by Alona Jarden
"It could have been simpler," I blew out air in disappointment, "but unfortunately, you have to walk this road at your own pace. Otherwise, you'll feel like I’ve kicked the truth out of you."
"And what is the truth?"
"The truth is the opposite of everything you think it is, and I'm telling you in advance that it's not something that will be easy to digest."
"Is that what this is all about? Is this your pathetic attempt to disprove my assumption about the size of your peanut?"
"Yes, Kate. If you have to know, you were far from the truth in relation to the size of the Anaconda lying quietly in my pants." I laughed loudly and left the room.
I retrieved the shoebox, which was the anchor of my life, from its hiding place and went back to the room to find her sitting comfortably, enjoying what was left of the coffee I had prepared for her.
"Well, you seem ready," I managed not to give her a compliment.
"I am. I don’t have any expectations for success, but I'm ready."
"Here we go," I smiled at her. "I'll ask you ten questions and, please, don’t think too much before replying."
"I hate to tell you, Andrew, but I haven’t felt the need to think too much about any of the answers I’ve given you since we met."
"Touché." I savored her witty answer and regretted all the others I had probably missed in her absence from my life.
I looked down at the shoebox that rested in my arms as if it didn’t contain a world of madness in it. Picking up a photo, I gazed with nostalgic excitement at it. It was of the two of us hugging at her third birthday party, but I placed it back in the box. Next, I picked up a letter she had written telling me off for throwing sand at her at the playground and decided it, too, belonged back in the box.
I exhaled in confusion, looking at the sketchbook she had left behind after disappearing and at the horrific pictures of the house she used to call home, and suddenly had no idea if I was doing the right thing.
"Did you have a change of heart?" she challenged me, and I continued wondering which of the items I collected would be the one that would allow her to start the process correctly.
"A little bit, yes." I was filled with sadness.
"I know what will make you feel better. How about you let me go?"
"You have nowhere to go, Kate. We're in the middle of nowhere, and this place is more related to you than the place you call home."
"If that's the case, grow a pair of testes and start your glorious plan already."
"Grow a pair of what?" I shook my head, trying to knock any doubts about my plan from my mind.
"You say you've been waiting for this moment your whole life. Go on. Seize it!"
I smiled and nodded in disbelief.
Little Katarina was, and had remained, wiser than me.
Back in the days when we were children, age was a sign of maturity and maturity was a sign of wisdom. But these days, that day, things were different. I had nothing on her abilities, and I could only hope that she would not be able to play on my insecurities in a way that would sabotage my plan.
"First question," I began matter-of-factly. "What's your name?"
"Kate Briggs."
"Where were you born?"
"In Costa Rica."
"What's your favorite color?"
"Green," she smiled as she answered.
"What do you like best to draw?"
"I don’t draw."
"At what age were you happiest?"
"Any age till two days ago," she smiled again, sassily.
"Why do you speak Spanish?"
"I have no idea."
"Who am I?"
"You're Andrew, the psycho."
"Share a good childhood memory."
"The day my father surprised me with a trip to Disneyland."
"Share a bad childhood memory."
"The day my father brought me back from Disneyland." Yet again, her smile threatened to break the seriousness with which I tried to act in front of.
"Who is the girl in this picture?" I placed the photograph I had picked out on her lap and she looked at it for a long time without saying anything.
Her eyes widened and I didn’t need to be answered verbally to know she had identified herself at her third birthday celebration. She had all her neighborhood friends around her and the big cake her mother had prepared for her in front of us, sitting in all its glory on the table.
That was it. The next theoretical stage of my plan was set into action.
Katarina had kept warning me that there would be a 'no turning back' point in the context of the legal consequences of my actions, but those implications had not worried me at all.
The first crack in her life's reality had just opened up and that was my one and only priority.
For me, that was the moment. The 'no turning back' point in the very complicated path I had planned for her, and we’d just passed it. No regrets. We had to continue and dive deeply into the process until the full picture was revealed.
Chapter 9
Kate
"That's me in the picture, Andrew," I mumbled what I suddenly felt like I'd known before.
"Do you remember when it was taken?"
"I do. I recognize this cake." Within seconds, a picture I had seen many times before came to mind. In that picture, I was wrapped in my father's arms and that specific cake was behind us. "This is my third birthday party, but that can't be true." I squinted my eyes at him.
"What does that mean?" It seemed I’d managed to confuse him.
"It means that I recognize my dress and some of the decorations around me, but not the actual scene. It means that this seems like my party, but for some reason, it's different than what I remember."
"How can you be sure that this is wrong and your memories are right?" He pointed to the photo I was holding and waited for my explanation.
"I'm not sure how to answer that, Andrew. I mean... I was there. I can almost feel the atmosphere at this party. I’ve seen pictures from it. Pictures that support my memories," I gestured toward the picture. "I don’t think any of this ever happened."
"So how do you explain the fact that it did?"
"I don’t know, Andrew." I got angry, but I guess I wasn’t mad at him. "Maybe Photoshop? Maybe you faked a picture of me?"
"You know that's not true." He smiled at me, "You just don’t know how to explain that weird feeling hints that I'm telling is the truth, right?" His question kept me silent for quite a while.
All of a sudden, I remembered my third birthday in great detail.
My father used to tell me about it from time to time, usually when I was feeling sad or frustrated, as if this particular party was the key to my happiness.
"Andrew, I don’t know how to explain what's happening here."
"Just say the first thing that comes to mind. Tell me about your third birthday party as you remember it, Kate."
"It took place in our backyard. A few moments before the cake ceremony, the rain made everyone split earlier than planned, and I was left to put out the candles with only my father."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Yes," I retorted, but suddenly didn’t feel so determined about my definitive answer. "I mean... I thought so, up until now, but what’s in this picture hasn’t been part of my memories. I'm… I'm surrounded by my friends and I'm putting out the candles."
"That's usually the moment every girl longs for at her birthday party. Isn't it weird that you can't recall it?"
"If it was true!" Rage swept over me. "But it's not. I was there only with my father and this is fake."
"Do you remember what you wished for?" he ignored my tone of voice.
"No," I used my free hand to scratch my head.
"Can you recall the name of your best friend?"
"Yes, it was... Um... It's on the tip of my tongue," I lied and broke eye contact with him.
I had nothing that resembled the answer he was looking for. I only had a beautiful story with a l
ot of details and a single picture of my third birthday party, which my father had shown me time and again.
I was such an idiot. I knew what he was trying to do.
It was clear that he'd been trying to make me overshadow my version of the truth so that he could continue in his claim, saying I was Katarina. But surely I would know if that was ever my name, wouldn’t I?
"At what age do you think you knew me, Andrew?" I decided I also had the right to demand answers from him.
"Old enough for you to remember me."
"Is that why you kidnapped me? I offended you, since you didn’t leave an impression on me?"
"Yes, Kate," he pretended to be hurt by my words. "Please, remember me. I am broken and ruined at not being etched in that brilliant mind of yours."
"If it helps you deal with your hard feelings, it seems to me that from now on, you'll never be forgotten." I tried to escape to humor, but he didn’t allow me that breathing space.
"I kidnapped you because you were my everything, Kate. You were Katarina, back then, and you were my absolute everything. I won’t lie and say that the feeling was mutual, since I remember very well how I was the one who spent hours and days in your room, willing to take a dismissive attitude in return for a little bit of your attention."
"I don’t know how to tell you this, but history seems to be repeating itself," I chuckled. "And worse than that, it seems you didn’t learn from the mistakes of the past." I gestured around the room, to the similarity of the situation we were in and the one he had just described.
"You always claimed I wasn’t as smart as you, and you were probably right. It's stupid, but I seem to be attracted to you." I widened my eyes at him.
"You're attracted to me?"
"No, Kate. I'm not attracted to you in that way." He stuck his foot deeper in his mouth.
"You're not attracted to me?!" I widened my eyes even more towards him.
"Oh, come on! You know what I mean. Sure, I'm attracted to you, but that's not the point."
"Relax," I ended up laughing. "I'm just messing with you. It's so easy to play with your limited mind."
"You should know that it's not easy at all, Kate. You're the only one that manages to fuck with me like that."
"If I really have such an effect on you, it's strange that I haven’t been able to get the whole truth out of you by now."
"It's not strange, it's obvious. Don’t you get it? I'll do anything to protect you, Katarina. I promised to do it back then, and I promise to do it now, again."
Strangely, I felt no need to correct him for calling me that.
I didn’t feel I belonged to the name Katarina, but for some reason, didn’t feel the need to shake it off as quickly as I had before either.
"Wait!" I wished I had been quicker than him, as he managed to pull the picture out of my hands.
"I'm sorry, Katari... Kate," he winked at me. "I have to go to work. I mustn't give any cause for suspicion but I swear that, when I come back, we'll delve into this picture together and walk confidently to the memory of that day."
"I'm not sure I want to do that," I breathed, frustrated at my expression of indecision, a quality I despised and used to characterize other girls of my age by.
"That's okay, Kate. I'm sure enough for both of us. I know you're scared and confused, but together, we'll figure out which of your memories are the right ones. I promise."
I didn’t fight him when he tied my arms again to each other and to the headboard.
The picture he’d shown me had taken me by surprise and I knew that, until I had a full understanding of its meaning and the reason he had it in the first place, I couldn’t return to my life.
The plan he’d built for me, the mysterious shoebox and the picture in which I recognized myself so easily, tied me to that cabin stronger than any rope or handcuff and I believed that even if he left me completely free, he would surely find me sitting there, waiting for him to return and explain himself.
Moments later, he said good-bye to me like a husband going out to his day and I smiled and wished him to have a good one.
It was weird.
Before leaving, he placed the picture in the shoebox and the box on a cabinet at the entrance to my room, far from my reach.
The lack of fear of being hurt, and the curiosity about the other reality he wanted revealed, drove me away from wanting to free myself and escape. When thoughts and wonderings that never bothered me before came to mind, I would hear his words again more clearly.
As much as I hated to admit it, he’d managed to awaken something deep inside my soul. Something I couldn’t explain.
"Psycho?" I shouted a respectable time afterward, trying to see if he had lied and was actually hiding from me.
Suddenly, the time I had spent calling him Psycho seemed light years away now that I knew his name was Andrew, and I smiled.
I called him again, but heard nothing. There was only silence around me, and I was afraid that boredom would allow for exhaustion to win. I couldn’t bear the thought of going back to the harsh images that clouded my sleep, so I did my best to stay awake.
I tried to remember more details about that birthday party, but nothing came to mind except one of the many conversations I’d had about it with my father.
"Do you remember this beautiful dress, Kate?" He pointed to the old sheet of paper that showed me smiling in his arms and continued, "I was the proudest father in the world."
"Why were you so proud? What did I do that was so special?"
"You dealt heroically with a not-so-pleasant situation."
"It was just some rain, Dad." No hard feelings ever rose inside me when we talked about that party and I couldn’t understand why my coping with it gave him so much pride.
"You're so smart. You remember that it was raining and all the guests ran away?" he asked, stroking my head.
"Yes. You told me that a long time ago."
"And do you remember the song about the girl who claims she can cry because it's her birthday party?"
"Yes," I frowned.
"Well, I am proud of you because you chose not to cry. It was your birthday party and all your friends ran home. They all seeked shelter from the rain, but instead of crying and saying you wanted them to return, you hugged me and said that I was all you ever needed."
"That's still the truth, Dad."
"And that's why I chose to remind you of this party again now, my beauty. As you were then, at the age of three, you shouldn’t be sad now, at the age of seven. You should never be sad, because you will always have me." He gave me a big hug that made me forget what had saddened my heart in the first place that day.
Even after seeing Andrew's picture, I was confident I really had had a huge birthday party at the age of three. For some reason, I knew for sure that the entire neighborhood had been invited and that I had been happy but, still, I could only remember extinguishing the candles on my birthday cake with my father. I remembered vividly that I had felt he was all I needed and that I was happiest in his arms.
Even so, I couldn’t ignore the fact that the girl in the picture Andrew had placed in my hands was me. No one could have falsified that exact same white dress and elaborate cake just to confuse me.
Even though all the other details around me in the picture didn’t immediately come to mind, something in me said I knew them or, at least, some of them.
It was hard for me to say whether Andrew was really a psycho as I’d claimed he was or that he indeed had evidence of my life which I should hear. The only thing I knew clearly was that I didn’t want the strange encounter between us to come to an end yet and so, I sat anxiously, waiting for him to return.
All I wanted was to look at the picture again and try to understand whether I had missed an unreliable detail in it, hoping it would restore my faith in myself and in the memories I had of my life.
"Honey, I'm home!" The way he chose to announce his return a few hours later made me laugh.
"I'm waiti
ng for you in the bedroom, my love."
"Are you decent?" he asked and followed with three knocks on the door.
"I've never been a decent girl, Andrew. There's no reason to start pretending to be one, is there?" I laughed at him and he walked into the room with a smug grin on his face.
The feeling that we had a long-standing relationship hit me again. I felt as if my life partner had returned and I was truly happy to see him.
"Before we begin, do you need to relieve yourself?"
"Obviously." I hoped he would allow me to do so alone, but I didn’t want to have to ask him for his trust.
"Do you want me to help you, like yesterday?"
"No," I rolled my eyes at him.
"Do you want to go into the bathroom by yourself?"
"Did your shift at Starbucks shrink what little IQ you had? Of course that's what I want. Do you really think I want someone else to pull my pants down and see me in such an embarrassing situation?"
"And if that's not humiliating enough, as we already established before, that someone is not even attracted to you."
"Andrew!" I grumbled and enjoyed the fine lines that appeared at the corners of his eyes as he smiled.
"Calm down, Kate. I just wanted to know if you enjoyed the intimate time we shared on the toilet or not."
"Not," I said. But I kind of did.
"Me neither." I was disappointed to hear. "And I also don’t think you'll try to escape if I let you go on your own, Kate. I believe you've realized that not everything I have to say is mere talk."
"It's just an old picture that could easily have been forged, Andrew. It's not like you've turned my world upside down."
"Say what you have to say to yourself in order to cope with this process. I know that everything will come back to you, but I also know it will take time."
"How long?"
"That's really up to you." My bladder began to make it harder for me to listen to him.
He kept on talking but, at the same time, released my arms from their bondage.
"You see, Kate? It will take time until everything is clear and understandable. I hope you can already see that even in the life you have known until now, not everything can be taken for granted, can you?"