The Tightrope

by Hiba Basit

  She leaves the kitchen just in time to see David closing the front door.

  ‘Annie,’ he calls, walking towards her with hair speckled with raindrops. He produces a red envelope from his back pocket. ‘No stamp!’ he says, twirling it in his hands. She catches sight of letters written in block capitals at the front. ‘AMS. Do you reckon it’s for Amelie?’ he asks.

  She nods, quickly taking it from him. ‘I’ll give it to her.’

  As he goes off to check on the turkey, her heart begins to thud inside her and her breathing becomes faster and heavier. Worrying that someone will notice, she climbs the stairs discreetly and locks herself in her room. She traces her finger around each black letter, instinct warning her that the message inside the envelope is not meant for Amelie, or anyone else in their family for that matter. Whatever is written inside is meant solely for Annette.

  She rips the flap open and unfolds the single sheet of paper inside.

  Swanlegs, meet me by the dock at midnight. If you don’t, you’ll reap what you’ve sown.

  Her chest tightens. She wants to cry out for someone, but she doesn’t know who to cry out to. Her mind stops, turning rigid with panic. Memories that have plagued her from her past dance in front of her eyes, skipping from one disaster to the next. Only when she hears a sobbing sound coming from inside her closet does she break from her reverie, thinking at first that she must be crying without realising. She slips off the bed, the note held firmly in her grasp, and pulls her closet doors open. Her eyes fall on Santana and Mali, crouched together in the corner.

  ‘What are you doing? I thought you were downstairs,’ she says before noticing Mali’s swollen eyes. ‘What’s happened?’ she asks, flicking her gaze between both of them. When no one speaks, she looks pointedly at Santana.

  ‘Stewart called,’ Santana mumbles, looking at the floor.

  ‘What did he say?’ she asks, but Mali grabs Santana’s arms, pleading her not to say anything. Santana hesitates but eventually turns to her mother.

  ‘He asked if anyone was with her and Mali said no. Then he started shouting at her and told her to stop calling his number because it wasn’t his any more and he’d tell the police that she was harassing him.’ Mali looks like she’s about to pass out with humiliation.

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘I don’t want to say.’

  ‘It’s OK. Just use his words.’

  ‘He called her some really horrible names. He told her he was disgusted by how quickly she’d given herself to him. He said that no one would want to date her again since... she was such... a pussy-loving slut.’ She whispers the final words, but they linger in the air as if she has screamed them. Mali is beside herself. She gets up to leave but then remembers that everyone is downstairs, including her parents. She sits back down, resting her forehead in her hands.

  ‘Santana, go downstairs please,’ Annette says.

  ‘Sure. I’ll go and finish the panna cotta.’

  Annette kneels down next to Mali. Looking into her unfocused eyes, she sees a girl who’s lost everything she’s ever cherished and every hope and dream she once believed in. She thinks about saying something, words that might offer some comfort and protectively slide their letters around her, but there’s nothing to say, no words will return the certainty back into her life – that innocent and resilient belief in children that everything always works out in the end. But how can she watch as Mali goes from believing everything to losing her belief altogether and enduring more than she ever should have? How can she ease her pain when Mali had hinted that something was amiss that day on the beach? Instead, Annette did the one thing she vowed never to do again the day Jordan told her Morgan had died. Just as with Morgan, she’d once again let crucial information pass by her and realised too late what was happening right in front of her eyes.

  Hating herself, Annette reaches for Mali’s hands, which are cold. Mali gives a start and shudders, bringing her knees to her face and folding her arms around them. Staring ahead of her, she sighs as loudly as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. Annette pulls her towards her. Mali hesitates and then complies, laying her head down on her knees. Annette smoothes the hair from her face, guiding her finger over the hill of her cheeks.

  ‘Sweetheart,’ Annette finally whispers, recognising something familiar in her behaviour, a feeling of helplessness she remembers well. Mali plays with the rug on the floor, pulling out strands from the crosshatch mesh and tightening it around her fingers. The weaving action reminds Annette of when she took Mali to a carnival one summer. They sat on the tepid grass sucking ice-lollies and watched a flock of people build a crosshatched patterned parachute from ripstop nylon, helping the craftsmen by shouting out favoured colours and patterns. She remembers how Mali’s face glowed with delight when the parachute was finished, her small eyes sparkling under the bright shades of the fabric. Annette lifts her now and leans her against the wall, worrying that her recent mutism will increase after this.

  ‘I’ll get your parents,’ she says. She heads for the door when something makes her stop. Mali’s face is unmistakable; she has the same look Annette had several years ago, the look of a girl with six thoughts in her mind when she can only focus on one. Annette retraces her steps towards her.

  ‘Come with me,’ she says, trying to lift her up.

  Mali reaches for her ring sprawled on the rug. Instead of picking it up she draws her hands over her head and plasters herself against the wall. ‘I’m so stupid!’ she cries.

  Annette pulls her close again, wrapping her body around Mali’s. In the silence that follows, Annette thinks of the man who’s done this to her, the man who’s transformed her life in a single moment and made her a hapless stranger to her loved ones. She thinks about how he’s not only stolen her virginity but her trust that men are good and the world is a safe place. She wants to tell Mali that things will be fine, that she’ll get through this. She wants so badly to tell her that it’ll become easier as time goes on, but what the hell does she know? She doesn’t know anything any more.

  Hearing footsteps coming upstairs, she leans towards Mali, bringing her face next to her ear, and whispers the mantra that summed up her own early life but now sounds strange and unfamiliar on her lips.

  Annette closes the front door and leans against it. Tears fill the corners of her eyes as she stands on the doorstep, alone beneath the veranda, which shields her from the slapping rain. After seeing Mali’s state, Melissa and Matt had decided to call it a night and taken her back home. Despite ushering them home, she couldn’t help feel their absence now, as the jovial mood of the evening fades.

  As if nature is in tune with her mood, a strong gust of wind pushes her backwards, throwing her a couple of sidesteps to the left, her cold fingers swiftly scouring the wall. She watches the Christmas lights flash haphazardly across her street, casting multicoloured shades over the puddles in the road and radiating a luminous glow into the night sky. It calls to mind her first Christmas with Santana, laughing at the table with her dad and taking pictures of him holding his grandchild. Even then, she had felt an inkling that things were changing, that the sudden surge of affection from her dad was meant for his own peace of mind rather than for her. She sensed something unusual in the way he kissed her that night, a rough peck on the cheek, as if to say ‘good riddance’.

  The front door clatters open now with a loud crash. Santana is suddenly standing in front of Annette, her face a mixture of rage and fear.

  ‘I’ve been looking all over for you!’ she shouts, rain pelting her face. ‘Has Mali gone home?’

  ‘Yes. You should go back inside. It’s cold out here.’

  Santana crosses her arms hard over her chest. ‘I know why you wanted me here!’

  Annette catches sight of the note in her hand. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘Does it matter? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She detects the fear in her voice. ‘It’s not what you think.’
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br />   ‘Only one person in the world calls you Swanlegs! It’s exactly what I think!’

  ‘I needed some time to think.’

  Santana moves forward. ‘We’re in this together!’

  ‘Sweetheart, I don’t want you to worry.’

  ‘He’s found us, hasn’t he?’ she asks. Annette turns away, refusing to acknowledge the truth. ‘When are we leaving?’

  ‘We’re not leaving. You are!’

  Santana grimaces with pain. ‘No! No fucking way!’

  Annette tries to keep her voice still. ‘Yes. I’ve already made a call and arranged for them to pick you up tonight. I don’t know where they’ll take you, but I’ll find out as soon as I can.’

  Santana shakes her head frantically. ‘I’m not leaving you again.’

  ‘You need to do as you’re told.’

  ‘No!’ she shouts fiercely, tears and rain becoming one. ‘Why aren’t you coming with me?’ Annette’s face says it all. ‘Then David can come with us!’ Annette gives her an admonishing look, but Santana is relentless. ‘You can’t stay here because of him! He can’t help you without knowing the truth!’

  ‘He’s my husband,’ Annette says softly.

  ‘You promised! You said if he ever found us, we’d leave together!’ she cries, bending over to catch her breath.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart, I can’t leave the person I love!’

  Santana glares at her. ‘And I can?’

  Annette remains silent.

  ‘I can see the terror in your eyes. I’m not letting him hurt you again. I’m staying right here, with you!’ Santana says.

  Annette thinks about this, realising Santana’s not a little girl any more but someone she desperately needs by her side. Maybe they’ll be stronger together. ‘OK.’

  Santana looks alarmed. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re right. It’s time I told everyone the truth, beginning with David.’

  Santana walks towards her. Her hair is tangled around her face. ‘We’re doing this? We’re not living a lie any more?’

  Annette nods. ‘I hope I don’t lose him.’

  Santana studies her mother for a long time. ‘I thought I’d seen all your fear, but I was wrong. David won’t leave you. He’ll understand you did what you had to. He’s one of the good ones.’

  ‘It’s his trust I’m worried about. I’ve been losing it since he found out about you.’ As soon as she says this, she wants to take the words back.

  ‘Everything can be regained. You’re the one who taught me that. Even trust!’

  Annette brushes the hair from Santana’s face as the wind pulls them closer together. ‘I need to tell you something,’ she shouts over the wind. ‘I haven’t been honest with you either. I haven’t told you the entire truth.’

  Santana waits expectantly, her brow furrowing in anticipation, but the front door bangs open again and David appears from inside.

  ‘Hey, gal pals! What are you doing in the cold?’ His goofy greeting makes Annette smile.

  ‘Just enjoying the weather. I don’t think we’ve had anything like it,’ she says, placing her hands inside his pockets and pulling his jacket around her. He rests his chin on her head and wraps his arms around her front.

  ‘Must be Santana! Bringing in all the rain and sleet from New York.’

  Santana smiles lightly, but her smile fades as rapidly as it came. ‘That, or pathetic fallacy,’ she says, still looking at Annette with uncertainty. Thunder bellows loudly, luckily drowning her words. In the silence that follows, Annette feels Santana’s words charge through her body and wonders if David has noticed how unnaturally hot she is amid the cold.

  ‘Santana, why don’t you go inside and start setting the table.’ It’s not a suggestion.

  ‘But you said –.’

  ‘Later!’

  Santana reluctantly turns and steps inside, shaking off the rain and wind.

  ‘Do you think we’re going to have a white Christmas?’ David asks, nodding at the ceiling. Annette follows his gaze to the sky.

  ‘Don’t be silly! It might be raining madly but it’s not cold enough for snow!’

  ‘Yeah! I’m probably feeling so cold because I’m used to a blazing sun right now!’

  ‘Snow reminds me of people’s thoughts,’ she whispers.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘You know they’re there but you just can’t hear them. A sort of silent existence.’

  David pulls her closer. ‘Sometimes I silently think all this psychology has gone to your head.’ She pushes him back but he grabs her hand and pulls her into the rain.

  ‘I just think that sometimes it’s unsafe to say your thoughts out loud,’ Annette explains. ‘No wonder authors get killed for their words.’

  A raindrop lands on her lower lip. ‘It’s only unsafe if what you reveal will affect someone. If not, no one’s going to hear them, and certainly no one’s going to read them.’ She thinks about his words and wonders how much her thoughts will affect him. ‘We first met when it was raining,’ he says, reaching out for her.

  ‘Yes, nearly seven years ago!’ she says.

  ‘I can’t remember my life without you in it.’

  ‘I don’t want to remember my life without you in it.’

  David holds her close. ‘Annie! You’re looking a bit plump. When was your last period?’ he suddenly asks.

  Annette is stunned by what he’s asked her that she struggles to respond.

  ‘Annie, are you pregnant?’ he asks, mistaking her silence to mean that she doesn’t remember when her last cycle was.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she says, the lie burning at the back of her throat making her want to retch.

  David lifts her into his arms, laughing loudly into the night sky. ‘You should do a pregnancy test.’

  ‘OK,’ she manages to say, wanting so badly to tell him the truth, to not hurt him anymore.

  Without warning, he pulls her back inside the house, dodging people and running upstairs.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Annette cries.

  ‘The guests can wait a while,’ he says, pulling her into the bedroom and kicking his shoes off.

  ‘Now?’ she asks, clearly impressed.

  ‘Quickly,’ he insists, pulling her onto the bed and slipping her tights off. Suddenly, an urgent knocking resounds on the door. Before they can respond, the door opens.

  ‘Oh my god!’ Annette screams, grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around her.

  Jordan quickly looks away, his face turning crimson. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, waiting for David to pull his trousers back on.

  ‘All good, mate,’ David says, perching himself at the end of the bed.

  Jordan slowly turns back to them, as if he’s been caught avoiding someone in the street. ‘Annie, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I just received a phone call from the police. Andrei and his cellmate have disappeared from prison.’

  ‘When? How?’

  ‘An hour ago. The guard went into his cell and nearly got beaten to death.’

  She jumps off the bed. ‘He’s not going to get far. People in Canberra know what he looks like from the news. As soon as someone spots him, they’ll be contacting the police.’

  ‘Even in the dark?’ Jordan points out.

  ‘I don’t know! But it doesn’t make sense. Why would he run away when he knows he’ll get caught?’ she says.

  Jordan shrugs. ‘I don’t think anything Andrei does ever makes sense. Just thought I’d come up and tell you myself since I was here, but don’t worry yourself over it. They’re already out looking for him. You both carry on doing what you were doing, although locking the door might be a good idea.’

  As he leaves, David breaks into a loud chortle, which only sets Annette off. She flings the covers aside and pulls her dress all the way down, slipping it off her ankles.

  ‘Seriously, why do you think Andrei’s made a getaway?’ she asks.

  ‘Maybe he thinks he’s Billy the Kid. Innocent until proven guilty.’

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nbsp; ‘He has been proven guilty! Anyway, Billy the Kid got shot in the end.’

  ‘Then I guess you have nothing to worry about,’ he says, caressing her stomach.

  ‘Maybe,’ she says, running her hands down his back and wondering where she’d go if she were Andrei and had just escaped from prison into the big wide world.

  Later, Annette pops two painkillers into her mouth. Her hands shake as she throws the bottle back into the drawer and walks downstairs, using the handrail for support. She catches sight of Santana perched on the windowsill with her head resting back against the wall and her legs hanging loosely to the side.

  ‘Hey,’ she says, sitting opposite her.

  Santana keeps her eye on the rain. ‘I’m scared. I don’t want to be here!’

  Annette follows her gaze. The driveway is framed in large puddles. She listens to the sound of a distant car. ‘We’re leaving tonight,’ she says, the words catching like hooks in her throat.

  Santana tilts her face to look at her. ‘It’s the right thing to do,’ she whispers, realising just how difficult this decision is for her mother.

  ‘I don’t know who I was kidding. I knew we’d have to leave the instant I read the first message. I just didn’t want to believe it. After so many years of freedom, of not looking over my shoulder to see if he’s there, he’s found us.’

  ‘First? There’s been a second note?’

  ‘Yeah, I got it today. He wants me to meet him by the dock at midnight.’

  Santana’s face immediately clouds with terror. ‘How can he still be looking for you?’

  ‘I ran away. I knew what I was getting into the moment I agreed to work against him.’

  ‘What about your life here?’ Santana asks.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ve written Jordan a letter giving my resignation. I’ve told him the person I want appointed in my place. I didn’t tell him anything else.’

  ‘What about David?’