Project Pallid

by Christopher Hoskins

  “Well, aren’t you going to answer the door?” Mom yelled from the kitchen as she and Nicole spooned stuffing and carrots into colorful serving bowls.

  “Do I have to?”

  “Damian.” Her reply was resolute.

  With a hard swallow, I turned to the door, unlatched it hesitantly, and pulled it open. Like each time before, I was overwhelmed by his presence. Mr. Laverdier was neatly dressed in what must’ve been a custom suit and tie (they don’t come off the rack in that size). Its dark color paired well with his dark eyes and his even darker soul. His large hand extended toward me; his expression was flat and firm.

  “Good evening, Damian. May we come in?”

  I could see Catee standing behind him, but I couldn’t see her face. Anxious for that and for nothing else, I shook his hand and invited him inside, simply to get him out of my way.

  I hardly made eye contact with the fixed glare he delivered, before he released the too-firm grip he held on my hand and stepped by me.

  “Catee!” I said, in hushed enthusiasm.

  “Damian!” Her arms shot out, and she ran forward to hug me. Mr. Laverdier shot a prolonged look of disapproval our way before my mom spotted and greeted him from the kitchen. My dad rounded the corner, adjusting his fresh, after-work clothes, and reintroduced himself. Immediately, Mr. Laverdier made the connection, and the two began a lively reminiscence of their first, un-lively encounter.

  “What’s been happening?” I asked quietly, still standing outside.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. He’s barely said a word to me; he hasn’t even left the house! I come out for meals, but that’s it. He said he doesn’t want to look at me right now. That I’ve got no loyalty. That I make him sick.”

  “So, what? He’s going to keep you locked up forever now?”

  “No. He said I was going back to school tomorrow and that it was my last chance. That if I mess up again, I’m being shipped off to private school.”

  “He can’t do that!”

  “Yes, he can, Damian. We’re fourteen. Remember? He can do whatever he wants.” The Catee I was hearing was sounding less and less like the confident girl I’d first met. Then again, I’d learned enough since then to know that most of that girl wasn’t the real Catee at all. The real Catee was the one standing in front of me—a girl who’d already experienced more than her share, but who’d learned to show the world someone else.

  “Damian, you and Catee come in here and shut that door!” Mom yelled.

  “Come on. Get in here.” I ushered her in and closed it behind us. And against every fiber of my being, I sealed her parasitic father inside.

  And with my sanctuary gone, there’d be no escaping him until the evils of his masterful mind turned biblical verse.

  The entire dinner was picturesque: like, Norman Rockwell perfect. We passed around dishes and stories were told. There was laughter, mournful moments, and gratitude exchanged for the delicious, home-cooked meal. But everyone at the table understood and felt the awkwardness of conversations that lingered at the edge of discussion. Catee and I, who’d been assigned to opposite sides of the table, looked at each other with mixed-dread and excited-carnality for what lay ahead.

  And then my mom introduced Mr. Laverdier to her High and Low sharing. She led off and described how the Low of her day was leaving her coupon box behind at the grocery store and losing it forever. Then she shared how Family Dinner was her High, and that she was grateful to finally be able to meet the family of her son’s girlfriend.

  Her choice of words made Mr. Laverdier tick. He sneered at Catee, to his left, then shared the same sentiment with me, across the table. I noticed it and hoped my family had, too. But, consumed with their meals, they saw and said nothing.

  My sister was next up, and she said something that was quickly lost in the rolling static of my mind. My dad followed to share that he’d fallen behind at the garage and that he was barely keeping his head above water. He ended with his High: that Mike would be picking up some extra hours, and that he’d be able to pick up some of the slack and take care of their backlogged jobs.

  “It’ll be nice to slow down some and get back to a regular routine. It feels like I’ve spent every waking moment at the shop, lately. Like I haven’t been able to see any of my family … like, I’ve been missing out,” he shared. “So my High is that I’ll be able to get back to normal hours soon, and I’ll be able to spend more time at home. As a family man, you can understand that, right David?” Dad asked, luring Mr. Laverdier into discussion.

  “I know exactly what you’re talking about, Darryl.” His methodic reply came without hesitation. “Ever since my wife Sarah passed away, Catee here’s been my whole world. It was hard for us when it first happened—even harder when I got reassigned to Madison General—but we’ve settled pretty nicely here, and we’re enjoying it quite a bit. Isn’t that right, Catee?” There was only one acceptable response to his prompt.

  “Right, Dad. Loving it.” It came from her with limited enthusiasm.

  “And where were you before here?” Mom jumped from her end of the table.

  “Baltimore. We moved from Baltimore, Martha.”

  “And you worked for the hospital there, too?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  I stopped chewing and locked eyes with Catee, who’d looked up to simultaneously lock hers with mine. He was lying. We’d read the words ourselves. He worked for that Crosspoint Pharmaceuticals place when they were back in Baltimore. He wasn’t working at any hospital. Did his transfer here really mean he had to lie to my parents about everything?

  “And is that where you’re from?” Mom continued.

  “Born and raised. That’s where I met Sarah, and that’s where we settled down. Eventually, we had Catee there, too,” he reached to affectionately run his hand over her head, “and life couldn’t have been sweeter. I worked regular hours, and I got the job done on both fronts: home and work. We lived a good life, back when Catee’s mom was alive.”

  I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. He was spitting bold-faced lies. Catee told me about all the places they’d been shipped off to, and that they eventually settled in Baltimore, where her dad was completely disenfranchised from her. None of what he was saying was true. None of how he was acting was real. It was all a show, put on for my parents, and it was making Catee and me look like the bad guys—like everything we’d seen and read was entirely made up. I wanted to jump up, scream, and call him a liar to his face, but I understood the inevitably grave outcome of that, so I shut my mouth instead.

  I couldn't even look up to show my disdain, knowing the satisfaction he’d take from the helplessness of my situation and the degenerative stare I’d likely get in return.

  “So how long did you work at the hospital in Baltimore for?” Mom continued her probe.

  “All Catee’s life. So that’s what … fourteen years? That seems about right.”

  “And what brought you this far North? I know it can’t be these New England winters …” My dad joined my mom’s inquiry.

  “Well, it was a promotion of sorts.”

  LIAR! My head screamed so loudly, I worried everyone else might hear it. I looked nervously around but saw no reactions.

  “They’ve got a project they’ve been working on up here, and they needed some expertise. I suppose I was the right guy for the job. Soon after Catee’s mom passed, I got the reassignment, and it seemed like a fine opportunity for us to make a fresh start and to lay down some new roots. So, I packed us up, and we made the move to Madison.”

  He was completely pulling the wool over my parents’ eyes by painting an entirely false picture of himself. The man sitting at our table didn’t care about his family anymore. His family was Catee. And while he should’ve been protecting her, he was treating her like a stranger, and now like a hostage. He wasn’t anything like the person he was putting on display for my parents—nothing at all.

  “Well, you and your wife raised a wonderful daughter
, David. She’s been a pleasure to have in our home, and we’re grateful you’ve allowed her to become part of our family, too.”

  I forgot to mention to Mom that Mr. Laverdier didn’t know about Catee coming to our family dinners. And as far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever stepped foot in our house. The look on his face was unsettling as he processed her words and turned to Catee.

  “You’ve been coming here?” His voice turned authoritative and stern.

  Finally! Now everyone’s going to see what he’s really like! Now he’s finally going to snap, and everyone’s going to see what a monster he is! I thought and hoped.

  “Yeah, Dad. A few times. Damian’s mom invited me to dinner a few times. We took the bus here and she brought me home after. You’ve been so busy at work lately that I didn’t think it’d be a problem,” she spoke sheepishly.

  Both my parents, and even Nicole, looked up with mild alarm, sensing the tension that had suddenly consumed the Laverdiers’ side of the table. They recognized how my mom’s casual statement was a revelation for Catee’s dad, and they suspected, quite rightly, that it wouldn’t go over so well.

  Mr. Laverdier took a deep, cleansing breath before he laid down his fork. His interlocked fingers rose to touch his nose, and he contemplatively closed his eyes before he audibly exhaled and continued.

  “I want to thank the two of you for that, Martha and Darryl. For inviting Catee here to spend time with your family when hers has been so disjointed. I can’t do anything to bring back her mother, and since we got here, I’ve been so consumed with my work at the hospital that I haven’t been able to give her the attention or support she needs right now. I’m sorry for that, Catee,” he turned to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. And I thank you folks,” he said, with a look back and forth between my parents, “for inviting my daughter into your home.”

  “Really, David, it’s been our plea—”

  “But,” Mr. Laverdier interrupted my mom, “things will be different from this point forward. Things will be very different,” he spoke with absolution and with a look back to Catee. “You see,” he continued, “if I can jump into your High and Low sharing, I’d like to start with my Low.”

  “You’d better,” Nicole spoke up. “Mom get’s a little fanatic about ending on a good note.”

  Mom nodded her head in approval.

  “Well,” he continued, “the Low for me is a little bigger than a one day low. Actually, it’s been a four-day low, now.” Nobody said a word to disrupt the suspense that hung heavy in the air. “Madison General let me go this past week.” Catee and I looked to each other with shared confusion: Why was he let go? Did it have something to do with his long hours? And we looked to each other with shared clarity: That’s why he suddenly had time to stand guard at their house!

  “That’s terrible to hear! What, with you making the move all this way,” Mom sympathized. “Can I ask why?”

  “Martha, that’s none of our business,” Dad reprimanded her curiosity from the other end of the table.

  “No, no. That’s quite all right. Quite all right. I don’t mind sharing. It had nothing to do with me, in fact. The hospital simply made some cuts to streamline operations, and being the newest on payroll, I was one of the first to be let go. It was nothing personal. Nothing reflective of my work. It’s simply business as usual in a down economy. I can’t hold any grudges with that,” he lied. “I’ve just got to press forward to make things work from here.”

  “We’re sorry to hear that, David. Please, let Darryl or me know if there’s anything we can do to help.” My dad looked to her with appropriate concern for extending such open-ended offerings to someone who’d been a virtual stranger, only two hours before. Mom’s responsive look reverted his to his plate.

  “That’s fine, Martha. That’s just fine. I appreciate your offer, but Catee and I will be just fine. In fact, we’ve been better than ever since it happened. It’s given us time to finally reconnect since the passing of her mother.”

  I knew it was a lie. Catee knew it was a lie. My parents should have known it was a lie, but we were slowly losing them to her dad’s conniving storytelling. And as much as I wanted to interrupt and shut it down, my hands were tied. It was a no-win situation for Catee and me. My only available maneuver would be to talk with my parents about it in private, later on.

  “So, my High, Mr. Laverdier continued, “is that we’re looking at another place, on the outskirts of town—in Damariscotta.”

  “I’ve got some older couples out there who bring their cars into the garage a few times a year.” Dad, having finished his meal, acknowledged the spot-of-a-town that’d been referenced. Catee looked back and forth between the two of them, obviously hearing about it for the first time. Her look was panicked.

  “Yup. It’s a little place, just about in the middle of nowhere. It’s on a small pond, totally surrounded by trees, with only seasonal neighbors for miles. It’s the perfect spot for Catee and me to finally settle and regroup. Isn’t that right, Catee?”

  “What? Where?! We’re moving again!?” Her words were no longer subservient. She’d rediscovered her voice—that part of her character that first drew me to her, months before. “Where am I going to go to school??” she asked. “Are you pulling me from Madison?”

  “No, no, Catee,” he said, patting her knee under the table. “It’s not until the end of the school year. Please, don’t worry. I’d never take you away from—”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Catee, we’ll talk more about this la—”

  “NO. No, we won’t. I’m NOT going!”

  “We will talk about this later.” His drawn-out words were delivered sternly. They came with a razor-like edge that lacerated Catee and slumped her back in her chair, injured and defeated.

  “Please, pardon my daughter,” Mr. Laverdier readdressed my parents. “This is the first she’s hearing of this and clearly, it’s something the two of us are going to have to talk more about LATER.” He emphasized his final word and looked back to Catee with it. “But I think it’s something we’ll both agree is safest for the two of us.”

  The selection and gravity of his words went unnoticed at the time. No one could have foreseen what was happening back then. The little we’d learned lent almost no perspective to the magnitude of his plan. No one understood the power of a brilliant mind, bent on revenge, and driven by irrepressible sorrow.

  And that’s what makes it even more disgusting to remember that I actually apologized to him. That, by the time my turn to share came, the prompt had been dancing on the tip of my mom’s tongue for nearly an hour. And, after all he’d revealed, it was something she thought I especially owed him. And, because it was part of the agreement I’d made with her, I couldn’t take it back.

  My Low that day was a lie of my own as I falsely shared shame for not respecting his home and his wishes. I apologized for being in his house uninvited, and for not giving Catee the space he’d specifically requested I give her. I resented every word as I said them; they tasted filthy and disgusting, but I delivered them anyhow.

  His look of sick satisfaction almost made me barf.

  And when dinner came to an end, Mr. Laverdier bowed back out the door, whisking Catee away before we had any time to talk. There was so much to discuss, to fume over, to mount plans to retaliate against, but we were entirely without arms. The distance between us held us captive—mile-wise and parentally—and without the caving of one of the two, that’s how we’d remain.

  The complete disdain I felt toward her dad—the utter hatred for his two-sidedness and his treatment of us—made me want to take him down even more. To do something that would make him feel the suffering I was feeling because of his unnecessary immersion into his daughter’s life—our life—and for his inexplicable need to keep us apart.

  Closing the door behind him, I vowed he wouldn’t be an obstacle anymore.

  Not in that life.

&n
bsp; Not in this life.

  And as long as I have mine, he should worry for his.

  May 10th: Day 9

  Those are becoming the only thoughts that rule my head now. Thinking of him and how it’s because of him, that all this happened. That I’m having to make this choice. Having to decide what to do next as I hover over something that was once my dad.

  His skin is still warm and lifelike, but there’s no life left in it. I’m not sure when it left. Was it minutes ago, with my knife in his eye? Or was it back at the garage, when they overtook him? I can’t say, because I honestly don’t know. Maybe I’m the one who’s ultimately responsible, especially if there’s a cure now. But he would’ve killed me if I hadn’t. I didn’t have a choice. Mr. Laverdier didn’t leave me one.

  The door above is still open and no matter what, it’s my first priority. It doesn’t matter what I do with my dad’s body; nothing will stop others from finding me if I don’t secure it fast.

  But how much longer can I expect to stay hidden when I’ve already been discovered? Then again, Dad knew about this place—others don’t. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe I’m just as hidden as I was before. If I can only get that door closed, maybe I can still wait them out.

  I don’t know what a body does, especially after days of decomposition, but I can’t imagine it’s a good thing, and I just want it out of here. Even if it doesn’t start to stink, I can’t handle looking at him much longer.

  I wipe the tears that blur my eyes, reposition to my dad’s head, and grab onto his armpits. In a gravel-grinding semi-circle, I turn and drag him to the bottom of the stairs. I adjust my grip and, quiet as possible, tug his body up the first two steps.

  At the third, gravity works against me. In spite of his emaciation, my dad’s not an easy haul—especially not when I’m doing it through sobbing, clouded vision.