Once, We Were Stolen

by Courtney Symons

  The second time I went to visit him was when I first started high school. By that point, I’d gotten used to the long looks people gave on the street, and the questions they couldn’t resist asking. Sometimes I pretended I didn’t know what they were talking about. It blew people’s minds that I could be so nonchalant about something they deemed so tragic.

  I am not a tragedy.

  When I went to see him the second time, I took this sentiment with me. I wanted Jeremy to see that he hadn’t ruined me. I wasn’t sure if I meant it to be for his benefit or detriment. Whether it was a Look Jeremy, I’m alright! I turned out okay! A proud child displaying a painting to be hung on the fridge. Or a Jeremy, you were not capable of ruining me.

  I didn’t say much. He was still in a cell then, with a bed, a television, a desk, carpet. That was one of the things I was most glad to hear, that he had a carpet beneath his feet. I’m not sure why. I didn’t actually see his cell because he came out to a common room for the visit. He told me about it when I asked. He seemed surprised both to see me and that I was concerned about his living conditions.

  “Ben,” he said, looking me right in the eyes. I knew his vision would be blurry; it had to be with the tears I saw forming in each duct. “I am so, so very sorry.”

  He meant it, I know he did. It wasn’t just the next step his psychologist had advised.

  “I know,” I replied. I wasn’t ready to absolve him, not then. I didn’t know if I ever could. I was still young and a little angry.

  He looked haggard. Black circles raccooned his eyes. You couldn’t tell they were green anymore, too sunken. His red hair flailed wildly around his head. This was nothing new; I’d seen his hair crazy before, but it took on a particularly striking quality against the staunch grey and white surrounding us. He was aging at an alarming rate. His movements were small and silent; he did whatever he could to ensure no one feared him. I wondered what sort of a hell this prison was for him. I wondered if they tore him apart.

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m okay,” I said. “I just started high school and my grades are alright and my life is good.” I didn’t want to harm or help him at that moment, I only wanted to get it off my chest.

  “I’m glad,” he said.

  There wasn’t anything else I wanted from that meeting, and I didn’t have the strength to stay any longer. I nodded at him, got up and walked away.

  Years passed before I thought about visiting again, although he was often in my thoughts. Every Christmas, I get a card from him. I don’t know if it’s legal, and part of me thinks it’s one of his followers, his sympathizers and cheerleaders who sneak the cards out for him. Vi gets one, too. Two separate envelopes, two chances of getting caught. But they come every year. Even after I moved out, Vi set aside my card for me every holiday season.

  The third time was after I’d met Arthur. I was falling in love, and that was something I had secretly feared I would be unable to do. I assumed I would have walls, shields I’d use to lock people out.

  I realized soon after that those seeds of doubt were planted externally. Every article written about us sang our sorrows. Our mother hugged us for minutes on end after each publication, and the urge I felt to squirm out of her grip made me wonder if everyone was right. Maybe I was ruined in some way.

  But along came Arthur, and I knew I could prove them wrong. When I came out, I wanted Jeremy to know. This time, I wasn’t bitter. I simply wanted him to see the person I was becoming. I don’t think he hindered the person I became. I was so young, with so much time left to self-correct. Maybe I wanted Jeremy to feel a little less guilt. I was sure he worried and wondered about us, and I hoped it might make his imprisoned life a little easier if I told him I was okay, if I showed him.

  I didn’t tell anyone I was going. Not even Arthur, although I ended up admitting it to him months later, which was met with a long hug and a big squeeze, as if I must really need it. I probably did.

  Jeremy was just the same, but with streaks of grey through his hair. The same tired face that lit up as much as possible when he saw me.

  “Ben,” he said instantly, “I’m so happy to see you.” I could tell he was scared to say anything more; he had no idea why I’d come back.

  “Hi, Jeremy,” I said, this time determined to stay longer. “How are things?” A silly question, but I figured it was a nicety I shouldn’t cast aside.

  “Oh, you know,” he said. “Same old. The food isn’t the greatest, but I have my own space. I do a lot of reading, a lot of writing. I go for runs and work out, too.”

  I could see the wiry gristle of his body beneath his shirt. There was a sinewy strength about him, like he was made of barbed wire.

  “Do people bother you in here?” I asked.

  “Nah, not too badly,” he said, but I could tell he was lying.

  I remember being struck with the panic of not knowing what to say. I remembered the purpose of my visit, and I updated him on my life, on Arthur. Jeremy didn’t blink when I told him I was in a same-sex relationship. Didn’t flinch or cringe. I always loved people a little more when they responded that way. My own mother flinched.

  “Are you surprised?” I asked, wondering if I’d given off hints I hadn’t been aware of.

  “Surprised?” he repeated. “Not really. I mean, I didn’t guess either way. Does he make you happy?” Jeremy added, but not as an afterthought.

  “Yeah,” I said honestly. More than anyone else ever has, I held back saying. I didn’t know for sure it was true.

  “Well, I’m happy to hear it then,” Jeremy said. “I imagine you’ll face some people out there who don’t understand. But honestly? Fuck ‘em. It’s too bad that they’re so miserable, but it has nothing to do with you.”

  The word fuck out of his mouth hadn’t been violent or vulgar. Only heartfelt.

  “Thanks,” I said, and I meant it. No one’s words had made me feel better about the situation than his.

  I didn’t stay long after that. It depressed us to talk about how close Jeremy might be to getting out. The parole boards had never been on his side. Even with spotless behaviour, they weren’t convinced. Maybe it was the length of time we spent with him, maybe it’s because there were two of us or because Vi was a female or because I was so young. The facts stacked against him in the worst ways.

  When I got up to leave, I reached out my hand. I wasn’t sure why I did it, or whether I was even allowed to touch him. The guards permitted it though, and so did Jeremy. He grabbed my hand with force. I could feel all five of his fingers pressing into my palm. It was strangely comforting. We stood there for a moment in an awkward embrace that neither of us wanted to break.

  We finally let go. I think it was Jeremy who initiated the release.

  “Say hi to Vi for me, will you?” he asked as I turned to walk away. “She looked very beautiful the last time she came to see me.”

  The instant he said it, his face clouded over.

  “Vi visits you?” I asked. She’d never mentioned it to me. To be fair, I hadn’t mentioned my visits either, in fear of them hurting her. I wondered if she had done the same. “How often?”

  “Oh,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she hadn’t told you.” He looked so disappointed it made me want to cry . “She comes every few months. Maybe don’t mention to her that I told you? I don’t want to upset her.”

  I knew that he meant, I don’t want her to stop visiting me, and I understood. If Vi had made the decision, so many times, to come and see Jeremy without letting me know, then she should be able to keep making that decision on her own. I wondered what they talked about, what she told him about her life. Jeremy might be disappointed in her story. Maybe he feels responsible. Maybe he should. Vi could have sucked it up and gone to university and blossomed and met new people and fallen in love, but she’d chosen to avoid doing each and every one of those things. She lived like the whole world was a fright.

  I’ve seen her mentally preparing herself to go to
the grocery store. I noticed her breathing a little too quickly, and asked her what was wrong.

  “Nothing,” she minimized. “It’s just that there are a million choices to make at the grocery store. Knowing how to pick the best of everything is tricky. And at the cash registers, everyone is always in such a rush, and they look at you funny if you don’t have your own bags or if you fumble with your change.”

  Everyday tasks seemed to upset Vi increasingly. More and more, she asked favours of me – little errands she needed me to run. I knew it wasn’t because she was too busy. It was that she was too scared, and it seemed as though she was becoming more so all the time.

  I wondered if Jeremy could sense her increased fear of life. Did he council her on it? Did they sit and giggle like they used to around the campfire? I remembered with a pang the jealousy I felt when the two of them sat out there, conspiring.

  When I walked out of the prison that day, I took Jeremy with me more than I ever had before. He stayed in the back of my mind, in my bones. I didn’t mention my visit to Vi, but it sat on the tip of my tongue and I wondered why it was so hard to just say it. Something told me I shouldn’t. Vi was becoming more fragile by the day. I didn’t want to push her, or have her think I was judging.

  More years passed; we all grew older. Vi stopped working at the diner. She said she couldn’t face people anymore. I didn’t know what to do about it, and I wasn’t sure how she’d survive without an income but she told me not to worry. I tried to see her as often as I could, but life gets busy and every visit became more excruciating than the last.

  Today, I’m still living with Arthur. We’re not married, but we’ve talked seriously about it. It would be a small ceremony, nothing flashy. Neither of us has a big family or many friends.

  And today, for the first time since the last time, I went to visit Jeremy. I finally assembled all the questions I had for him, sorted out the things I felt he owed me an explanation for. The things I’d been too scared or unsure of to ask. But I had a list this time, and I felt entitled to some answers.

  I was nervous. I told myself it would be my last visit. Once I asked all my questions, I’d never need to rely on him again.

  I arrived, and this time Jeremy was waiting for me in a brown padded chair. He looked shrunken, like a human-shaped casing that someone had loosely stuffed with scraps. The circles around his eyes were darkened; bruises rimming his eyeballs like glasses. His sunken cheekbones made him appear emaciated. I could see his belly beneath the table though; he wasn’t starving. Excess material had collected around his waist like a lifesaver, but nothing about him looked like it had been, or could be, saved.

  “Hi,” I said to him, sitting down in a nearby chair.

  “Hello, Ben,” he said. I was amazed that his voice sounded the same. It wasn’t scratchier, more gruff or mean. It was the same as it had always been.

  “How are you doing?” he asked to break the silence.

  “I’m good,” I told him. “I’m good. Still with Arthur. We’re living together now and thinking about getting married.” I paused to read his reaction, cocking my head. He showed no sign of discomfort or distaste, and I loved him in that moment.

  “How are you?” I continued, not wanting to say too much, too soon.

  “Oh, you know,” he said. “I’m good.”

  I took a breath and decided my next question was valid. “Is it hard? To be cooped up in here?”

  “Well, how long has it been now?” he asked. “Twenty years?”

  “Almost exactly,” I confirmed.

  “That’s close to half my life. I’ve been here so long that I don’t remember what it’s like to be out. So I don’t miss it too much.”

  I wasn’t sure why those words shot a pang through me, but they led me to say to him next, “You don’t remember the time we lived with you?”

  “Yes,” he corrected. “Of course I remember. But it’s been long enough that I don’t miss the freedom of being out of here. I’m out of practise.”

  It was a lie and I knew it. It was written all over his face, all over his body. No one forgets what freedom tastes like, not when they’ve had it once. I’d be willing to bet he stored the feeling somewhere deep inside, an internal vial he could open and sniff from whenever he felt particularly powerless.

  I didn’t call him on his lie. I knew it was for my benefit, so that I didn’t feel bad about the fact that he was here because of something he had done to Vi and me. Or maybe that was just my own twisted reasoning, I’m not sure.

  “Is there any hope you might get out of here someday?”

  He nodded and took a sip of the glass of water in front of him. “It’s not hopeless. I go up against the parole board again next year, so there’s a chance they could let me go.” His eyes told me that there wasn’t really.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” I said. I couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry, I know that’s awful to say, but it’s just… It’s been so long, so much in my life has changed, so much in the world has changed. But for all of it, you’ve been stuck inside of here. Doesn’t it ever make you angry?”

  He smiled, a sad suggestion of amusement. “Sometimes. But I only have myself to blame. I committed a crime, and it wasn’t just a crime that took a second. It went on for a long time, you know how long.”

  “I know,” I said. “But when I look back on it now, I just think about it as the time I spent with you. I grew up a bit, I had a birthday, we celebrated Christmas… It was just a period of my life, no better or worse than any of the others.”

  It wasn’t a lie to make him feel better, it was as honest as I could get about emotions that made me uncomfortable. But emotions will do that to you.

  His eyes grew wider then. Not any less sad or aged, just wider. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said simply.

  “Jeremy,” I said, because I was ready, “Why us? Why us and not somebody else? Why at all?”

  He had planned for this, I could see by the subtle nod of his head. He had practised.

  “My life has been mostly miserable,” he started. “But then your sister came along. You spend your whole life ignored, and when someone finally pays attention it feels really good. I convinced myself I had found someone who understood me. She smiled at me, she laughed, and you know how pretty she is. I honestly fell in love with her in an instant. I wasn’t even aware of it, but I loved her from the start.”

  He paused for a moment. “One time, I thought I had struck up the nerve to talk to her. I was thinking about asking her on a date. I waited in the diner parking lot but when she finally came out, she was crying. She looked so hopeless. I remember thinking that nothing in the world should make a girl cry like that.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know what she was crying about, but in that moment, I convinced myself that maybe things were hard for her, too. Maybe she needed someone to help her out, and maybe I could be the one to do it.

  “And then it all happened so fast. I hate to say it, but I never planned for you at all, Ben. You were just picked up along the way. I wasn’t sure what else to do so I just let it happen.” He was trying to meet my eyes but kept looking at the floor.

  “There’s no excuse. Everyone gets lonely. But I was beyond lonely. I was empty. My life was nothing until you and Violet became part of it. Those months with the three of us in that house were the best in my life. I know it’s awful to say and I have no right to think it, but I did feel like we were a family. Maybe you weren’t there by choice, and I know now that it was monstrous for me to have kept you there. But it was the closest thing to a family I‘ve ever had.”

  I think he had more to say, but he lost his nerve. I could tell by his eyes that he wasn’t sure how I would react; if I would scream and rage or just get up and leave. I didn’t do any of those things. I did something that surprised even myself.

  “I understand,” I said. “I get it. Having a family, a support network, is something that everyone deserves. I know that, because I didn’t get one right
off the bat. I got lucky, and I ended up with a mom who did her best and a sister who loved me. And I got you.” I started to cry, I couldn’t help it. I didn’t even feel ashamed.

  “You taught me how to hunt for bugs. You let me stay up late and learn when my bedtime should be. You sang me happy birthday. You put bandages on my skinned knees and didn’t call me a sissy when I started to cry. You let me have a wild imagination and even let two invisible people come for dinner.” We both laughed a little. “I’ve become the person I am today because of everything that happened to me in my past. And you are a part of that.” I wanted to touch him but didn’t.

  “When I think back, I’m struck with the sensation that you are the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve struggled with it for years. I should hate you, everyone tells me I should. But I don’t. Not even a little.” Years of turmoil boiled down to the next moment.

  “Jeremy… I forgive you. I forgive you for everything you did and everything you didn’t let us do. It’s okay. It’s done with now. You’ve paid your dues, far beyond what I think you owed. You’re clean, Jeremy. There’s nothing left to fix.”

  I couldn’t say anything more. My throat was too raw. It might have been against the rules and against what anyone else in the world thought I should do, but I got up and I hugged Jeremy. I held onto him for a long time, and I held on tight. He did the same. We stayed like this, Jeremy still sitting in his brown padded chair, me standing beside him, squatting down, hugging. It probably didn’t look very dignified. I’m not sure I was allowed to touch him, but no one said anything and we remained that way until I finally pulled back. I instantly missed the press of his fingers on my back.