Once, We Were Stolen

by Courtney Symons

  Only a few days had gone by since he had found out her name, but already he couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if she were to fall out of it.

  Jeremy didn’t like to take cabs. He never knew if he was expected to speak or be quiet. He preferred when they let him just sit and look out the window. Cab drivers seemed to be ever on the phone anyway, talking in beautiful languages from far away, getting excited and gesturing with their hands. Jeremy would always hold his breath until both were back on the wheel.

  The taxi had showed up quickly, but Jeremy was ready and waiting outside with nothing in his hands and his wallet forming a pop-out square in the back left pocket of his jeans. There was a small gun in the back right.

  He had bought it at the dollar store. It was jet black, and weighed next to nothing. From a distance, it held weight. Fear could trick the senses into seeing things that weren’t really there, or exaggerate those that were. He was banking on that, and yes, it did register in his mind that it was cruel of him to hope for fear.

  His cab passed by an after-school camp along the way. It was probably one of the last warm days of the season, and those agile bodies would soon stay shoved behind desks. They would be planted in firm chairs designed to anchor their gaze at the board, at the teacher, at all that was about to be inserted into their brains.

  The children were divided into two lines facing one another. Each end had a ferocious hold on a rope that was teeter-tottering between the two. Their movements struck him as infinite, wavering back and forth. Tug of War. Tug o’ War. He remembered it from his childhood, how winning hurt more than losing. The rope would go slack and the champion team would fly backwards, landing on stunned backsides in painful victory.

  “Now, that’s the best kind of war, don’t you think?” said the cab driver who hadn’t spoken another word, not other than, Where to?

  This struck Jeremy as particularly profound. He knew he shouldn’t jump to such conclusions, but a vision popped into his head of the driver’s family stuck in a war-torn country.

  Men don’t grow up, his mother used to say to him. They’re just bigger boys with bigger toys. He saw world leaders, opposing sides on each end of a rope, pulling for their countries, using their hands alone. Working together as a team. No blood shed, no death. No folded flags, no cannons fired at night to honour the dead.

  Before he knew it, Jeremy was outside the diner. He tipped generously. Those few words stayed with him for a long time. Now all he could do was wait. He peeked in the window to make sure he hadn’t missed her, that she wasn’t home and out of his reach. The flash of blonde ponytail was visible first, then her smile. He hadn’t seen her mouth curved into anything but, and his stomach clenched at the thought that he was about to change that. For a split second, he almost turned away.

  Sitting on the curb, he wondered what he would say to her. He had to be likeable, enough for her to listen to his every word and not question it. Did he have to say a lot? Could he simply ask for a ride? He doubted it very much. If there was anything he’d learned, it was that most people weren’t willing to go out of their way for him.

  He’d have to ask her for a ride; she wouldn’t offer. He might have to beg. But it wouldn’t be the first thing he said to her. He plotted away with his head in his hands until he heard her laugh.

  Oh god.

  He began to pace. He wasn’t ready. As he looked up, there she was coming through the doorway in her adorable purple shirt with the diner logo on the left breast. How could they put that logo there without willing male eyes to linger?

  He tried to meet her gaze. Would she recognize him? What if she didn’t? That was something he hadn’t thought of. Of course he would remember her face, but how many people did she serve in a day? How many men did she deal with, day in and day out, who expected her to remember?

  But she did. He saw the recognition; there was a flicker, then a smile.

  “Hi there,” she said.

  “Hi, Violet,” he forced a smile in return. He was beginning to feel a little sad, and wondered if it wasn’t too late to call up another cab and turn right back around again.

  She waved goodbye to the friend she’d walked out with. “See you tomorrow.” She lied unknowingly.

  “What are you doing on the curb?” she asked with a laugh. He was amazed that she could say this, could even laugh along with it, and he didn’t feel made fun of. He didn’t feel pathetic, and he began to breathe a little easier.

  “I’m stuck here,” he started. “I just, I don’t have a ride. I was supposed to meet with a friend, and they never showed up, but I just thought I’d wait and see if they came.” He was rambling; he knew it by the way her face fell. There was empathy there. Or was it sympathy?

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  “A few hours,” he lied. He wanted to be the poor little puppy dog on the side of the road that she couldn’t help but help. He prayed she hadn’t seen him walk out of his cab moments earlier.

  “Hmm. Well, do you have a phone number you could reach your friend at?”

  She was concerned! She was trying to figure this out for him, trying to find a way to make it right. Not in the way that he wanted her to, not yet, but she might get there.

  “No. I don’t have a phone.” A lie. Who didn’t have a phone these days? She’d see through that. “Well, I do, but I left it at home. And I don’t remember his phone number. I would’ve gone to the pay phone otherwise.” He gestured to the booth on their right, and was thankful for his peripheral vision.

  “I see. Darn, that’s too bad. Do you live far from here?”

  He could read between her lines. Well, what are you doing just sitting here? Walk home already.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said, scratching his head. “It’s this beautiful old Victorian home out on the 8th Line. I don’t think I’d make it there before dark.”

  This was the begging part. This was where he should have said, Oh, it’s alright, I’ll find my own way home. I’m a stranger and you don’t know me really and you just worked a full shift, so don’t worry about me. Just go on and get home safe.

  That’s what he should have said, but he didn’t. He waited now. If she offered, if she ever did, it would be now. If not, he would have to ask. He was alright with that; he’d come this far, and the furrow in her brow was there just for him.

  “Do you know what, I can give you a ride.” She was nodding, convincing herself of it as she said it out loud. She was probably thinking, Stranger danger! But he didn’t look all that strange, just sad, sitting there alone on that curb. It wouldn’t hurt anyone for her to help him out.

  “Are you serious?” This was genuine. “You don’t know how much that would mean to me. I know it’s out of your way, and normally I would say no because I shouldn’t make you do this, but I just, I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re not making me do anything. My car is just over there,” she said, pointing to her little ol’ faithful. “I don’t mind in the slightest.”

  And so he got up and started to walk to her car, wondering how the next while would unwind. Maybe he would decide against it at the last minute. Maybe she didn’t him at all, and maybe he would do her more harm than good. But as they walked to the car, he saw the bags under her eyes. He took that as a sign that she needed this, that she needed rescuing.

  “I have to pick up my brother first though, if you don’t mind,” she said as she opened her car door.

  Immediately, Jeremy felt lightheaded. There was a brother. He had visions of a big, bad man in a leather jacket who would crush him between his thumb and pointer finger. Not even a full fist would be necessary.

  “He’s just playing over at a friend’s,” she added.

  Playing over. He remembered this term from when he was young. It was what kids said to one another when they wanted to go to each other’s houses, eat each other’s food.

  “Sure, no problem,” he said, knowing there was no way around it. “How old is your brother?�
�� He tried to sound conversational and keep his voice unaffected.

  “He’s six,” she said. “His name is Benjamin. Ben. You won’t think he looks like my brother.” This with a smile. “He was adopted when he was two, he’s from Mexico. Everyone always asks.” She was so open, sharing the information like offering a mint or a stick of gum. A candid confession wrapped up just for him.

  “That’s a good age,” he said without really knowing what he meant.

  “Yeah, he’s a doll. He’s a really sweet kid. And he’s happy to be living here in Canada, I think. He didn’t come from the greatest home.”

  Violet was nervous too. She felt wary and out of her element. She was so good at the small talk of the restaurant, but now that she was alone with an older man she didn’t know, her words came out thicker. They took a little longer to process, and she had to grab them from deeper parts of her brain. She took deep breaths and found herself peeking out of the corner of her eye at the man next to her.

  She pulled into a driveway. “I’ll just be one second,” she said as she hopped out of the car. The ignition was still running, so she wouldn’t be long.

  Jeremy’s heart began to hammer. Two people. Violet needed him, he was sure of it. But two people, that was something else entirely. That was a whole other heart and brain, another pair of legs, two more arms, ten more fingers, ten toes. Two extra eyes to evaluate him with. What if this was the most monstrously huge six-year-old ever to exist? Maybe he did wear a leather jacket. Maybe he had to be adopted because he was too huge to fit into the average Mexican home. He glanced at the clock and hoped they would hurry up before he took off running.

  When Violet came back around the corner, he saw Ben’s hand in hers. A tiny hand, close to the ground. A bare arm, a richly coloured one, and then a full body. A whole little human with a big smile and a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

  Jeremy’s heart did a flip. He couldn’t do this. There had to be another way he could get through his everyday life without implicating these people. He didn’t know what, but hadn’t there?

  Ben threw open the car door with little-boy strength and jumped into the back seat.

  “Hello!” he said right away, a bit warily but with a real smile, “Who are you?”

  “That’s – ” Violet began, but Jeremy was struck with a panic that she wouldn’t remember his name. That she would be left hanging, searching for it in her memory, that she would be embarrassed. He dove in and shouted “Jeremy” at the same time she did. She’d remembered. He smiled.

  “Hi Jeremy,” said Ben. “Where are we going?” The question was thrown out to either of them, but Jeremy let Violet take it.

  “We’re going to give Jeremy a ride home, he lives out on the 8th Line. I think it’s a little ways up from the ice cream stand you like, remember?”

  “Allison’s! Can we stop for some?”

  She laughed. “It’s pretty close to dinner time, so I don’t know. But maybe on the way back. If you promise not to tell mom,” she added quickly.

  “Promise!” He practically squealed it.

  So they have a mother, Jeremy thought to himself. Most people did, but he had edited that possibility out to make it easier for himself. Now that he knew there was a mom in the picture, he worried. She would miss them. She would come looking. That’s what moms did, or so he heard.

  He wondered about a father and guessed, correctly, that there wasn’t one. Both of them were adopted, and neither knew the man who had shot out the stuff that allowed them to walk the earth. Jeremy couldn’t stand the thought of two parents suffering without their children. But one, just one, it turned out he would be able to deal with. Just one wasn’t so hard to bear.

  They turned down roads Violet had never been down before, and it took awhile before they began to get close. Jeremy wasn’t looking forward to this part. Their smiles weren’t going to last much longer, and it would be a long time before they looked at him with any sort of ease or comfort again. He wanted to skip this part.

  When they turned into his driveway, it was still a thirty-second trip up to the house. He had precious little time left, but he was not about to turn back now. He was committed, and soon they would be too.

  The gravel grumbled beneath the tires, flinging up and around them like battle fire. Violet slowed to a halt when she reached the top of the path.

  “Wow!” she marveled. “What a beautiful place to live in! You own it?”

  “Yes,” he said, the beginning of so many lies. “Thanks so much for driving me. Before you go, I have a surprise for you both.”

  He instantly realized how disturbing that sounded. Why would he have a surprise for two people that he didn’t know would be giving him a ride home? He cringed as we waited for her reply.

  “A surprise?” Violet asked cautiously. She knew something wasn’t right. Any gracious, normal human being would have thanked her again and gotten out of the car already. She began to press herself against the door, ready to grab the handle. Ben was interested, though, and leaned in to hear more.

  “Inside,” he added. “There’s something really neat I want to show you. This house is over a hundred years old.”

  Ben’s eyes lit up with thoughts of ghosts and ghouls and trap doors. “Cool!” he said enthusiastically, and Jeremy was suddenly glad for his miniature presence.

  “No Ben,” Violet said firmly. “It’ll have to wait.” She turned to Jeremy. “We really do have to get back, my mom is expecting us. Thanks though, maybe some other time.” She had no intention of returning though, and Jeremy knew it. He would have to use another tactic; the very one he’d been dreading.

  He winced and reached into his back pocket. Not the one with his wallet. He pulled out the gun slowly.

  “I didn’t want to have to do this,” he said, and it was the honest truth. Their eyes swelled in size and Jeremy was close enough to see Violet’s chest rising and falling faster than before with tiny, stunted breaths.

  “I’m sorry. This is awful, I know. But you have to come inside with me. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He was being too soft. “Well, I won’t hurt you if you come with me and don’t cause a scene.”

  “I’m sorry,” Violet quivered. “I’m not sure what you want from us, but I just, I thought you were a nice guy, I just wanted to give you a ride home, and maybe I can give you another ride home sometime, but we have to go. We have to go.”

  It sounded like she would repeat the phrase over and over if she could, but stopped herself. She looked at him with big, expectant eyes and hoped for mercy. What did this man want from them? She wanted to ask, but she wouldn’t. Not yet. She wanted to see if her plea had struck a chord. Shouldn’t it have? He seemed like such a nice man, so innocent and meek, as if he’d been trampled his entire life. But the car began to feel smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by, and she became acutely aware of just how far away she was from help.

  “I can’t let you go now,” he said. “I can’t.”

  Fear jolted through Violet’s body and even her ears began to tingle. What he’d said sounded definite, eternal. I’m about to take you into my basement and chop you up with a machete so you can never tell anyone what I’ve done.

  “I will let you go,” Jeremy added, not sure if he was lying. He supposed it was a truth, or at least that it would be someday. Nothing lasted forever, after all.

  “What do you want from us? I have some money on me, my tips from today. And if you let me drive to the bank, I can take out as much as I have in there. It’s not a lot, but maybe it could get you what you need?”

  Soon she was sure he would touch her, he would play explorer on her savage lands while she bucked and revolted against his hands. He would press his fingers into the dimples of her back and try to push her pelvis towards him as she held her breath and willed every opening in her body to close, to lock up and turn out the lights so he would stop knocking and go away.

  “Come inside with me,” Jeremy said in a low, gruff pitch. He turned b
ack towards Ben, who had been silent for some time.

  “Ben,” Violet said forcefully. “Ben, don’t you go anywhere. We’re staying here, okay? We’re staying here.” The last part was shifted to Jeremy.

  “Violet. Ben. You will come inside with me,” Jeremy said quietly. “You have to. I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice. I promise I won’t hurt you, I won’t even touch you. We can just head right inside.”

  But he looked around, and saw the trees for miles. They could run in any direction and he might not be able to catch them. They could hide. He would have to make a leash. There were no garbage bags to use, so he looked around for something else.

  “Stay here,” he said with more confidence than he felt, tenfold. “Pop the trunk. Please.”

  Violet did as he asked and Jeremy got out of the car, grabbing the keys from the ignition as he went. They were too scared to run, he realized. Of course they were terrified. Part of him was tempted to show them the gun up close and say, Look! No bullets in here! It’s made of plastic! It can’t hurt you!

  But he didn’t do that.

  He looked in the boot of the car and found bungee cords. He wondered if they were part of a care kit included when she was given her first car. Maybe she’d saved up for the vehicle all by herself, and had the wherewithal to think of the need for bungee cords all on her own. He grabbed them, bright red and yellow.

  Climbing back into the vehicle, he reached over to Violet and hated the way she flinched.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, because he had already broken his first promise; that he wouldn’t touch her. His hands fumbled awkwardly with the cord. It was so thick, not very long, and proved very difficult to tie around her wrist. He had to pull quite hard to make it stay, and he apologized over and over.

  Violet was crying. Drops rolled down her cheeks but she didn’t make a sound.

  Ben was next. Jeremy grabbed the other end of the cord and wrapped it around his birdlike wrist, so tiny it felt as if Jeremy could snap it if he tied too tightly. Ben flinched, and his cries were audible. They were expelled out into the air so loudly that they echoed back off the trees.