by C. L. Stone
What did it matter if he left completely; he was never here anyway? Was that even a concern? Why didn’t I feel sadder about my dad not being there? Maybe that was the worst thing. Kota said I was dismissive of things like that. I didn’t even care that I was in the closet so much, but was more stressed about putting the guys at risk and that my father might get the police called on him for reasons unknown to me.
And it was all my fault. If I hadn’t wanted to go to Nathan’s, or if I’d stayed in bed and slept at home like I was supposed to, it wouldn’t have happened at all. I would still have my secret phone. I’d have gone off to school. If my dad was gone, I wouldn’t have been in the middle of this. Would I?
I felt the guilt of it on my shoulders. I made too many mistakes. Maybe Victor was wrong. Maybe I needed to keep them out of some things. I could have sucked in my loneliness for the night and made it through. It would have been better than this.
♥♥♥
More time passed. My mother made phone calls to the bank like she promised. She rattled off account numbers and she questioned the amounts. She made them repeat information to her. When she hung up, she grumbled. That was all. No revelation as to the condition of the accounts.
A little later, she called my father’s office, asking them to leave him another message, and requesting that the secretary try to call through to him. Family emergency.
My mother didn’t sleep. It left me without a chance to escape. Cell phone or not, I thought if I could get up to my bedroom, I could at least leave a note. Maybe I could send smoke signals. She never gave me the chance.
A distinct ding-dong echoed through the hallway into my parents’ bedroom.
It startled me because I’d never heard the sound before. It took a while for me to recognize it as the front doorbell.
My mother shuffled on her feet, pacing back and forth and muttering. Was she contemplating ignoring it?
The doorbell rang again. My heart thundered in my chest. Despite not being able to see, I crawled on my belly toward the light, staring out at the other closet as if doing so would help me hear better.
My mother hobbled down the hallway. I heard the front door open.
A man’s voice. Attention demanding. Elegant. Perfect.
Mr. Blackbourne. My heartbeat thundered in my ears leaving me unable to concentrate. I listened, desperate to make out the words he was saying.
My mother replied to him. Something negative. Mr. Blackbourne’s voice grew in strength, but despite that, I couldn’t make out the conversation. My mother replied, loud, angry and shut the door.
The guys knew something was wrong. They were looking for me. The Academy boys knew.
My mother crossed the bedroom to the closet, opening the door and peering in at me, as if wondering if I was still there.
I kowtowed on the floor, my naked back exposed as I tried to cover everything else. I turned my head toward her, waiting.
Her scowl etched on her face. “Why would your teacher from school come looking for you?”
I had no idea what Mr. Blackbourne told her. “Because I’m not there?” I said flatly, not really caring if that was the answer she wanted. Mr. Blackbourne was outside somewhere! I wanted to hug him, him with his cruel steel eyes and ever-demanding requirement for perfection. I wouldn’t care. His voice had drifted to me; it was all I needed to find my courage. I would wait forever knowing someone out there wanted me. The boys did. Even Mr. Blackbourne.
Her eyes narrowed at me. She shoved a paper at my face, flicking the light on. I blinked as the closet light temporarily blinded me. I rubbed my eyes.
“Read that,” she said.
Confused, I picked up the paper, drawing myself up to sit on my butt, covering my body with folded legs against my chest. My eyes scanned the square, yellow piece of paper.
The note was mostly in English. It announced a make-up test required in three days or I’d fail.
There was a single line of script at the end. The language was my own secret code, the Korean lettering nearly identical to the way I wrote it.
Bathroom.
That was all. It meant something. That I should go back to the bathroom?
He knew my language. I realized now that writing out his strange little sentence, he was secretly having me teach him how to read it. I hated him for tricking me and loved him for it at the same time. Shrewd, clever Mr. Blackbourne.
“It says I have to take a test,” I told my mother.
“I should call the police on you now,” she spat at me. “Your father leaves me. I’m ill and he walked out. How am I supposed to run this house with his harpy daughter, running wild in the streets? Getting boys to buy her cell phones. Wearing boy clothes. I saw those clothes in your closet. Boy pants. Boy shirts. I said you would get raped, killed, and tried to warn you. Nothing. No one listens to me. I’ll stop this before it starts. You won’t bring down this house.” She shut the door again, leaving me in the darkness to ponder how she could think such things. I understood it. It looked bad. If she only knew...
But it didn’t matter to me.
I was no longer alone.
Many Things,
But Never Alone
The way the light under the door shifted, I understood that it turned from morning to afternoon. I almost dozed off, but couldn’t allow myself to sleep. I was listening and waiting.
Marie returned, stopping in to check with our mother. So I guessed it was after school. It seemed kind of early for it. Did she skip?
She was told to go to her room and remain there. Marie obeyed without question. I listened for her footsteps, giving myself something else to do.
Marie turned her stereo on. I couldn’t make out the music type, just the rhythmic beat. It was enough to mask some of her noise.
Mr. Blackbourne hadn’t returned. That told me a couple of things. I couldn’t tell if he meant from his message that they saw what was in the bathroom or they wanted me to go there. I hadn’t risked going to the bathroom yet because I wasn’t sure she would let me or if it would be the wrong move.
As the hours drifted by and nothing was happening, I thought I should try it just in case. Maybe there was a message for me or they could tell me what to do from there.
I hesitated a little longer because I was naked.
I cracked the closet door open again. “Mom?”
“What?” she snapped.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I peeked around the edge of the door into her room.
She was on her bed. A collection of mail nestled in her hands. Marie must have delivered it. My mother glared over at me, contemplating.
“I don’t want to make a mess,” I said. I guessed that she didn’t want me to pee in the closet.
She released a loud breath. Was this the same person from yesterday? She was so weak last night, sick from the cancer that ate her inside. Now she looked so aware, and full of spite. The anger that radiated from her didn’t seem like the illness, or like the usual drug induced paranoia that I was familiar with. Instead, it was like she was fully awake for the first time in years. “You’ve got five seconds.”
I raced to the bathroom, shutting the door. I was here. The heart was still in the tub. Was the camera on?
I dashed to the small bathroom closet, finding a long towel to wrap around myself. I clasped the towel, and stared up at the camera, asking questions with my eyes to people I couldn’t see. I’m here. Now what? What do I do?
Maybe that’s all they needed. They needed to know I was there.
A tap at the window startled me. I spun on my heels.
Gabriel’s face, his beautiful crystal eyes, the blond locks lifting against the breeze, mixing with the russet brown, his playful lips... for a moment, I wondered if it was my own hopeful imagination.
Gabriel mouthed words that I didn’t catch. He pointed to the lock.
I sucked in some courage, clutched the towel around my body tighter. I turned the lock on the window. Gabriel popped the screen
out on the other side, pushing the window up for me. “Come on, Trouble, let’s go,” he whispered, urgency etched in his eyes and dripping from his voice. His hand stretched to me, wrapping around my arm to pull me toward him.
Was that the plan? To get me to run away? I wanted to. I wanted to run away with him. I knew I should trust them. They didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t have all the information. “I can’t,” I said.
He started tugging stronger. “You can fit through the window. It’s not that small.”
“No, I mean, I can’t leave,” I said.
“Don’t start this again,” he said. “You have to. We have to go. Now.”
I shook my head, trying to wrestle my arm from his grasp. “No,” I whispered, “she’s already told me she’d call the police. She’s waiting to do it now.”
“Sang, we’re about ready to call the police on her. She’s crazy.”
I wrenched myself away. “I can’t. They’ll find us. They’ll put me in some home somewhere. You guys will be arrested.”
“You can’t stay here.”
“I have to,” I said, and pouted, not meaning to but I wouldn’t let Gabriel go to jail.
“No, Trouble,” he pleaded under his breath, “no, no, no. Sweetie, don’t... you can’t. Please.” His eyes darkened, watered. “No, don’t you dare.”
“Tell them to call my father,” I said. “Find him. She’s determined to find him. She wants me to go with him.”
Gabriel jerked his head back, looking back out toward the yard and then inside at me. “I can’t leave you.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
“Sang!” My mother called. I quivered, worried she’d heard me.
Gabriel’s face steeled over. He grasped the edge of the window, hauling himself up and over the side of the wall, sinking down onto the back of the toilet as he stepped into the bathroom. Dark slacks, white shirt, red tie swinging from his neck. Did he come straight from school to here?
“Get out,” I whispered to him.
Gabriel put his fingers to his mouth, indicating I shouldn’t talk any more.
This was it. He was going to get caught. We’d all go to jail.
He lowered himself onto the carpet, stepping close to me until I could breathe in fresh leaves and sweet fruit. Gabriel, the perfume maker, always smelling different.
“Sang!” my mother called again from the bedroom.
Gabriel signaled with his hands for me to go toward the door. I did, opening it slowly as he closed the window, leaving it unlocked.
I peeked my head out, looking toward the bedroom. My mother’s eyes were expectant on me. I sighed, opened the door as Gabriel stood behind it, my shadow.
I shuffled out, clinging to the towel. I opened the closet door, holding it wide. From the angle, it blocked the view of the bathroom. Gabriel slipped against the wall, sliding into the closet. I stepped in behind him, my heart thundering, worried my mother would notice.
“Drop the towel,” she said.
Gabriel gazed back at me from the inside the corner of the closet. He turned away, staring off at the opposite wall.
I dropped the towel at my feet, stepped into the closet and closed the door.
When I was inside, I sank onto my butt on the floor, drawing in my knees and surrounding my legs with my arms.
Gabriel’s arms found me in the dark, encircling my body. His breath heated my face. Silent, he pulled me into his lap. I wanted to push him away, to tell him to go or hide but his scent, his warmth, the feel of his body made me weak. I was done fighting him.
He held me as he sat cross-legged on the floor. He stripped off his tie, his shirt. He quietly fluffed the shirt out and wrapped it around me. He dressed me, putting my arms through the sleeves and buttoning the front. “Trouble,” he whispered against my hair at my cheek. “I swear to fucking god, I’ll hate you forever if you ever do that to me again.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered back, not meaning it at all.
“Like I’m going to leave you alone.” He finished the last button and his hand sought out my cheek, bringing my head to his shoulder as he embraced me. “Can’t spend the night on her own in her own fucking bedroom and wants me to leave her naked in the dark closet.”
“It’s my fault.”
He stiffened against me. “Don’t you say that.”
Shuffling noises started in the bedroom. I clutched to Gabriel, my fingers gripping at the ribbed undershirt he wore. Now that I had someone with me, I was desperate to hold on to him.
My mother was dialing on the phone again. Beeps sounded as she pressed the buttons.
Gabriel and I waited, listening. I was so sure she’d heard him and called the police.
She was up, shuffling around the bedroom, sounding like she was marching between the window and her bed. She started talking like she was leaving a message. “I have been trying to reach you all day. I know you’re there. Did you think you could run off? Did you think I wouldn’t figure out what you’ve done to me?” Her tone rose. “I don’t care if you’ve left money. What I don’t want is her. She’s your responsibility, not mine. She stole money to buy a cell phone and now she’s sleeping with boys. She’ll poison Marie. She’s just like her mother.”
A rattle swept through me, causing me to miss whatever she said next.
She’s just like her mother.
I couldn’t breathe. My body slumped against Gabriel. The courage I’d managed to collect to hold myself together through this crazy ordeal, was taken away with one short sentence.
She continued, “If you want to leave me, fine. I’ll take the house. Thanks,” she spat into the phone, “for being so thoughtful as to leave us what we needed. Now come back and get her or I swear I’ll call the police and I’ll tell them exactly who she is. I’ll give you until nine. I know you have other important things to do.”
There was a click as she hung up the phone. The television volume was suddenly turned up, the murmur of news reporter voices filling the air.
I stared at the light under the door.
She’s just like her mother. … I’ll tell them exactly who she is.
“Who am I?” I whispered, the words floating away from me.
Gabriel’s arms shifted around me, but it was like he wasn’t there at all. Not his sweet scent, not his caring whispers to calm down, not his gentle caresses at my back could break through as I felt myself slipping down, drowning in a single question that forced me under.
The connection was made in my head, but it didn’t seem real. It was like I was looking at someone else, some other girl’s truth was revealed and I was watching, sorry for her, saddened she had to learn it, desperate to know just as much as she wanted to know.
The mother I thought was mine, wasn’t. Was my father my real father? Who was Sang?
I was a secret; a secret enough that the police would be interested if they found out. Was that why I was in the closet? All I’d ever known was them, my mother, or the person I thought was my mother, getting ill when I was nine. There was my sister and I who used to play together, and eventually we drifted apart, but were we still sisters? Our father came home on occasion and never talked to us. He disappeared so often.
The years of stress and worry when the punishments started confused me now. The way she never allowed me to have friends, to warn me about going out to get raped or killed… what was that? She warned me about bad guys. I’d always thought maybe it was misguided attempts to keep me safe from harm. I thought it was wrong what she was doing, but some small portion of me understood. She feared for me. I sympathized. I didn’t like it, but I was her daughter, and children listened to their parents.
But was it really keeping me safe? Or was it keeping me a secret? If I’d gotten into trouble and had gotten raped or kidnapped, the police would find me or find out the truth. If I had been allowed to have friends like normal kids, maybe this secret would have been exposed. So why send me to school?
Then it hit me
. Because home school students are examined closer by the board. If I was registered in public school, I was just a number. Unnoticed.
She controlled me through fear. If someone became my friend and looked too closely, would they see the truth in me? Would they be able to see who I was, even though all this time, I never knew?
Who am I?
“Sang,” Gabriel cooed to me under his breath in the dark. “Sang,” he whispered, calling me back. “Trouble. Sweetheart. Sang. Don’t. Don’t slip away.” He sniffed.
I felt a droplet meeting my forehead.
Gabriel was crying.
“I need you,” he whispered. “Come back to me. I need you.”
It was like when North shook me after the nightmare, and I felt myself rising to the surface and waking. My lungs opened up. I gasped, choking on the air, discovering I could breathe again. Gabriel’s tears met mine on my cheeks. Trailing together.
I was awake now. My own need for answers had to wait. He was breaking down. I needed to be there for him.
It was the only thing that pulled me from the depths. I needed to protect my family, the only people that I knew wanted me. My father abandoned me. The person I thought of as my mother didn’t want me, wanted to shove me off on someone who had already let go. Marie reveled in this for an unknown reason.
Gabriel, Kota, this tender family that had sought me out, they were still in danger. Because of me.
“Meanie. Gabriel,” I gasped, as I tried to stop shaking. My fingers found the back of his head, intertwining into the longer parts of his hair. I pressed my cheek to his. How did he know? How did he know I needed to feel needed? “Gabriel.”