by Cross, Amy
Today
"Have you been thinking about things a lot recently?" Dr. Gould asked as he sat behind his desk, making notes in his ledger. "With the anniversary coming up, it would be natural for you to have your niece's disappearance on your mind."
Charlotte paused, wondering what to say. She thought about Sophie at least half a dozen times every day, so it was hard to know whether she was giving the girl more consideration than usual. "Maybe," she said eventually, feeling hopelessly out of her depth. It was as if these sessions with Dr. Gould always reminded her how little control she had over her own mind.
"Maybe's not an answer," he replied. "Let me try to put the question to you in another way. Are you frustrated by our lack of progress?"
She nodded.
"Do you think that this is your failing? Or maybe mine?"
"I guess you know what you're doing," Charlotte replied.
"And yet whenever we try to trace a route back into your childhood," he continued, "we reach a brick wall."
"Not a brick wall," she pointed out. "Just... nothing."
"You must have been a child once," he replied with a faint smile. "You were eight years old when you disappeared, Charlotte, and nine when you reappeared. You must have existed during that year when you were gone, just as you must have existed when you were a young girl, but none of it seems to be stored in your mind. It's as if, in whatever way and for whatever reason, you've done an extremely good job of blocking much of your childhood from your memory." He paused. "What about your father? Did you do the exercises I set for you?"
"I couldn't," she replied.
"And why not?"
"Well..." She paused. "I tried to think back to what he was like," she continued after a moment, "but I was kinda just... making it up. I ended up writing down stuff about how I wanted him to be, rather than how he actually was. And then the part about looking at photos..." She took a deep breath. "I only have one photo of him, and when I look at it, I might as well be staring at a perfect stranger."
"During our last session, you said you'd contact your sister and ask for some different photos."
"I said maybe I'd contact my sister," she replied.
"When it comes to you," he continued, "I rather feel that 'maybe' is a code word. It's a way of refusing while simultaneously trying to avoid an argument."
Charlotte sighed.
"So did you talk to her?"
She shook her head.
"Why not?"
"It's difficult," she replied. "Things are... awkward between us. Trust me, she was like the queen bitch even before all of this happened."
"But she's lost her only child," Dr. Gould countered. "Doesn't that make you want to be with her? Even if she's difficult, even if she's a queen bitch as you put it, isn't it just basic human compassion to go and support a family member who's going through such trauma?" He waited for an answer. "Don't you feel anything for her?"
Charlotte paused. The truth was, she hated the idea of seeing Ruth again, and she was quite happy with the idea that she might not ever have to go back to that goddamn house again. At the same time, she knew that eventually she'd have to go back. After all, she couldn't just abandon the woman, even if she was still sensitive from some of the things that Ruth had said when they'd last been together.
"Charlotte?" Dr. Gould continued. "I asked you a question. Do you feel anything for your sister?"
"Maybe," she replied.
"Maybe?"
She paused. "Maybe."
"And have you thought about the other matter that we discussed?"
A faint smile crept onto Charlotte's lips.
"You haven't told your sister about your good news?"
"I'm still not sure I believe it myself," Charlotte replied. "John and I have only been going out for..." She paused. "I always thought it couldn't happen to me. Hell, I didn't get my first period until I was nineteen, for God's sake, and then... I really thought I was barren. It's kinda weird to think that..." Her voice trailed off, and it was as if she couldn't quite get the words out of her mouth.
"I think you should tell your sister," Dr. Gould said after a moment.
"Maybe," she replied.
"Maybe?"
She took a deep breath. "Maybe. Some day."
***
"Are you coming?" Tony asked, his voice sounding a little crackly on the phone. "Ruth says she sent you a few emails, but you haven't replied."
Walking along the busy London street, Charlotte silently rued her weakness in answering the call. If it had been Ruth trying to get in touch, she could have easily ignored the persistent buzzing in her bag, but Tony was another matter. Charlotte liked Tony, or at least she felt sorry for him, and she felt as if the poor guy at least deserved an answer.
"Maybe."
"Please, Charlotte. It'd mean a lot to both of us."
"I'm not sure I can make this weekend," she said, stopping on a corner and putting a finger in one ear so that she could hear him better. "I'm kinda rushed off my -"
"It'll be one year on Saturday," Tony said, his voice sounding tense, lending extra meaning to such a simple and innocent statement.
"I know," Charlotte replied cautiously, picking her words with care. "I know that, but -"
"I think it'd be good to have everyone here," Tony continued. "It's been a while since your last visit, and..." He paused, and suddenly it seemed as if there was a trace of excitement in his words, as if he was anticipating some kind of big revelation. "You know it's possible, right?" he asked eventually. "It'd be good to have you here, either way."
Charlotte paused. There was no way she wanted to go back to that house, especially not for some kind of anniversary pantomime. She knew full well that there was no way Sophie was going to show up, but at the same time, there was a part of her that wanted to be there for the moment of proof.
"Are you still there?" Tony asked.
"Yeah," Charlotte replied, feeling as if there was a lump in her throat. "It's just that work -"
"You don't think she'll come, do you?"
Charlotte winced. The poor guy was clearly filled with hope. "I'm, er..." She paused, trying desperately to think of a way to get out of the commitment.
"Please," he said plaintively.
"Maybe next weekend?"
"This weekend is the anniversary," he replied. "On Saturday, it will have been exactly a year since Sophie disappeared. I think... I think you need to be here, you know? For it to happen?"
Charlotte took a deep breath as she realized that Tony seemed to have bought hook, line and sinker into the whole affair. It was as if, in some strange way, the poor guy felt that her presence was required in order for some mystical, magical event to take place. The last thing Charlotte wanted was to encourage such a ridiculous idea, but at the same time, she felt as if there was no way she could turn Tony down so flatly. There was also a small part of her that felt she'd be abandoning Sophie if she didn't at least go and mark the anniversary of her disappearance.
"I can't make it on Friday," she said eventually, hating herself for each word, "but maybe I could drive up there on Saturday morning -"
"Saturday's fine," Tony said quickly, as if he was snatching her acquiescence before she could change her mind. "I'll make sure the spare room's made up for you, and we'll put on a big dinner, and..." He paused. "Out of interest, Charlotte, and I hope you don't mind me asking, but when you came back all those years ago... what time of day did it happen?"
Charlotte paused. "I don't know," she said eventually. "You'd have to ask Ruth or my mother.""
"I'm just trying to plan ahead," Tony continued with an embarrassed laugh. "You know, on the off-chance. I know it's probably not going to happen that way, but I suppose we should cover all the eventualities, shouldn't we? Just in case there's some kind of miracle."
"You know -"
"So we'll have a big dinner to celebrate," Tony added, cutting her off before she could pour cold water on his plans. "I'll roast a duck or some
thing. Really push the boat out, you know? I'm sure Ruth'll be pleased to have you back here, and your mother has been asking after you in her own inimitable way." He paused. "I should probably be straight up with you and warn you, Charlotte. Helen's not doing so good. That's another reason why I think you should come. Her moments of confusion are getting worse, and her periods of lucidity are kind of fleeting these days. If you stay away much longer..."
She waited for him to finish, but she already knew how the conversation was going to end. So far, she'd gone from refusal to lying agreement, and now it was time to say the words she'd been putting off for a year. "Sure," she said, inwardly hating herself, "I'll come down on Saturday and stay until Sunday. I need to be back on Sunday night, 'cause I've got work the next morning, but..." She paused again. "I'll come," she said, as if to reaffirm the idea in her own mind.
"Ruth'll be so pleased," Tony replied.
"Liar."
"I think you'll be surprised," he continued. "She's mellowed. I think it's because..." He paused. "Well, you know, the anniversary is coming up, and I guess stranger things have happened before."
"I'll see you on Saturday," Charlotte replied, preferring to cut the mystical bullshit. "I should be there around lunchtime."
Once the call was over, she found herself desperately trying to think of a way she could back out without making it seem painfully obvious that she was trying to avoid her sister. The last thing she wanted to do was sit around that house and wait while everyone else wondered whether or not Sophie might follow her lead by making a sudden, miraculous reappearance. All she could think about was the fact that after a year of waiting and hoping, the fact of Sophie's disappearance was about to be firmly, finally put to rest. She just hoped that, wherever she was and whatever had happened to her, the poor girl hadn't suffered.
Today
It hadn't changed, Charlotte realized as she parked outside the house. The world had swung around the sun since her last visit, and four seasons had left subtle marks, but for the most part the old brick house looked exactly the same as before.
"Damn it," she muttered, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel. "Why am I such a fucking nice person?"
The front door opened before Charlotte was even out of the car. With a nervous smile on his face, Tony looked desperately relieved to see that she'd finally shown up. He was wearing a particularly jaunty jumper, bright red with unseasonal brown reindeer marking in a procession across his chest. Charlotte couldn't help but wonder if he'd had to put away his more colorful jumpers for a period following Sophie's disappearance, as a mark of respect.
"Smell that?" Tony said with a theatrical sniff as he hurried out and grabbed Charlotte's backpack from her hands. "A whole roast duck, bathing in its own juices, seasoned and timed to perfection by hands that have completed several cooking classes."
"Sounds good," Charlotte said, giving him a limp hug while glancing at the house, which seemed pregnant with the promise of Ruth's presence. Somewhere in that stone building, Charlotte's stone sister was waiting, and the question was whether she'd have mellowed over the past year, or whether she'd pick up the sisters' argument right where they'd left it a year ago. Somehow, Charlotte suspected the latter.
"Anything I should know?" she asked as Tony led her to the front door.
"Dinner's ready at five," he replied jovially, clearly being careful to step around the big questions.
Charlotte smiled politely as she entered the house, and she was immediately assaulted by familiar smells: her mother's perfume, unchanged for decades; her sister's favorite fruit tea; and Tony's roast duck, a family staple for many years. It was as if the smells wrapped themselves around Charlotte and mocked her as they welcomed her back.
As soon as she heard footsteps in one of the upstairs rooms, Charlotte tensed. Seconds later, Ruth appeared at the top of the stairs and came hurrying down, with a highly uncharacteristic smile on her face. She immediately swung her arms around Charlotte, giving her the kind of hug that people usually reserve for those whose company they actually enjoy. It was a strange, elongated moment that Charlotte felt must be some kind of trap, but as the hug continued, the whole thing began to feel more and more sincere.
Definitely a trap, then.
"I'm so glad you came," Ruth said eventually, taking a step back. "You look..." She paused, her eyes alive with a bright smile. "I was going to say you look healthier or happier or older or wiser or... some such bollocks, but the truth is, you look exactly the same. It's like it was only yesterday that you walked out the door." Grabbing her by the arm, she led Charlotte through to the front room, but not before Charlotte was able to register her shock with a well-timed glance back at Tony, who simply shrugged.
"Where's Mum?" Charlotte asked, stunned by the rapturous reception she was receiving.
"Having a nap," Ruth replied, and for the first time since Charlotte's arrival, her smile was interrupted by a fleeting moment of sadness. "I'll fill you in later. But come on," she added, grabbing Charlotte's arm and leading her over to the patio doors and out onto the porch overlooking the lawn, "tell me what's been going on in your life. It's been far too long. Tony'll bring us a drink each before he starts buttering his duck. God, there's a sentence I never thought I'd say."
Charlotte smiled politely. She'd prepared for every possible welcome: she'd been ready to have things thrown at her; she'd been ready for the silent treatment; she'd been ready for bitter, muttered asides or possibly even a balls-to-the-wall slanging match. The one thing she hadn't been prepared for - in fact, the one thing she'd never even considered - was a friendly, pleasant conversation over drinks. She felt strangely friendly toward her sister, although she was also considering the possibility that the whole thing was a trap. As they approached the deckchairs, she took a quick look around the base of hers before sitting down, just in case it had been placed over a trapdoor.
"I was wrong," Ruth said as she sat down. "You don't look the same. You look healthy, Charlotte."
Charlotte smiled. She was so flabbergasted, she wasn't quite sure where to start, but she wasn't ready to tell Ruth about her tentative relationship with John, or any of her other news. Not yet, anyway. She felt, in a way, that admitting to happy news would be tantamount to admitting that Ruth was right about life, and that whole idea just sat a little wrong.
"You know," she said eventually, with an evasive smile as she couldn't help but glance toward the river, "London's busy. Very busy. Lots of people, lots of things to do." She paused, realizing that her sister was listening with rapt attention. "Lots of stuff," she added uncomfortably. "Um, lots of... nights out. Lots of long days at work. Lots of -"
"Lots of everything, from the sounds of it," Ruth said, still smiling as Tony placed a couple of drinks on the little table between them. "Vodka and orange," she added. "I know it's early, but it's Saturday, so what the hell?"
Charlotte took a deep breath. It was as if aliens had landed, scooped up the real Ruth, and replaced her with some kind of copy; they'd managed to get the physical appearance down pat, but they'd completely messed up the personality and had accidentally made this new version of Ruth seem overly happy and friendly. Having a normal, cheerful conversation with Ruth was about as normal as watching an elephant perform ballet, and Charlotte felt bad for not being able to properly relax.
"So Mummy's getting worse," Ruth said after a moment, with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Much worse. She drifts in and out of these clouds of dementia, but most of the time she'd too far gone to really..." She paused. "She keeps talking as if Daddy's around, for one thing, which is mildly infuriating during the day and downright creepy late at night. She seems to be retreating into the undamaged parts of her brain, but there aren't proper connections between those parts so she ends up trapped in these little loops until, occasionally, a little misfire sends her across the void to another bubble. It's quite frightening, really, but totally manageable. She's less trouble, and at least she's still toilet-trained.
Still, we're going to have to put her in a home."
"Really?" Charlotte replied, shocked at the idea.
"Of course," Ruth continued. "She simply can't stay here. Tony and I can handle her, to some extent, but she's going to..." She paused. "Look, the truth is, and I feel bad for saying this, but I can't have Mummy around Sophie. An unstable old woman isn't good for a child, and it's only going to get worse. I should have made the decision before today, really, but I think the best thing for everyone would be to find a nice, friendly residential home where Mummy can make some new friends. People her own age, you know? People with the same interests and problems."
Charlotte stared at her sister, unable to quite untangle the sentences she just heard.
"What's wrong?" Ruth replied with a nervous smile. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"No," Charlotte said, "it's just..."
"I know it's a shock," Ruth continued, "and believe me, I've wrestled with my conscience. But I can't let Mummy scare Sophie, can I? I'm sure the old dear would understand, if she was capable of understanding anything. I'll just have to break the news to Sophie gently, and hope that she's able to understand that this is no-one's fault."
Charlotte paused. "Um..." She paused again. "Ruth?" Another pause. "When you say... Sophie?" She paused yet again as she tried to work out what was happening. Glancing back at the house, she could see Tony hard at work in the kitchen.
"What's wrong?" Ruth asked. "You seem confused?"
"You keep mentioning Sophie," Charlotte replied, turning to her. "I was meaning to ask -"
"Now that she's back," Ruth continued, "we have to take her needs into account. The past year has been difficult with Mummy, but Tony and I are adults and we can handle it. Sophie's a different kettle of fish, though, isn't she? She's still so young and impressionable."