The Broadcast

by Liam Fialkov

  “It was him, Megan,” Sarah dryly replied.

  “Him… What?” Megan said, although she immediately understood what Sarah meant.

  “He is the bastard who drugged and then raped me,” Sarah said in a choked voice. “Please, find out about him, it is very important to me.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Megan promised. “Give me two to three days.”

  After two days Megan called. “Sarah,” she said, “I got the details you asked for. I went to the church and told them some story about how thanks to Father Buckner, I’ve found God, and I want to meet him so I can thank him. It turns out he is retired and lives in a quiet neighborhood with his wife. I even drove by his house.”

  “Thank you so much!” Sarah was moved by the efforts that her old friend had devoted to her plea.

  “But Sarah,” Megan warned, “are you sure you want to open the old wounds?”

  “Those wounds have never healed,” Sarah decisively replied.

  “So what are you going to do?” Megan wanted to know.

  “I’ll fly to St. Louis and confront him,” Sara asserted.

  “You can stay at my place,” Megan said. “I have a big house, and my children have already left the nest.”

  “Thank you, Megan.” Sarah was touched by the gestures that her old friend made.

  For Megan, it was an opportunity to rectify her own feelings. The memory of the painful ordeal that Sarah went through had never been erased from her mind. She was the one who had spent that fateful evening with Sarah, and on occasions, when she pondered the affair, she was aware of the fact that it could have happened to her. Megan thought that the grown-ups in Sarah’s life—the parents, and schoolteachers—did not treat her in a fair and decent manner; and she felt she hadn’t adequately supported Sarah either, because she was too busy with her own private, teenage issues. Megan decided that if Sarah needed closure, she would do her best to help her.

  Sarah flew to St. Louis, and Megan waited for her at the terminal. Then, Megan drove her car to her modest house, where she lived alone. It turned out she had separated from her husband after many years of living together, and her two grown kids had already left the house and gone their own ways. Sarah and Megan spent the evening talking at the kitchen table. They talked about themselves and about some of what they had gone through over the years. Sarah was interested to hear about a few of her classmates who had stayed in St. Louis, whom she hadn’t heard from in years. She shared with Megan some of the occurrences of her life, and didn’t hide the overwhelming impact that the rape incident and what had followed had on her life.

  On the following day, Megan suggested that Sarah would borrow her car, and Sarah gratefully accepted the offer. She went on her way to the address that Megan handed her. Using the GPS, she had no difficulty in finding the priest’s house. It was a big house that resided in a quiet and affluent neighborhood. Sarah parked the car. She walked through a gate in a white fence. Behind the fence there was a nurtured, green lawn, and a well maintained flower garden.

  Sarah made it to the front door and rang the bell with a pounding heart. She hadn’t planned what to say. It was obvious that her showing up there was a statement in itself, which could not be interpreted in two ways.

  A nice-looking elderly woman opened the door. “Good morning, young lady,” the woman cordially welcomed Sarah. “Who are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for Father Buckner,” Sarah said, and tried to sound businesslike, and not belligerent.

  “Please wait,” the woman said. She turned around. “Mathew!” she called her husband, “there’s a young lady here who is looking for you!”

  Father Mathew Buckner showed up from inside the house. His hair had gone silver, and his face had several wrinkles, but he was still a good-looking man who conveyed solemnity. He noticed Sarah and hesitated for a moment, as if wondering if it was really her, and then he looked at her as if he had seen a ghost.

  “Sarah.” His face became pale, “I haven’t seen you for so many years.” He tried to put on a smile. “How have you been?”

  Sarah stood in her place, displayed her presence, and waited for him to invite her into the house, and she had no intention of leaving if he refused to receive her. Buckner’s wife watched her husband and the unfamiliar woman. She understood that something was transpiring between them; she felt the tension in the air and didn’t know what to do. Should she invite the mysterious woman in? Or perhaps her husband would prefer that she send her away.

  “Gladys.” The priest turned to his wife after a moment of perplexity. “Sarah and I have a matter to discuss, and we’ll sit in my office.

  He led Sarah to a room in the interior part of the house, pointed to an armchair, and sat in front of her. His face was no longer friendly looking. Now he looked angry and even threatening.

  “What do you want?” he uttered.

  “The truth,” she said.

  “We both know what happened a long time ago, and there’s nothing new.” He tried to evade her.

  “I didn’t come here to reminisce over old memories,” she said. “What happened was that you took advantage of me and raped me when I was sixteen.”

  He looked gloomy. “The truth is,” he said in a subdued voice, “that I’m really sorry about what happened. I know that I caused you pain and it tortures me. Believe me, it was a moment of weakness in which the devil overcame me and I surrendered to the old Adam.”

  His voice weakened during his talk, and he looked like he was going to burst into tears, but she didn’t feel any sympathy for him.

  “If you want money, I’m willing to pay,” he muttered.

  “You don’t want to know if you had a son, or perhaps a daughter?” she asked.

  “Please, just go,” he responded. “I’ll pay for my sins, to you and the Creator.”

  “Were there other women?”

  “No, I swear that there were not. It was a one-time stumble.”

  “So, I request that you confess in front of me, your wife, and your kids,” she said in a grave tone of voice. She despised the man who continued to lead a comfortable life after he had harmed her. She didn’t believe that his conscience was bothering him.

  “Sarah,” he pleaded, “my wife and kids are not at fault.”

  She knew he was right. “Alright,” she consented, “I’ll take your filthy money and donate it to sexually abused women’s shelters. I demand four thousand dollars per month and don’t try to bargain, or you’ll find your face smeared all over the newspapers.”

  “But that is my entire pension,” he protested.

  “That’s really not my problem,” she responded in a harsh voice. She got up from the chair and made her way to the door.

  “Is everything alright, lady?” Mrs. Buckner asked.

  “I’ll be fine,” Sarah answered, and left the house.

  Sarah told Megan how the meeting went.

  “I admire your courage,” Megan said.

  “It is something that I had to do,” Sarah said, “to bring this affair to closure.”

  On the following day, Megan drove Sarah to the airport. The two of them walked around the terminal while waiting for the flight. Their eyes were drawn to the newspaper stand, where the front page of the local newspaper, the St. Louis Post, displayed a large photo of Father Buckner. The headline declared: “Priest’s Body Pulled from River.” Below, in a secondary headline, it was written: “Murder or suicide? The police investigate.” In the body of the article, it said that Father Buckner was loved and appreciated by everyone who knew him, and for many years he had led his parish with love, under the spirit of God.

  “Take care of yourself, my friend,” Megan said and affectionately hugged Sarah.

  “You’re a wonderful friend,” Sarah whispered with tears in her eyes.

  Chapter 45

  Michael

  After Lily’s visit to New York, Michael decided to keep a closer connection with his little sister. He didn’t know what it w
as that worried him. Was it the arrogant Bradley, whom he certainly didn’t like? Or perhaps it was the way Lily behaved next to her boyfriend.

  Now he called her at least twice a week, during the evening, and the two siblings spent hours in long conversations in which they learned about each other more than ever before. Michael found out that behind Lily’s cheerful and optimistic appearance, hid an insecure soul, who didn’t know what her place in the world was. He learned that she was dealing with unrealistic expectations and image, and she even tended toward melancholy.

  And Lily learned what she had always known about her brother, but now she saw with increased depth and clarity: that he’d never got over being adopted, and he carried within him a deep yearning to meet his biological parents, especially his mother.

  Lily understood that her brother’s spirit would not be at peace until he could find, or at least make an effort to find his biological mother; and so, Lily started to encourage him to make the significant step toward resolving the riddle that haunted him for so many years.

  “Search for her, Michael,” Lily said, “She brought you into the world, and you need to hear from her and ask her why she gave you up for adoption.”

  “But what about our parents?” Michael questioned. Wouldn’t such a move hurt them? Wouldn’t it be a show of mistrust toward them, after everything they have done for me? And they are such wonderful parents.”

  “They will understand, Michael,” Lily was convinced, “If you want to meet your birth mother, it doesn’t mean you don’t love them.”

  On one occasion, he called her as usual and found her crying. “He dumped me, Michael!” she wept. “Found himself some southern bimbo with silicon boobs.”

  Michael knew that the separation was unavoidable, and now it was his obligation to do his best to support his little sister. He listened to her crying, to her sorrow, despair, and to her feeling that life was meaningless. He heard from her that she wasn’t interested in her boring studies and she intended to quit school. She pondered going on a plane and flying to South America or India, or perhaps she could inject herself with hard drugs, or become a dancer in a strip club. He listened patiently to things she said and to words she didn’t say, reading between the lines. He saw that she had indeed arrived at a delicate point, and she might make a dangerous move, and he was worried.

  “Lily,” he asked, “would you like me to come and visit you?”

  “What? You’re crazy?” she said, “You’ve got a life of your own.”

  “Lily,” he asked, “what is your room number at the dormitory?”

  “Room number 517, if you insist; but you must promise me that you won’t come if I don’t invite you, or if you don’t hear from me.”

  “I promise,” he said. “Do you have a roommate?”

  “I do.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Tanisha.”

  “An exotic name.”

  “African-American; a great woman.”

  “Could I have her phone number?”

  “Don’t exaggerate, Michael, unless you want to hit on her, and I don’t think that is your intention.”

  “I’m worried about you, sister,” he honestly said.

  “Thanks, Michael, but I’ll be alright.”

  “True,” he agreed, “you’ll be fine. You’ll see that time heals, and one day you’ll be grateful for what has happened.”

  “I hope you are right.”

  One evening he called her, and there was no answer. He tried a few more times, and still no answer. He was very worried. He remembered that even as a little boy, when she was a baby, he’d felt that it was his duty to protect her. He recalled that he promised not to come unannounced unless he didn’t hear from her—and now he wasn’t hearing from her.

  “I’m worried, Melanie,” he told his girlfriend.

  “Maybe she is busy, or perhaps she has an evening class,” Melanie said.

  “I know she doesn’t have classes this evening,” Michael, who was familiar with his sister’s schedule, replied.

  “So what can you do?” Melanie wondered. “Are you thinking of calling the police?”

  “It is still too soon,” he answered. “The police won’t investigate a missing person case before twenty-four hours have passed.”

  “Maybe you could try calling the student dorms,” she suggested.

  “Good idea,” he replied. He tried to call the center of the student dormitories at Duke University, but there was no answer.

  “Melanie,” he asked, “could you drive me to the train station?”

  “Now?” she wondered.

  “Yes,” he nodded, “I’ll catch the night train, and I’ll be in North Carolina in the morning.”

  “It is possible she just forgot to turn on her phone, or perhaps she lost it,” Melanie said.

  “Then we’ll meet, have breakfast together, and I’ll come back home,” he responded.

  Michael had been on trains only several times in his life, and it was always an enjoyable experience for him. As a child, he curiously looked out of the windows, while the galloping train passed over unfamiliar terrains, through towns and villages. He liked to run around the different train cars, each one of them was a world unto itself. And the monotonous sound of the train dashing over the rails had a relaxing effect on him.

  Also this time he had the sensation that the train would bring him safely to his destination. He shifted his chair backward, wrapped himself with his coat, and closed his eyes.

  In the morning the train pulled into the Durham Train Station, and from there he took a taxi to Duke University. It was before 8:00 a.m. when he rang the door of Room 517 in the student dormitories.

  “Just a minute!” he heard a woman’s voice that wasn’t his sister.

  Then the door was opened by a beautiful, young African-American woman. She was wearing a robe and looked sleepy.

  “Are you Tanisha?” he asked.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I am Michael, Lily’s brother,” he presented himself.

  “Oh gosh, come in, I apologize for the mess.”

  He stepped in, looked around, and saw a typical student room.

  “All night I tried to call her,” Tanisha said, “I’m worried. Where did you come from, anyway?”

  “From New York, and I’m very worried.”

  “Sit down, please, I’ll be dressed in a minute, and then we could look for her together.”

  Michael was glad for having an ally, but his worry increased. He remembered things that his sister told him—how she was thinking of injecting herself with hard drugs—and his anxiety rose when he recalled the woman who had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, just before he got there.

  Tanisha was dressed within a short time. She could be a model; the thought crossed his mind as he observed her standing in her comfortable, athletic outfit.

  “OK, so let’s see,” Tanisha said, “First, let’s scan a few places in the university, and if we don’t find her, we’ll continue to Durham.”

  “When did you last speak to her?” he inquired.

  “Yesterday morning, before she left for class.”

  “And how did she look?”

  “As usual. You probably know that recently she has been kind of depressed, since she broke up with that maniac, Bradley. But yesterday I didn’t see anything exceptional.”

  Tanisha walked swiftly, and Michael hurried in her footsteps. She knocked on a few doors at the women’s living quarters and then continued to the men’s area. Michael was amazed to see how familiar she was with the people in his sister’s life. While walking through the dorms, she also made phone calls to students who weren’t in their rooms, or that didn’t dwell in the dormitories. It turned out that Lily had indeed attended the morning classes of the previous day, but when the afternoon class started at 1:30 p.m., she was already absent.

  The time was only eight thirty in the morning. There was plenty of time before they could c
all the police, because they knew that the police would not move into action before there had been twenty-four hours since the disappearance.

  Tanisha didn’t stop and even accelerated her steps. They checked several locations on the huge campus, and at nine thirty they took a break in a cafeteria, to eat and make further plans. Tanisha bought herself a cup of coffee with a croissant, and Michael got himself a cup of coffee and a cheese sandwich.

  “She’s not in the university,” Tanisha said, “We’ll have to go to Durham. Let’s take my car.” It was a small, red Nissan. Tanisha drove confidently, and fast, passing slow drivers. “Isn’t it annoying how slow they drive?” she uttered while turning on the radio and looking for a local news station.

  “You don’t have classes this morning?” Michael asked.

  “I have a class, but your sister is more important to me,” she answered. “We are like sisters,” she added and laughed, “only that she is white and I’m black.” Tanisha parked her car next to the Durham bus station, where they showed Lily’s photo, on their cell phones, to the workers of the place, but nobody recognized her. Then they went to the train station, where they also showed Lily’s photo, smiling peacefully, to workers there. But nobody remembered her.

  They walked in the downtown area. “What time is it?” Tanisha asked.

  “Already eleven thirty,” he answered. “In a little while we’ll call the police.” He tried to call Lily again, as he had throughout the day. No answer. Their ears caught a familiar song: “Always look on the bright side of life,” of the Monty Python group. Michael didn’t notice the song that stopped after a short while, but Tanisha got tense. “Call again!” she excitedly requested and started to run in the direction from where she’d heard the song. “What’s happening?” he asked while dialing Lily’s number and running after Tanisha. Once again they heard the song, “Always look on the bright side of life.” This time it sounded much closer.

  “It’s her ringtone!” Tanisha shouted in his direction, and she stopped next to a bench, where a homeless woman lay. “Call again,” Tanisha said, and he obeyed. The ringtone came from the woman. Both of them stood, catching their breaths and looked at the woman.