by Alona Jarden
"It's true, sir, I do not know your daughter. But, I was once twenty-four years old and went to college myself. She's probably just hanging out with her friends."
"Really?!" I couldn’t help myself. "You went to college and this is what you do in life?" I uttered a sentence that was generally something Kate would have said, rather than me, and stretched a smug smile across my face.
"Okay, sir, this is clearly not an emergency."
"Not yet, you mean. At the very least, you can agree that we can't know that for sure," I corrected her.
"I suggest you try contacting your daughter again and, if you do not succeed in reaching her, call some of her classmates," she completed her advice and hung up with a displeased, 'Good day, sir.’
Did she really think I hadn’t thought of those solutions? It suddenly made sense why she was a 9-1-1 call center operator after she’d learned a profession at college. She probably couldn’t land a job in her field after getting a degree due to her small narrow minded approach to situations.
She wasn’t all wrong. A girl at Kate's age was likely to be surrounded by friends, but Kate had never been interested in her peers. I couldn’t say she’d never had girlfriends in the past, but I could say with certainty that in recent years no one had ever met, or even approached, 'friend' status in her eyes.
Darkness descended on our quiet neighborhood and, yet, my princess had not returned to her kingdom. I had done everything she ever demanded of me and, still, she was not there to see it.
I'd never been in a situation like that one before.
Those simple explanations that other parents could console themselves with in such cases didn’t apply for me.
Kate was much more responsible than that. She would never let her battery drain, nor be caught dead sitting with friends for an unplanned meeting, certainly not without notifying me in advance. To tell the truth, she would prefer to jump off a bridge than sit with her classmates more than she had to.
The only one she was willing to spend hours with out of school was Aidan, but I had no idea how to contact him.
"Hello, Professor Thompson speaking." I dialed Kate's favorite professor’s number after locating it on the medical school web-site and he answered almost immediately.
"Hello, uh... Professor Thompson?"
"If I were anyone else, why would I answer my phone calls with such a statement?" Straight away I could see why he was her favorite lecturer.
"This is Kate Briggs' father speaking."
"Are you sure? You don’t sound like her father."
"How is her father supposed to... Sorry, it does not matter. Did Kate come to class this morning?"
"Of course. There was a very important anatomy exam today. She would not have missed it."
"Yes, yes... I know... Just... She hasn't returned home yet."
"Okay..." his tone was hesitant. "I don’t seem to understand why that is so... I mean... How can I help you with that matter?"
"I wanted to ask if you knew where she was."
"Mr. Briggs, I do not keep track of the students' locations after class hours, not even the most successful ones like your bright daughter."
On any other day that sentence would have filled my lungs with pride and delight but, my daughter, the brilliant girl he was talking about, had not returned to me and I knew that until she did, the smile would not come back to me either.
"Professor, I'm sure you understand how responsible Kate is and how unusual it is for her not to have come home by this hour."
"Mr. Briggs, I believe you're making a big fuss about nothing. It's five-thirty in the afternoon. Are you aware of that?"
"If you know nothing about where she is, can you please help me find Aidan? He's the only guy she tolerates around her. I am hoping he can help me understand where she is."
"Again, Mr. Briggs, I do not know the location of..."
"Professor Thompson," I abandoned the hysterical tone and adopted another, more assertive one. "I don’t need a stupid repetition of the same sentence you have already said. For the past three years, Kate has returned home on time. I need you to listen to my words, answer my questions and, if you could help me find her, I would thank you."
"Now you sound like Ms. Briggs' father." I could hear that a smile had appeared on his face from the tone of his voice.
"Concentrate, Professor. Aidan. I need to find Aidan."
"I'm not near my records right now, but if you wait half an hour, I can send you the phone number he has listed in the student directory."
"Thank you very much, sir."
"Gladly. Please give my very best to your bright daughter," he added.
"I hope to do so as soon as possible."
"Don’t worry, Mr. Briggs. I'm sure she'll turn up soon with a more or less logical explanation for her actions."
"I hope that's true."
"If I may add something," he continued without waiting for any confirmation from me, "I'll go ahead and make an assumption that she finally did something reckless. I will also say I hope that's what she did and will pray for her to be a little more irresponsible in the future."
"Something happened to her, Professor."
"I understand, Mr. Briggs. I understand that you are very concerned right now. All I'm saying is that when she comes home..."
"Professor Thompson," I interrupted him. "Earlier, when I tried to be polite, you were wondering how I could ever be Kate's father. Now, hearing the reasons with which you are trying to calm me down, I am wondering how in God's name are you her favorite lecturer." I quickly hung up on him before he could respond on the matter and went back to gazing out into the darkening street through the curtain of my living room.
All I wanted was to sound our regular calling. The one that used to receive her every day when she came home, but the time was approaching six o'clock and there was no sign of life from my daughter.
About ten minutes later, I received a text message on the cellphone Kate had bought me and rushed to the dining room to read it.
"Mr. Briggs, I’ve attached Aidan’s contact details and apologize if I have expressed insensitivity in the face of your concerns. I sincerely hope my claims will be refuted, but I stand by my words and believe that your fears are unnecessary. I think it would be for the best if you could give Kate the opportunity to rebel against the strict set of rules you’ve defined for her.
Sincerely,
Professor Thompson. "
Blah, blah, blah.
That was how Kate would describe everything he’d written. She’d probably add some juicy curse or two as well, claiming that he should have sent Aidan's details earlier.
"Good evening, Aidan speaking. Who's the lucky girl calling?" Aidan answered as arrogant as he could be.
"Aidan? This is Mr. Briggs speaking."
"Mr. Briggs? Kate's father?"
"Yes." I took pleasure in hearing my title and role in the life of such an extraordinary girl as Kate. "Is she with you?"
"Who?"
"Kate," I shook my head on account of his stupidity. "Is she with you right now?"
"No. She went home."
"When did you see her last?"
"Immediately after school, as usual."
"Maybe she went home, but she did not get home."
"What do you mean? Our paths split three or four hours ago in front of our Starbucks. Are you sure, Mr. Briggs?"
"Well, I'm at home and she's not here so, yes. I'm sure." I did my very best to answer him respectfully, for he seemed to be the only one who realized how much Kate's absence was a cause for alarm.
"It's very strange, Mr. Briggs. Hold on, I'll call her."
"No need, she's not available." I rolled my eyes impatiently in the face of his trivial offer. "All incoming calls go straight to her voicemail."
"Well that doesn’t sound right." I was relieved to hear the wonder in his voice, knowing that at last someone understood the severity of the situation. "If that’s true, something is wrong."
Instead, I went into the kitchen and, with no other choice on the horizon, plated myself some of the food I had cooked for both of us and allowed myself to get lost in memories I hadn’t thought of in years.
I remembered the day we moved into this little apartment.
I had not needed anything else except for my beautiful daughter, who was only four and a half at the time.
"I want to go home," she cried bitterly.
"We're home, sweetie. This is our new house," I caressed her hair, understanding that the period of adjustment would not be easy for her.
"No, this is not my house. I have another house," she insisted while taking a look around. "My house does not look like this at all, and you know it, because you saw my real house!"
"This is your new house and, from now on, you'll live here with me. Do you remember that I adopted you from the orphanage? Do you remember, Kate?"
"Kate?"
"Yes, here in the United States we will call you Kate."
"Kate?" she repeated her name with a wrinkled forehead.
"Yes, starting now, you're Kate and I will be your father."
"But I already have a father and I also have a mother."
"I'm sorry, my darling, you had parents, that's true, but..."
"But what?"
"Forget it, it does not matter. I adopted you and I understand you might have a hard time at the beginning."
"I still do have parents. I saw them in the kitchen."
"You did, but not anymore, baby girl. I'll hug you and kiss you, I'll buy you presents and I'll endure all the rough nights along with you, until you're proud to call me your father."
Kate's adjustment period had not taken as long as I had thought it would. After just a few months, she was already grinning, finding new friends in the neighborhood and school and calling me 'Father' without thinking twice about the life she’d had before me.
I just couldn’t for the life of me understand why the hell she had not come home.
Chapter 4
Kate
The fabric that covered my eyes made it hard for me to keep them open. The binding of my hands restricted me to the point I either had to sit very closely to the wall or lie in a very uncomfortable position. All and all, I felt so very helpless. The only thing left for me to do was tease him.
I tried to play my kidnapper's voice in my head again, composing pieces of words and sentences that he’d said to try and discover his identity or, at least, to get a hint of our familiarity, but without success.
He’d repeatedly said that he knew me and, because he hadn’t sounded like someone who wanted me dead, I was afraid that someone I had once loved, and maybe still did, was behind such an act, a fear that was too much to bear on that specific evening.
I placed my head on the pillow and strained to listen to the sounds around me, but only silence was present.
No car passing through the street, no neighbors laughing or passers-by, not even a barking dog, or some church bells that could hint at my position in the world. Still, I strained to listen intently to the oppressive silence until fatigue overcame me.
I don’t know how long I slept before those nightmares came back to haunt me. Frightening images I had managed to forget long ago, flashed through my closed eyes and I failed trying to wake up.
Years had passed since I last saw those pictures. Those horrible dreams that were the soundtrack of my childhood had, over the years, diminished. But now... Now they were back.
"Psycho, are you there?" I said aloud. "Yo ho! Miserable man who will be sitting in jail for many years, are you there? Loser?" I didn’t even notice that I had called for him in English until he answered me in Spanish.
"Yes," he suddenly whispered so close to me that I panicked and rushed to sit as far away as possible from his breath.
"Pervert," I muttered breathlessly.
"Did that bad dream wake you up again?"
"No." I tried to settle my breath. "Not at all," I lied my ass off.
"So why are you not sleeping?"
I couldn’t decide whether his calm mannered speech irritated or intrigued me.
"Hmm, let me think. Maybe the fact that I was taken away from my life bothers me just enough that I can't sleep? Did you think about that or did your brain adjust its size to the size of your penis and you cannot really build a proper thought?"
"Katarina, I must just say, in my professional opinion, you're completely obsessed with the size of my penis. I think it is very important that you try to understand why that is."
I was annoyed that his witty reply made me laugh.
"I am not obsessed with..."
"I'll ask you again, and feel free to change your initial response. Are you sure you don’t want to feel it a little?"
"Yes, I'm sure, idiot." Again with the stupid giggle. What was with me?
"So, did the bad dreams wake you up again?"
"I had no bad dreams." It was strange to me that he used the word 'again' when he described those horrible nightmares, as if he knew that they had searched and hunted me all my life.
"No, Katarina. That's not true."
"I told you that my name is Kate and, regardless, you said that today we would speak English."
"I said that if you cooperated with me, tomorrow we would speak English. But you are lying about your dreams and tomorrow hasn’t yet arrived yet, Katarina."
From the sound of his voice, I realized that he was sitting right next to my bed. I wanted to reach out and scratch his face, but my arms were bound and I didn’t want him enjoying the fact that he had succeeded in thwarting my attempt to escape.
"How long have you been sitting there, beside me?"
"Only for the last few minutes. Only since I heard that these bad dreams had returned and have disturbed your sleep."
"And now? What are you still doing here? I'm awake and you're the only thing that disturbs me, so get up and leave." I turned my head in the opposite direction and, suddenly, was shocked by the picture I imagined in my head. "Oh God." I pursed my lips.
"What happened?"
"I thought of something. A disturbing thought. More disturbing than any images I saw in my dream and... Oh, please, God, don’t let it be true."
"What are you talking about?"
"I thought that... Well… I pictured you when... Oh, screw it, psycho, please tell me you weren't rubbing your shriveled cock while looking at me sleeping."
"What were the images you saw in your dream, Katarina?" His ability to extract the essence out of my words impressed me very much, but I wasn’t prepared to share with him the images that had bewildered me.
"Don’t you listen to anything, or is it just that nothing can reach your limited mind?" I started to lose my patience. "I'm not called Katarina! I've already told you that my name is Kate."
"You're wrong, Katarina, but if you want me to prove it to you, you must cooperate with me." His gentle voice did everything but frighten me which, perhaps, was the most frightening thing of all.
From the moment I’d realized I had been kidnapped, he hadn’t threatened or hurt me. In all fairness, he hadn’t done anything to make me think I had a reason to fear for my life.
The words he said were reassuring, the questions he addressed to me indicated that he cared about that Katarina he was talking about and I could only hope that, when he realized he had been wrong, this strange experience would come to its end.
"Close your eyes." I heard his voice and it seemed to me that he had changed the angle of his posture so that he could face me.
"Let's say I closed them, psycho," I straightened up on the bed and tilted my head a bit. "Doesn’t it bother you that I'm calling you psycho? Wouldn’t it be simpler if you told me your name?"
"Close your eyes, Katari
na." Again, he refused to let me mess with him. "Please cooperate with me."
"Well, I closed them," I lied and smiled, knowing that if he wanted to make sure he'd have to take off my blindfold.
His voice calmed the nerves burning inside me as he asked me to fill my body with air again and again. My eyes relaxed and closed by themselves, allowing me to concentrate on the sound of my breath coming in and out of my body.
For a few minutes he just went on, asking me to keep breathing in the rhythm he dictated. It didn’t take long for me to feel very dizzy.
"Katarina," he suddenly whispered close to my ear.
"I am Kate," I whispered in response, mimicking the dramatic tone of his voice.
"Katarina," that strange shiver again attacked all parts of my body as he went on whispering the name he insisted was mine.
"Kate. My name is fucking Kate, psycho." I raised my voice with a cry of frustration, "Agh!" I screamed like a wild beast, shaking what little I could of my body, while still being tied to the bed.
"Are you done?" he indifferently asked.
"No. I'm not done, because I'm Kate. My name is Kate." I was disappointed that the tear dam had been breached.
Salty trails ran down my cheeks without any control or restraint and testified to my shaky state of mind.
"Now that you're calm, Katarina, breathe deeply again."
"No!"
"Everything is fine. You just lost your concentration, Katarina. Breathe again, please."
"I did not lose concentration, I'm just not Katarina. I'm just not…" I wasn’t sure why, but I suddenly broke my sentence before its end and tried to understand what was happening to me.
Katarina.
All of a sudden, that name sounded different to me. Familiar.
"Who is Katarina?" I asked him, abandoning the need to add an insult at the end of each sentence.
"I believe you can supply the answer to that question, so you tell me. Who are you, Katarina?"
"Look, I'm not stupid. I understand you think that’s me, but you're wrong. I'm sorry I called you a psycho, OK? You're actually a very nice and intelligent guy. She was obviously very important to you but, I'm sorry to tell you, I'm not her."