by Neven Carr
I moved away. “I’ve dirtied your shirt,” I half choked, brushing the dampened mascara on his shoulder.
“Hmmm, not the shirt that’s in such good taste.” He lifted my head with one hand and using the thumb from his other, he wiped away the smudges beneath my eyes. “There,” he said surveying his handiwork. “Beautiful, again.”
My cheeks heated and I turned away. “I want to go through these boxes. It may help me remember.”
“I agree. We can take them back to my place where you can study them without interruption… if you want.”
I did want.
It took some time, but together we managed to load all eight containers into Saul’s Jeep. We closed the metal door near the statue, re-covered it with the soil and spread vines and broken shrubbery to conceal it as best we could.
Before leaving, I knelt before the statue and gently ran my hand along the child at its feet. I didn’t know why, but in some strange way, I felt that this child symbolized me. I raised my heartfelt eyes to the vigilant ones of the angel, safely guarding the infant. For one small moment, I imagined it to be the face of Alice Polinski.
Whoever she was.
My guardian angel.
Chapter 15
Claudia
December 26, 2010
4:55 pm
“I NEED TO see my parents now,” I said, as we approached a major T-junction.
Saul appeared surprised. “Are you sure about this?”
The silent drive from Alice Polinski’s had given me ample time to reflect. “I need to know who she was; why I was with her.” And then in a low, deliberate voice. “I need to hear it from their mouths.”
Saul didn’t question me any further on it. He flicked on his indicator and turned right. The road was smooth and wide, so unlike the narrow, gritty one we had just left. One more turn saw us motoring along the four-lane highway towards Nankari Bay.
“Remembered where you’ve seen that statue?” Saul said.
Of course, I hadn’t and told him so. “It’s a weird feeling. I know it but I can’t recall anything else about it.”
“Do you remember any part of those seven years?”
“Not a single thing.”
“Didn’t you ever find that a little odd?”
I shook my head. “I thought it was normal. I mean, when were your first memories?”
Saul shrugged. “Perhaps three years old… definitely at four.”
I felt baffled; I’m sure I looked it.
“What about baby photos?”
Again, I shook my head. “My parents said they got destroyed in a flood or some such story. Now I know that was all a lie.” My blood was cooking. I could feel it, feel it sear my already hot skin. “So many bloody lies. And for so long.”
I stared ahead at the outside world, at the blue, cloudless skyline, at the uniform stream of mid-afternoon traffic. It appeared so normal, so in control. And I wondered how that was possible, when my own world was crumbling and with such heartless speed.
“You know, I actually entertained the thought that Alice Polinski could have been, dare I say it, my mother? But it’s not possible. The resemblance between Mama and me is too great. Not to mention that my brother, Nate, and I are almost identical.” I stopped and took breath. “Besides,” I continued between clenched teeth, “‘blood is thicker than water and the Cabriati blood is thicker than that’. What a crock of shit!”
I sounded like a ranting lunatic. I was also mindful that I wasn’t alone. Saul wore a smirk so huge it stressed his dimples. “What are you grinning at?” I asked, a little too gruffly.
“You,” he replied.
“I’m glad I amuse you.”
“Hmmm… not so much amuse. It’s just when you’re angry, your face changes to a bright crimson shade and your eyes sparkle more than usual. You have a very telling face.”
“So I’ve been told.” I looked away from him.
“I like telling faces.”
I didn’t know how to respond and decided to leave it alone.
A large Mobil service station and a relatively new Hungry Jacks signaled our arrival into Nankari. As we drove into its bustling heart, I began describing the directions to my parents’ house.
Saul threw me a brief look. “I already know where they live.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me? Is there anything you don’t know?”
“Quite a few things. But I try not to make it a habit.” He was as usual, calm and controlled, in complete contrast to me.
“Are you always so bloody composed?” I guessed my rising irritation was visible in my probably telling voice.
In what appeared to be an act of annoyance, Saul jerked his car to the roadside. I caught hold of the armrest. Even the engine’s stationary purr sounded more like a fractious growl.
Saul turned his impassive face to me. “I understand that what you’ve discovered today, combined with what you’re about to do, is extremely difficult,” he said. “You have every reason to be as angry as hell, but please don’t take your anger out on me.”
Shame hit me fast as I realized he was right. I apologized at once.
“Just remember who you’re angry with,” he concluded.
For a second time that day, his eyes stilled and that dark thing re-surfaced. Something was truly disturbing him. Not knowing what to do, I just waited. And as quickly as the puzzling incident had begun, it ended. Saul grabbed the steering wheel, and drove the Jeep back onto the road.
Soon after, we pulled up outside my parents’ house. The tree-lined street was devoid of any unwanted vehicles. “No reporters,” I said, frowning.
“Why, do you want some?” Saul had reverted to his old self again.
I felt relieved. “Course not, but I get the feeling you could arrange it.” I threw him a cheeky glance.
He threw me a knowing grin.
As I ran a studious look over my family’s humble abode, I sensed a fresh rumble of anxiety.
“Do you want to do this alone?” Saul asked.
My answer was an instant no. It signified a weakness. I knew that. But it also wasn’t the time to indulge in some petty self-analysis. Saul provided a momentary strength that I needed but severely lacked. I grabbed my bag and the first photo album.
And then we both slipped out of the car.
***
My ever-predictable brother was fumbling in the kitchen for anything edible. I called out his name and before I knew it, I was in his arms. He smelt of spices, warm and rich, so like my Nate, and his heartbeat was solid and comforting. “Damn it, Clauds,” he whispered, “been so worried. You haven’t answered any of my messages.”
“Sorry, but couldn’t bear to turn on my phone, not after the last time.” I was referring to the non-stop calls after Alice.
Nate pulled away and began scanning me. “You look like shit.”
“So you keep telling me.”
He grabbed my hands. For the first time, I noticed how abnormally grubby they were and the black, gritty dirt caking my semi-long nails. Nate flipped them over once, twice. “What have you been doing? Digging your way into a hiding spot?”
I pulled my fingers away. “Very funny.”
It was then that Nate noticed Saul standing by the kitchen’s entrance. He instantly stiffened. “Who is he?” His manner was oddly unsociable.
Saul stepped forward, introduced himself and then held out his hand. My brother narrowed his eyes, his only response.
“Please, Nate,” I said, “Saul is just trying to help. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Nate paused, then took Saul’s hand and gave it two brisk shakes. “I’m not sure how you can help, but just look after her.”
“She does a pretty good job of looking after herself.” There was something different, something undetectable in Saul’s voice as he said it.
Turning to Nate, I was aware of his curious expression. I ignored it and instead asked him where our parents were.
“Out the back. Why?”
For once, I actually felt the older sibling. “I have to talk to them about something important.” I gave Nate a small, apologetic grin. “But it’s not going to be pleasant.”
Nate glanced at Saul then back at me. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I then took my brother’s hand and walked out of the house.
My parents were lounging in their thickly padded chairs around a smoky glass table. The smell of traditional Turkish coffee was strong, wafting from two tiny, white cups. Not a single breeze relieved the hot, dank air.
Papa saw me first, slowly mouthed each syllable of my name as if it were something to savor. I then stared into the face that I had cherished for my entire existence, or at least the existence I remembered, the same face that had forever cherished me back with such love, such unequivocal support. It was difficult to imagine that he had lied to me, not just once, but possibly many times. The immense sorrow I felt almost split me in two.
This was my Papa and I, his Carino.
It’s a funny thing whenever I try to do something unpleasant, when I actually face that particular situation instead of running and hiding. Any rehearsed plan I had, automatically seems to wither amongst my fear of hurting someone, of falsely blaming them….
Of losing their love.
It was happening now. My flagging legs began to falter and I seriously questioned what I’d come to do. As if on cue, Saul’s hand pressed against the small of my back. I felt his strength shoot through me like a concrete dose of adrenalin. I soaked it up, took in a solid breath and laid the pink book, containing the first year of my life, between my parents.
I then waited.
My mother was the first to respond. Her gasp was loud, loud with terror, as were her murky, stretched out eyes.
And she hadn’t even opened the album.
My father’s reaction was the opposite. He slumped back into his chair soundless, resigned, as if he had expected it. “Where did you get this?” he murmured.
As if it mattered.
My anger awakened, reinforced by my father’s cool, hard stare and unexpectedly, gave me all the strength I needed to continue. “Look at the pictures, Papa. There are so many.” I turned a few pages and pointed to one where a jubilant Alice was encouraging me to take my first steps. “Look at this one. I look so cute, don’t you think? Your little Carino….”
I picked up the album and shoved it closer to his grim, hardened face. In one sharp movement, he turned away. “What about you, Mama,” I hissed. To her credit, she at least skimmed over several of the photos. Tears welled as she did.
“Stop it,” my father demanded with a fury I had rarely seen.
Nate grabbed the album and began sifting through it. He grimaced. “I thought all your photos were….”
“Destroyed? You and me both, brother.”
“Who is this woman with you?”
I was holding nothing back and told him.
My brother froze, instantly dropping the album as if it was somehow diseased. Perhaps it was. “Why would Alice Polinski be with you? And where are Mama and Papa?”
I turned to my parents. My mother’s behavior was all about sad, anxious eyes and trickling tears. My father’s, however, was all about cold, hard, analytical control. So opposite to how each of them would normally react.
I pushed away the peculiar incongruence, took another deep breath and said, “I want the truth, Papa….
… Today, I want the absolute truth.”
Chapter 16
Claudia
December 26, 2010
5:25 pm
MY PAPA AVOIDED me, instead looked at my mother. “Adeline,” he mouthed, stretching out his hand to her.
She tapped his hand briefly, then scraped back her chair and stood, pained and jerky-like. Her eyes were dark and cheerless; her hands trembled as they barely cupped my face. “Whatever you find out, Claudia,” she said in a soft, frail voice, “remember I love you.” She then walked away and into the house, soundless, except for the sharp, rusty squeak of the old, screen door closing behind her.
I turned to Saul. He was leaning against a nearby patio post, his arms crossed, quiet, watchful, his expression unreadable. As if just aware of his presence, my father beckoned him to sit down. Saul refused. I, on the other hand, collapsed into the nearest seat. Nate sat next to Papa.
“I presume you’re Saul Reardon,” my father said, narrowing his eyes. “Under normal circumstances, it would be a pleasure to meet you.”
“Under normal circumstances, there’d be no need for you to meet me.”
My father bobbed his head. “You are absolutely right.” But it was devoid of any respectable cordiality. “Are you looking after my daughter?”
“She’s looking after herself just fine.” I noticed it again, that slight, discernible tone in Saul’s voice. “What your daughter really needs are some honest answers.”
My father fingered through the first few pages of the album and then slammed it shut. “Alice Polinski,” he began. “What do you want to know?”
That seemed a wasted question. “Everything,” I said.
“Ah… everything. Sometimes the truth can do more harm than good.”
He was kidding, right? Two dead people and a host of family skeleton-revealing photos? And he’s talking about harm being done? “Sometimes, Papa, the truth is the only thing that’s left.”
My father glanced at the album with visible disdain. He then took a huge breath, stared at me with wide, emotionless eyes and whispered, “Alice Polinski became obsessed with you, Carino.”
And there it was, just like that.
The final acknowledgement from my Papa’s own mouth.
And at that precise moment, I realized something more. I realized that a small part of me still foolishly hoped that my suspicions about Alice were wrong, hoped that Sister Iglesias - heaven bless her - was right and all this was nothing more than my febrile imagination.
Time to grow up, Claudia.
I swallowed hard and steeled myself. “Why, Papa?”
Darkness settled upon him. His wide shoulders rounded, his head drooped and his dark, thick brows melded together, creating dim shadows over his already muddy eyes. It was as if he was aging right before me. My heart bore the customary ache it always did when I felt accountable for his anguish.
“This is difficult to talk about. It was all so long ago and we chose to forget it as best as we could.”
I said nothing and waited.
Papa flicked a saddened, sorrowful look at Nate and then he began. “There was a period of time before you were born, Carino, when your Mama and I had, well… difficulties.”
“What difficulties?”
For a small moment, Papa’s shoulders straightened. “Please, for your Mama’s sake, there are some things I will not share with you.” His voice was harsh and I recoiled. “It is enough to say that we had personal troubles.”
That was difficult to imagine. Nowadays, my parents were the epitome of married bliss, the absolute envy of our friends and family.
Papa heaved a long, heavy sigh and then continued. “The constant strain of our troubles weighed deeply upon us. When your mother became accidentally pregnant with you….”
Accidentally?
“…we did not think that she would have the strength to carry you full term.”
“But she did.”
“Not quite. You were born six weeks premature and placed in a humidicrib where you stayed for nearly two weeks. By then your mother and I were leading separate lives. She became extremely depressed; doctors called it post-natal depression, but I knew it was more than that.” Straining to maintain any solid eye contact, he looked away.
“So what happened, Papa?”
His next words were faint; I could barely hear them. “She left. She took Milo and disappeared.”
Nate was the first to react. He inhaled sharply; his eyes flew wide and unblink
ing. “I don’t believe this, Papa.”
Sadly, I could. A miserable coldness latched onto me. I was in part, thankful for it. It allowed me to carry on with some semblance of control. Nonetheless, Saul’s decision to sit next to me didn’t go unappreciated. I pressed on. “And me… she left me in the hospital?”
My father nodded.
It went a long way in explaining the often-emotionless relationship my mother and I shared. “And you, Papa, what did you do?”
He grabbed both my hands from across the table and secured them firmly in his large ones. His skin felt uncommonly cool and moist. “Please understand, Carino, that I love you more than anything imaginable. When the hospital released you, I desperately tried to care for you, but I had too many issues of my own and I couldn’t.”
“Issues? What issues?” asked Nate. His complexion had paled considerably and his forehead abnormally puckered. Papa lifted his hand, and pressed the air between them. To me, it wasn’t an unfriendly gesture. Simply a clear indication that, as before, Papa didn’t wish to talk about the more private matters. Nate glanced at me with troubled eyes. I was sure my own mirrored his.
“Trust me, Carino,” Papa went on. “At the time I really did not have the ability to care for you, not properly, not in the way you deserved.”
“Enter Alice Polinski,” I said.
“Yes, she was a friend of a friend who recommended her highly, no strings attached. Or so I had thought.” He let out a small mocking laugh before going on. “As long as I paid her well, she was content to care for you until I returned. You see, I would visit you regularly and each time I would vow that I would get better.”
Get better from what exactly?
“That I would get your mother back and then come for you.”
“And you did.”
“It took a long time but as I neared full recovery, I searched for your mother and Milo. Finding them was the easy part; convincing your mother to take me back, that was altogether different. However, in time, she did. I began to believe that good fortune was finally on my side.”