“You will, Lisa. I promise. All in due time.”
Lisa decided Mapother was being honest. He’s the one who’d recruited her, right? Maybe he did have a more important role for her to play. She had her own personal life to put back in order. Her relationship with Mike was deteriorating. That was a fact.
If he could only open up and stop acting like an automaton. Is it too much to ask?
Mapother’s voice brought her back to reality. “You heard me, Lisa?”
“Yes, of course I did.”
“Something’s bothering you?” Mapother asked.
The man is clever. He knows something isn’t right with me. But this is not the place or the moment to talk about my personal problems.
“The photo is, Charles,” she replied with her finger pointing at the picture on Mapother’s desk. “Ray is a good man. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“I’ve never met the man,” Mapother said, “but I heard he’s very good at what he does.”
“Yeah, he is,” Lisa said, thinking about what a jovial human being Mike’s father was. Always smiling, congratulating others for their accomplishments while diminishing his own. She continued, “It didn’t matter if we were at a backyard barbecue or at a black-tie dinner. Ray, for as long as I can remember, was always the center of attention. People wanted to be close to him, to be associated with him in any way they could. He was just that kind of person.”
“He still is,” Mapother said.
“But for how long?”
CHAPTER 17
Brooklyn, New York
The steady rhythm of his running shoes impacting the gravel path brought a satisfied smile to Mike’s sweaty face.
The penthouse had been a good purchase. It’s close to the running paths, and there are enough trees around to forget I’m only ten minutes away from Manhattan.
He’d been out of the hospital for four weeks and in the new condo for ten days. To please the seller, who had accepted a job in Los Angeles, they had closed the deal rapidly. In return for a fast transaction, the seller had agreed to leave all the furniture behind. That had made Lisa very happy because everything was new and modern. Mike wondered if anyone had ever sat on the sofa. Without many personal possessions, it took only a few hours for him and Lisa to feel right at home.
As he pushed his legs to go faster, Mike realized how good he felt. Truth be told, he never thought that he could get back into shape so rapidly. His previous strength was gradually returning, and every week he was able to train with heavier weights. The results were impressive, and the doctors following his progress were astonished.
Mike was now reaching the halfway mark of his four-mile route. He was surprised by how quickly New York had come to feel like home to him. Born in Florida while his father was serving as a liaison officer for the RCMP, Mike had enjoyed the many benefits of dual citizenship and had traveled extensively in the United States for business and pleasure. He loved the anonymity that a big American city provided. And, he reasoned darkly, since he didn’t have any blood relatives left, with the exception of his kidnapped father, anywhere on earth could feel like home.
As he rounded the northern end of Cadman Plaza Park, he checked his watch and was pleased to see that he had run the first three kilometers in less than thirteen minutes.
He went down on all fours to do his regular routine of midrun push-ups.
As he completed his seventieth, he heard a voice over him. “I’m glad to see that your fitness level is returning to normal.”
Mike angled his head and saw Charles Mapother not five feet away from him, sitting on a park bench. He was dressed in a black Under Armour running outfit and white running shoes.
“Good morning, Charles,” said Mike, hopping to his feet. “How did you know where to find me? I guess I’m pretty predictable, huh?”
That made Mapother smile. “Would it be all right if I joined you for the remainder of your circuit?”
“Sure,” answered Mike. In fact, he’d been wondering for the last few weeks when the director of IMSI would make contact with him again.
“But you’ll have to slow down to allow an old dog like me to keep up.”
Mike made a mock groan as they started along the gravel path. As they ran, Mike noticed it was the older man who was doing most of the talking, yet he wasn’t breathing hard at all. Seventeen minutes later, when they arrived in front of Mike’s condominium, Mapother had still barely broken a sweat.
“Not bad for an old dog,” Mike joked.
Mapother smiled modestly and looked off to the horizon. “So Mike, did you think about my offer?”
There it is.
“I did.”
“Have you decided whether or not you want to work with us?”
Good question, Mike thought as he stretched out his limbs. He had talked a lot with his wife about the events that had robbed them of their children and parents two months ago. Each conversation had only fortified their desire for justice. And IMSI was one way to fulfill that desire.
Especially after what they did to my father.
Lisa was already working at IMSI headquarters doing “administrative duties,” but she never discussed them with her husband. Not that he wasn’t curious, but each time he asked, his wife would gently smile and tell him that she couldn’t betray Mapother’s confidentiality. Of course Mike respected that—but still, he wondered about what she was doing every day when she left their new Brooklyn penthouse.
“It’s certainly tempting, Charles. You played your cards well,” Mike said. “How could I say no after viewing the despicable picture of my father you showed Lisa and me?”
“I really want you on our team, Mike.”
“But don’t you think it would be better if I knew exactly what I would be signing up for before giving you my answer?”
“I guess you’re right,” Mapother said after a moment of reflection.
“Why don’t you join us for lunch? I’ll grill some chicken breasts and sausages,” Mike offered.
Mapother looked at his watch. “I can do that. Around noon?”
“Sounds good to me. Do you need a ride back?”
“No, thank you. My car will be here shortly.”
As if on cue, a black late-model Jaguar XJ with heavily tinted windows pulled up next to them.
“See you later,” Mapother said before getting in the backseat.
―
Mike spent an hour on the Internet reading the numerous newspapers he followed daily. The news was once again depressing. There was a minor bombing in Rome. Berlin’s subway had ground to a halt because of rail sabotage. In Paris, two Islamic gunmen had opened fire on a group of tourists. Every day terrorists were making the front pages. People were scared. That much was evident. Businesses working with small profit margins were closing their doors. Even here, in New York, Mike had seen many business owners barricading their windows. And they weren’t the only ones doing so. To Mike’s surprise, he had also observed a few Starbucks stores with their doors locked during his morning run. God knows the economy is going to shit when a staple like Starbucks closes shop.
Frustrated, he got up from the kitchen table and headed toward the bedrooms. Lisa had turned one of the three bedrooms into a large office and another into a home gym. Even though they hadn’t talked about it specifically, the meaning of this particular setup was pretty clear to him. There wouldn’t be another child. At least not while they were living in this penthouse.
When Mike entered the gym room, he found Lisa running hard on the treadmill. Mike approached her from behind and looked at the LCD display on the machine.
Five kilometers in twenty minutes?
Lisa, still unaware that her husband was right behind her, pressed the accelerator key until she reached a speed of eighteen kilometers per hour.
That’s faster than most ERT guys
can run, thought Mike, impressed.
Finally, after two minutes, his wife pressed the decelerator arrow and settled in for a slow jog.
“Lisa?”
“Hey!” she answered between hard breaths. She pressed the stop key, and the treadmill slowly came to a halt.
“I didn’t know you were that fast,” he said, circling her small waist with his arms. “I’m glad I scooped you up when I did all those years ago, or else I’d never have been able to catch you.” He picked her up in his arms, and she squealed, playfully punching him in the shoulder.
“Let me down!” she yelled, but Mike knew she loved every moment of it. It felt good to hold her in his arms. His wife had remained distant, even cold, with him since the tragedy. After giving her a peck on the cheek, he gently placed her feet back on the ground in front of the big floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the East River.
“By the way, did you know that I met Charles Mapother on my way back from my run?” he asked her.
Lisa turned around and looked at her husband. The playfulness had left her eyes. “Why would I know that?”
“Come on, Lisa. You’ve been working for him for a while now. How else would he know that I was ready to talk to him about IMSI?”
He never saw it coming. It was so sudden. She slapped him on the cheek so hard he took an involuntary step back. What the hell?
“Don’t you trust me anymore? You think I’m keeping tabs on you?” she asked with barely controlled rage. She closed the distance between them, her fists closed.
Mike was at loss. He’d been walking on eggshells since he’d left the hospital. Following their psychologist’s suggestion, he’d consulted a book that said someone’s personality could change drastically after the loss of a child. No one reacted the same way following a profound personal tragedy. He understood that. But he never thought his wife would strike him.
Mike took a few steps back and raised his hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about this, Lisa. Let’s all calm down for a second,” he offered with a weak smile that looked more like a sneer his cheek hurt so much.
“You want me to calm down?” she hissed. “You’re the one who thinks I’m spying on you.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention,” Mike apologized. A little voice in his head was telling him that the best way to defuse the situation was to look remorseful.
“Bullshit! You don’t trust me because I wasn’t able to protect your children. Do you really think I don’t know what’s going on in your head, Mike?”
“If you really knew, you wouldn’t talk to me like that,” Mike muttered.
She responded hysterically to the tone of his voice. “Every time you look at me, I feel like a failure. Every time I look at you, I feel like a failure. Do you know what I mean? Do you really think I’m worthless?”
Mike fought to keep the tears he felt coming in check. He whispered, “No. You’re the most precious person in my life, Lisa.”
For a few seconds, Mike thought Lisa was about to become herself again. That thought didn’t last long.
“Liar,” was all she said before stalking out of the room. A few seconds later he heard the door of the penthouse slam.
Then the phone rang.
Like a robot, Mike walked to it and grabbed the receiver.
“Yes?”
“Mike, it’s Charles Mapother. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and I’m bringing someone along. You better have enough chicken and sausages to feed two hungry men.”
Mike didn’t respond. His mind was replaying over and over what had just happened with his wife.
“Mike? Are you still there?” Mapother asked. “I said I’m bringing someone over.”
“Sorry, Charles. I have to step out. I’ll call you when I get back.”
―
After hanging up the phone, Mike ran to the door. There was no way he was going to give up on his marriage or let Lisa walk out of the building this way. He needed her, and he knew she needed him.
Are you sure about this, Mike? Or is it wishful thinking?
Refusing to let self-doubt slow him down, Mike willed the elevator to go faster. He was confident Lisa was in their interior parking garage. For as long as he remembered, Lisa had liked to drive when she needed a moment for herself. She’d done so more and more recently but had always come back to him. This time was different; there was a nagging feeling in his gut telling him he needed to stop Lisa from leaving.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, Mike hurried out of the vestibule. He jogged toward the two parking spots where their vehicles were located. Expecting one of them to be gone, Mike was surprised to see both SUVs at their usual places. Allowing himself to relax a little, Mike started walking while formulating what he wanted to say to his wife. As he approached the vehicle, Mike realized that the engine was running. Through the darkened windshield, he could see Lisa’s silhouette slumped over the steering wheel.
Oh my God, no! Lisa! Mike’s heart sank.
He ran to the driver’s door and tried to open it.
Locked! Hang on, baby. Hang on!
For a second, he thought he saw Lisa move. Using his elbow, Mike hit the driver-side window, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Ignoring the pain caused by an embedded shard of glass, he was moving his hand inside the vehicle to unlock the door when he saw Lisa’s head turning toward him.
“Mike! For God’s sake, what are you doing?”
Mike, caught by surprise, couldn’t utter a word. From her puffy eyes, tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was shaking her head at him.
“What are you doing?” she repeated.
“I thought…” he hesitated.
“What?”
“I thought you needed assistance, Lisa. I thought you needed me.”
She wiped her tears with her forearm. “I came down here to think, Mike.”
“I just…It’s just that when I saw you with your head on the steering wheel and the engine running, you know?”
A look of disappointment washed over Lisa’s face. “You thought I had killed myself?” Her voice was only a whisper.
Mike shrugged in apology. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Lisa.”
“You know me better than that, Mike. I’d never do such a thing. You and I might not grieve the same way, but I’m a fighter, too.”
A sudden wave of nausea prevented Mike from answering. Light-headed, he weakly walked to the rear of the vehicle, where he collapsed on his knees. Breathing hard, he heard Lisa’s hurried footsteps behind him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, a hand on his shoulder.
Mike looked into his wife’s eyes and saw she was genuinely worried. “I’m so sorry, honey, so sorry,” he started before completely losing it. How could I ever doubt my wife this way? An overwhelming sadness took control over his will, and he began to cry. Memories of his daughter Melissa and his mother came rushing back to him, opening the valves he had fought so hard to keep shut. His father, tied to a cross, yelling his name over and over and images of his pregnant wife, laughing and beaming with joy cascaded in his mind. He was emotionally spiraling out of control, and he couldn’t say if the guttural cry he was hearing was his or not. Despair had finally taken over.
―
Seeing her husband on his hands and knees, crying like she’d never seen him cry before, made Lisa feel powerless. And confused.
Maybe he does feel something after all? She kneeled down next to him and held him in her arms, saying nothing, hoping her presence next to him would be enough to make him understand he wasn’t alone.
What happened to us? What happened to me? Lisa wondered, looking around her. We’re on our knees, in a fucking garage, crying our hearts out. That wasn’t part of the plan. Shit!
Deep down, she knew she was the one who’d pushed him over the edge. All the fights she�
��d picked with him, her hair-trigger temper, her rages—all had taken their toll on him she now realized.
With tears welling up in her eyes, she placed her lips to his ear and whispered, “I love you, Mike. I’m here for you as you were for me during all these months. I’ve let you down, I’ve let us down, but I’m back now, and I want to be close to you again. Will you let me?”
For a few seconds, Mike only appeared to cry even harder. But then, he opened his eyes and placed his right hand on top of Lisa’s. “You didn’t let us down, Lisa. We both drifted apart. We’ve been drifting for a while now. I couldn’t seem to find the right words to comfort you. You were in a dark place, my love. A very, very dark place.”
Removing her hand from under her husband’s, she gently used both to force him to look at her. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said softly, feeling her throat tighten around each word. “For a while, I kind of felt like you didn’t deserve me, Mike.”
“But why?” her husband asked.
With the tip of her fingers, she wiped away the tears from his cheeks and tenderly kissed the place where they had been. “Because I had the impression that I was the one doing the suffering for both of us.”
“Oh, Lisa, I’m sorry, I—”
“I know, Mike. I know now that you’ve been suffering too. You just never opened up to me like you’re doing now…I felt so alone, but now I feel I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. I shouldn’t have doubted you, my love.”
“Don’t say that,” Mike replied in a broken voice. “I think we understand that we might not grieve the same way. And that’s okay. The important thing is that we support each other, no matter what.”
Lisa looked into the kind eyes of the man in front of her. She felt his warmth, and for the first time in a long while, she let her guard down and kissed him tenderly on his lips. A moment later, she heard him groan. “What’s wrong?”
“Your hand,” he replied.
She followed his stare. Her right hand was holding his left arm just over the elbow where a shard of glass was sticking out. “You’re injured? Oh my. You did this when you broke the window.” She stood up and helped her husband to his feet. “Let’s go back to the condo. I’ll fix you up.”
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