I pushed open all the doors and checked the balcony. Vicky wasn’t there. The school had been empty by the time I reached it, and I had hoped Vicky would have made her way home by herself—it would have been the first time.
“Vicky? You here? Are you hiding?”
I kept shouting, though I knew she wasn’t home. I kept hoping she would pop up from behind somewhere, giggling and joking.
“Fuck!”
I ran out of the apartment, clambering down the stairwell two at a time. I got to Sandy’s door and bashed my hand against it until it opened up.
“Hey Davy! Where’s Vicky? Is she here?”
“Mum says you’re crazy and not to talk to you.”
Sandy came to the door, brushing Davy aside.
“Sandy, have you seen Vicky?”
“You’ve got a nerve coming here, after what you did to my son. Breaking his toys and shouting at him. Who do you think you are? You think that just because you’ve got problems you—”
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Look, do you know where Vicky is? I can’t find her. Please.”
“Sorry I can’t help you.”
“Come on, Sandy. Please.”
“How should I know? Maybe she’s gone out to play. She can’t stay cooped up in your flat all day, Joseph. Let the poor girl grow up—”
I slapped my hand against the door frame and left.
“It isn’t right!” Sandy screamed behind me, and it echoed down the stairwell with me.
I ran around the block, scanning every sidestreet I could. Any time I heard a voice, I ran towards it. I retraced my steps back to the school and banged my fist against the office doors. I knew it was useless, teachers rarely stayed this late. It was over two hours after home time.
I sat on the steps and tried to calm down but my thoughts raced to every bad thing I could imagine happening. I swore at myself over and over, then swore at Vicky over and over. I found myself running again, calling out her name helplessly. Stopping anyone I saw and describing her in detail.
I stumbled down some high street, puked in a doorway, and blacked out. I came to and saw an old man’s face above me.
“You alright, son?”
“You seen my sister?”
“Your sister?”
I pushed him out of the way and started running again. I stopped every parent with a kid and asked the kid what school they went to. I ran back home and circled the block again and again. Eventually a thought struck me, and I headed for Josephine’s house praying continuously under my breath.
The lights were on and I thumped my fist against the door as hard as I could. I thought about breaking the door down but it opened. I shoved Monika to the side as I burst in.
“Vicky! Vicky!”
I saw her in the living room, holding her hair in a braid.
“Oh, Vicky!”
I threw myself at her and picked her up, squeezing her as hard as I could.
“Big bro! Ah, ouch!”
“Where the fuck were you? I’m so glad you’re ok. Are you ok? I told you never to leave school without me. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Shit.”
Monika entered the room. I spun around.
“You fucking stay away! I don’t know what you’re doing, but I know your fucking type. Stay away from Vicky or I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Joseph! Calm down!”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
“What is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? Sit down.”
“Fuck off! I know what you’re doing. I know you want to take her from me! Over my dead fucking body!”
“You’ve lost it, Joseph! You really have lost it!”
“Let me down! You’re hurting me!”
“Don’t worry, Vicky. Big bro just needs to calm down.”
“Don’t talk to her like that, Josie! She’s not yours!”
The blood rushed to my head. Every cell in my body was filled with hatred, and it was all focused on Monika. I lost all sense of rationality; felt the overwhelming urge to completely destroy her. For the first time in years I forgot my disability, forgot who I was, and threw my phantom limb at Monika with all the energy my being could muster. The lack of connection threw me off balance and I began to fall. Vicky screamed, my head hit something, and then I blacked out.
Chapter 11
The hottest night in July. The air so thick it squeezed the sweat out of our naked red bodies. Josie and I danced with our shadows in the flickering yellow fires of the candles. Wiry guitar sounds strung themselves up like sticky webs around the room. Brief snatches of a breeze that came in from the black void of the open window made the flames dance and the light moved around our bodies in orange tongues. She splashed me with vodka and it burned against my skin; I chased her with lipstick. We laughed and drank, the sweat falling off our glistening hairs.
We danced and played with candle wax for hours, never stopping but for a few brief, ugly silent seconds when the music would end and Josie leapt to the cd player to click play on the album again.
A moment passed, Josie stopped dancing, and I stopped too. We looked at each other, standing apart, our faces still. The fun and laughter gone, replaced by some deep bond, some profound telepathy, more than human. We simply stood and looked at each other, as if for the first time unveiled, a conversation without words.
I was no longer myself, I was inside her, and she inside me. Our beings opened up and smashed together, with no definition between them. The dense mass of our bodies drew us close together, circling each other. We reached out and locked hands, and flowed through them.
She pulled my hand towards her and pressed it against her stomach, her eyes pleading.
It was dark when I woke up. Once my eyes had adjusted to the light I found myself looking at a familiar blue painting, thick brush strokes and elegant lines. The last time I had seen it I had been resting my head on Josie’s lap, in front of the TV. I turned one way, and made out the shape of the TV in the darkness, turned the other, and saw nothing but the dark brown texture of the couch. I touched my forehead, found a lump, and a shot of pain went through my skull.
The couch was small and I was lying awkwardly; my legs over the side and my head bent against the armrest. I straightened out and sat up, knocking something over in the process that clattered as it fell. A second later there was a quick thumping of footsteps on the stairs. Then Monika appeared in the doorway. She clicked on the light and I winced at the sudden brightness.
“Where’s Vicky?”
“She’s sleeping in my bed. She’s exhausted.”
I blinked a few times, struggling to open my eyes. Monika dimmed the lights a little. I saw the lamp I had knocked over and reached over to pick it up.
“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”
“Just water.”
She turned and went to the kitchen, leaving me to rub my bruise until I got used to the pain. With a little effort I managed to recall the events that had brought me there. Monika returned with a bottle of water and a glass. I took the bottle and drank straight from it. She put the glass and a pill packet on the table then sat down beside me.
“I brought you some paracetamol too. In case you need it.”
“I don’t take painkillers.”
“It’s just paracetamol.”
I finished the bottle of water.
“You got anymore?”
“Yeah, I’ll get you a big bottle.”
She left to fetch the water and when she returned I drank huge gulps from the bottle again.
“Are you hungry?”
“Did you take Vicky’s clothes off before you put her to bed? She’ll wake up tired if you didn’t.”
“She took her clothes off herself.”
“Are you sure she’s sleeping? She sometimes only pretends.”
“Trust me, she’s asleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Joseph. I was talking with her when she fell asleep.”
I sucked down more w
ater. It felt like the most nourishing thing I had done in a long time.
“Why is she here, Monika?”
She sat down beside me and looked me in the eye.
“Why weren’t you there to pick her up?”
“Answer me.”
“I am.”
“Why did she come here, and not go home. This is miles further from school than our house.”
“She waited for you for an hour, Joseph. She got scared, so she texted me asking me to pick her up. She tried to call you but you never take your phone out.”
“Scared. Right. More like she wanted to come here and see what freaks you were hanging out with.”
“What is your problem? Seriously, what the hell has gotten into you?”
“Me? You’re gonna tell—”
“Don’t start that again, Joseph. Get a grip. The world isn’t out to get you.”
I tried to speak but frustration and my tiredness prevented words. I snatched the remote control for the TV off the table and turned it on, flicking through channels rapidly. I could feel Monika’s eyes boring into me.
“How long have you been texting with her?”
“Honestly? Since I picked her up from your place last week.”
“I knew it. I knew it.”
I put the control down, gulped more water, and then returned to the TV.
“She’s scared, Joseph.”
“So she should be!” The words left my lips without thought, “There’s a lot to be scared of in the world. Better to be scared of everything.”
I found a channel showing an octopus on the hunt, and left it there.
“She’s scared of you, Joseph.”
“What?”
“She’s scared of you, and I can see why. Look at you. You have a scar on your face, your clothes are ripped and dirty, you always look like you’re going to kill someone, and God knows where you were all this week. It seems like Vicky spends most of her time on her own in your house. Shit, even I’m scared of you right now.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No. You’re the one who hasn’t got a clue. Honestly, when did you last speak to her? Just sit down and ask her what was going on with her life? Did you know that she’s trying to get a role in the Christmas play? That she has a boyfriend at school? Just today she was telling me how she’s been watching a lot of films, and wants to be an actress. Did you know that?”
“She has a boyfriend?”
Monika rolled her eyes.
“Shit, Joseph. You’re impossible. Really impossible.”
The octopus moved quickly and elegantly, devouring a flailing crab.
“Look. I have a lot of stuff I have to do now. The past few weeks have been tough for me. I will finish this, and things will go back to normal.”
“Finish what?! Chasing your own tail? Trying to convince yourself that Josephine didn’t kill herself?”
“I’m not convincing myself. I know she was murdered.”
“Sure. Don’t you see the irony?”
“What irony?”
“You’re going crazy trying to find out all these things about Josephine you didn’t know before she died; and all this time you’re doing that, you’re missing out on what Vicky is doing. It makes me wonder; why is there so much you didn’t know about Josephine?”
“Enough. You’re beginning to getting on my nerves.”
“Because you know it’s the truth.”
“No. Because I don’t have the energy to talk to idiots.”
“Are you only going to start caring about Vicky if she dies, too?”
I turned to look Monika in the eye. She looked away, shamefully.
“Sorry, that was a horrible thing to say. I take it back.”
I turned back to TV. A school of tropical fish were swimming amongst coral. Minutes passed. The program went on to show dolphins hunting, shellfish fighting, and whales breeding.
Once the program had finished and I had begun flicking over again, I said:
“Are you just going to pretend I didn’t see you yesterday then?”
“You mean, in the window? I thought that was you.”
“Who else would it be?”
“You’re not the first person to stare from the bus stop.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
I kept flicking through the channels, almost unconsciously. After a minute of silence I said:
“Well?”
“It’s complicated, Joseph.”
“It’s insane. That’s what it is.”
“You wouldn’t understand. Just forget about it.”
I switched the TV off and turned to face Monika.
“What were you doing? Pretending to be Josie.”
“Nothing, I mean… I don’t know. Have you never wondered what it’s like to be someone else?”
“Of course not.”
“You have no imagination, Joseph. No empathy.”
“I’m not crazy, that’s all.”
“I told you; you wouldn’t understand.”
She grabbed the remote from my hand and turned the TV back on, She browsed channels a lot slower than I had. I kept watching her face for a few more seconds, then turned back to the TV myself.
“Sometimes I hate the way I look, Joseph.”
“What?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
“You’re a model. You know you’re good looking. Don’t fish for compliments from me.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“What?”
“If I was average looking you wouldn’t say that. You’d say ‘oh no, you’re beautiful, don’t hate the way you look’. People always treat me differently.”
“Poor you. It must be so difficult being attractive.”
“Forget I said anything.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you did that, though. Why don’t you just ugly up a bit if you don’t wanna get attention? Why do you need to pretend to be Josie?”
Monika left the TV on a film channel; a loud crime film that she turned the volume down on. She grabbed the bottle of water from the table and took a sip.
“Josephine was ugly, but in a really amazing way. All the time, people had such amazing reactions to her, even when she first met them. Something about her drew people in, like a kind of hypnosis.”
“Yeah. But that’s not her looks. There’s more to life than looks you know.”
“No, Joseph. There really isn’t.”
We sat and watched detectives argue hotly amongst the desks of a police bureau. More minutes passed, and I tried to concentrate on the film.
I had never credited Monika with anything more than being some simple, irrelevant girl who happened to share an apartment with Josie, but at that moment I felt like she had opened up some part of herself that she had never shown anyone. A stupid, nonsensical part, but a private part nonetheless.
After a few more minutes of the cops cruising through wide American roads, she spoke again; words that had obviously circled in her mind a few times.
“Anything someone says, people see differently depending on how they look. No matter how smart or stupid the words are themselves. Whenever Josie met someone, it took them a while before they began to realise she was smart, and then when they realised that, they began to see her as beautiful too—in a profound way, sort of. I’ve never had that. I know you won’t understand, but being given everything just because of how I look sucks. I’m twenty-five, and I feel like I’ve never earned anything, just been given it because of how I was born.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’ve never found love because of that. Because I’ve never had someone get past how I look. They just go for me, and then eventually it wears off and they just think I’m a dumb Romanian girl. I don’t even know who I am, cause even when I’m a bitch people treat me like I’m great.”
“It’s alright. I understand.”
“I’m twenty-six soon. Every day I can see my
looks fading. I feel old, and I’m so fucking scared of the future. I feel like time is running out for me. I just want something real.”
Her voice was trembling, and she wiped her eyes. I reached into my jeans pocket and handed her a pack of tissues.
“Thanks.”
“Keep them.”
“I know you think I’m spoilt, and ‘oh poor me, crying cause I’m beautiful’ and you especially, with your arm and all, but I just want to know what it’s like, to be loved truly for who I am. I was so jealous of you two. Josie and you. And Vicky, bless her. I just wanted to feel it, just a little.”
“Yeah, it’s alright.”
“I’m sorry Joseph. I’m such an idiot, crying like this. Ugh.”
The detective was talking to a woman in sunglasses. Monika blew her nose into a tissue. The thought entered my mind, and I wondered if she had been insinuating it all this time, planting it in my mind. I wondered if I was the strange one for thinking it. She carried on sobbing, uttering things that I didn’t understand from beneath the sobs and tissue. She looked up and caught my eye, seeing something that held her gaze on mine.
We looked at each other, not talking. Her sobs fading. Whether she understood or not what was racing through my head I don’t know, but it seemed inevitable. I reached out and brushed the back of my hand against her cheek.
“Do you still have her clothes?”
I woke up a little after 6, and when I realised the weight on my chest was Monika I was grateful to my internal clock. I shook her awake and squeezed out from beneath her. The TV was still on. I turned it up to hear the weather as I snatched up my clothes from the floor and dressed hurriedly. Heavy rain was forecast.
“Hey, wake up. Hey.”
“Mmm.”
“Wake up.”
“In a while.”
“No. Now. Get this stuff out of here, get changed. Vicky could come down any second.”
I shoved Monika harder and harder until she lashed out and hit my hand away.
“Alright! I’m up! Jesus!”
Once I was dressed I took a long drink of water and went upstairs to check on Vicky. She was, as Monika had said, sound asleep in her bed. Her clothes neatly folded on a chair beside her. I crept back downstairs and spent another minute trying to wake Monika up again.
Delete-Man: A Psychological Thriller Page 11