but Julie stayed with me.

  “Why do you think they went here so early?” Julie asked.

  “Could be lots of reasons. They seem to have a lot of stuff to work out.”

  “Remember that? Love like that. So intense it made you sick.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in love like that. I loved my family. The thought of anything happening to Hanna or the kids made me feel ill. But sick on love alone? No. Not me.

  “When I got my heart broken for the first time, I threw up for six months,” she said.

  “You were bulimic?”

  “Not on purpose. My body couldn’t take it. Whatever I tried to put in, it rejected. I was literally lovesick.”

  “What happened?”

  “I got over it before I had to be hospitalized.”

  She said this with a laugh, which seemed to fit her mood. Everything about her seemed off that day, like she was half a step out of tune with herself. Like Becky’s gait as she ran toward us with the phone.

  I stopped at the stairs up to the water tower. I ran up them, taking them two at a time. When I got to the top, I cupped my hand over my eyes and scanned the flat plain.

  “It’s right over there.” I pointed. I couldn’t see anyone on the structure, but they might be hunkered down behind it. Or moved on to some other point.

  I started to walk toward it. Red brick and cement with a blank, chiseled book opened across the top. It was surrounded by the remnants of what used to be a thicker grove of trees, each planted in memoriam to a great author. Emerson. Longfellow. Alcott. According to the blogger, the area was “renovated” after the monument became a favorite spot for drug dealers. At the request of those who lived in the area. Cindy’s predecessor, perhaps.

  “Some mighty fine weather we’re having today!” Julie said loudly. I jumped. She held my arm and pointed to the side of the monument. There was a tennis shoe half visible.

  “Probably a bad idea to sneak up on them, right?” she said quietly.

  “Right.”

  She picked up a stick and threw it as far as she could. She let go of the leash. Sandy bounded after.

  “This weather really is delightful,” she said with the volume up.

  I chuckled. If Chris was listening, he’d think we’d taken leave of our senses.

  We rounded the corner. There was a loose tennis shoe, but it was empty.

  “Ah, shit. Chris? Chris!”

  I spun around in a circle, but I couldn’t see him or Ashley anywhere. There was a stand of trees a hundred yards away. Sandy brought the stick back and dropped it at my feet.

  “I found something,” Julie said. She was holding a pink elastic in her hand. “I think this is Ashley’s.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She wears that color all the time.”

  “Chris!” I yelled again. “Christopher Dunbar! If you can hear me, come out right this minute. You’re not in trouble!”

  Julie pointed to the trees. “I saw something moving in there.”

  I ran across the grass. Julie was right. Chris and Ashley were there. Sitting on a blanket leaning up against the base of one of the big trees, just out of view.

  “Chris, what the hell?”

  “Hi, Dad,” he said almost calmly. He looked disheveled, as if he’d slept in the open.

  A sound turned my attention to Ashley. Her face was streaked with tears. She was holding her knees and rocking gently. She was wearing shorts, and her shins had grass stains on them.

  “Are you okay, Ashley?”

  “It’s fine, Dad. Why are you here?”

  “Do you have any idea what time it is? Your mom couldn’t find you this morning. You’re not answerin
g your cell. When we heard you’d driven off with Ashley in the middle of the night . . . where is the car?”

  “The car’s fine, I—what’s she doing here?”

  Julie came up behind me. She waved awkwardly.

  “I ran into her trying to find you.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  He stood angrily. He looked between Ashley and me.

  “What’s going on, Chris?”

  “Is everything all right, Ashley?” Julie asked, squatting down beside her.

  “Get away from her!” Chris yelled.

  Julie jerked her hand back.

  “You’d better tell me what the hell is going on,” I said. “Right now.”

  “Jeez, Dad. I cannot handle this right now.”

  I took a step in his direction.

  “Leave us alone, okay? Can’t you do that?”

  “Only if you tell me why.”

  “I can’t . . . I . . .”

  He looked at Ashley again. She wouldn’t meet his eye. He gave me a fleeting look. Then he bolted.

  “Chris!”

  I ran after him. He was fast. Faster than I knew he could be, youth and adrenaline pushing him past his usual limits.

  He ran directly into the denser woods. I followed him in. A tree branch caught me in the leg, tearing at my skin. Blood ran down my calf, but I couldn’t stop. I was losing on Chris, the energy I’d expended getting to the park making it that much harder for me to catch up. He cut left suddenly. I tripped over my feet and fell to the ground. When I got up, I’d lost sight of him. Then I heard a car door. I ran toward the sound, coming out of the woods and onto the road. Chris was behind the wheel of Hanna’s car. I waved at him to stop, but he drove like he couldn’t see me. I jumped out of the way, yelling after him. He didn’t stop. The car careened around a bend.

  There was nothing I could do.

  I watched the car drive away, lost in my own life.

  Today

  John

  5:00 p.m.

  “What happened next?” the prosecutor asks.

  I reach for the water the clerk placed on the edge of the witness box. I catch the eye of one of the members of the jury. A woman about my age. She looks tired. I’m exhausted.

  But I am not done.

  “I went to find Ashley and Julie.”