Lost Hours

by Lorena Franco

  “She´s beautiful” I whisper.

  Her hair is black, like her mother´s, held in two braids. Her big, bright blue eyes which remind me of my mother. A multitude of tiny freckles pepper her tiny nose. Her well-formed lips smile at the camera, proudly showing off two missing teeth.

  “So. Do you want to meet her?” Samantha asks, uncertain.

  “Of course, Samantha! We have said awful things to each other, screamed and even been disrespectful, but she is my daughter. God damn it! You should have told me. Why have you kept this secret from me for five years?”

  “I didn´t want you to fill pinned down.” She answers, looking me straight in the eye.

  For some strange reason, just then, I could have kissed her. I would have gone to the end of the world with her if necessary. With her and our daughter.

  A part of me wants to settle down, drop the drugs and stop screwing around with Charlotte, screwing around with other women. I want to forget Paula and her persistent hounding, her calls in the middle of the night, her obsession with me, always telling me she can´t live without me.

  “She likes to go to the park a lot. I think it would be a good place; and if you bring her an ice cream cone, you will make her the happiest child in the world.

  Samantha´s face literally lights up when she talks about her daughter. She loves her as much as I´m sure I will.

  “Of course, I want this done discretely, Josh. I don´t want people to know we have a daughter. I don´t want people to know that you and I…”

  “We had some good times, Samantha.” I interrupt thoughtfully. “I really want to meet Meredith.”

  I go back to my office, impatient for the moment I can finally take that ice cream to her. To meet her.

  Meredith is a fount of endless energy, but what really makes me happy, is to be able to see her smile in person. She greets me as if she´d known me all her life, thanks me when I give her the strawberry ice cream cone. I love it when she smiles and pretty dimples show up on her rosy cheeks.

  Samantha seems to be quite calm. She never takes her eyes off me. I can still see the love she had for me in that look. I was an idiot to let her go. Samantha is much more than I deserve, a woman of a well-to-do family, never lacking a thing since she was a child. I am moved to tears looking at the way she looks at her daughter, with all the love in the world. I like the way she caresses her hair, how she smiles at her and the way she talks to her; always calm, though Meredith pays no attention to her and rushes to get on the most dangerous slides, meant only for seven-year old’s and above.

  “So, then, are you my daddy?” Meredith asks staring at me fixedly.

  “Yes, that´s right,” I answer smiling, “I´m your dad, and I´d like to bring you to the park, or even…” I look at Samantha who nods, smiling. “read you a bedtime story.”

  “I love stories!”

  “Which is your favorite?”

  “Peter Pan.”

  “Why is that?” I ask, somewhat surprised.

  “Because it has Tinker Bell in it, and some very pretty mermaids too.”

  “Do you like the mermaids?”

  “A whole lot!” She exclaims as she enjoys her ice cream.

  Samantha and I sit on a park bench to watch her play with other children. She is very extroverted, talks to everyone and she loves danger as much as I did. She reminds me of myself as a child, always climbing the most dangerous trees and getting on slides forbidden to my age.

  “Would you like to have dinner with us?” Suggests Samantha.

  “Of course. And I´d like to read Peter Pan to her when she goes to bed.”

  Samantha nods, pleased. The nervousness and acute bad mood that have plagued her for months, disappear. She takes my hand and caresses it almost mechanically, not looking at me.

  I tell Charlotte I have some backed-up work and need to go back to the office. That I will be late. That she can go to my apartment and I will arrive at dawn.

  As I sit in the kitchen table with Samantha and Meredith, laughing at the girl as she sets aside each one of her peas, I feel like staying there forever. With them. A quiet family life, filled with love, like the one I had with my parents so long ago.

  At seven, it´s bedtime and Samantha shoos Meredith to her room. She comes out of her bedroom wearing cute pajamas featuring Tinker Bell, and rushes to bathroom to brush her teeth.

  “Are you going to read me a story?” she asks sweetly when I tuck her in.

  “Of course, Meredith. Peter Pan OK?

  She nods happily and I read the book about the boy who didn´t want to grow up, from cover to cover. Slowly her big, amazing blue eyes begin to close. But before falling asleep, I am thrilled by her little slurry voice saying: «Good night, daddy».

  I close the book, kiss her forehead and caress her cheek. I watch her for a couple of seconds, and realize that my heart is lost to that child forever. I turn out the lamp on her night table and quietly slip out of the child´s room. Samantha is waiting for me outside, in the hallway, and without saying a word, we kiss and walk over to her bedroom.

  PAULA

  Tuesday, October 15, 2013

  Paul fucks me. Time and time again, his desire for my body is greater by far than Josh or Matthew´s. His phone hasn´t stopped ringing, interrupting our wild cavorting. I wonder where this is all going to lead in the future. When he finally comes, his body glistering with sweat and panting, his perspiration dripping on my body, he stares at his cellphone that is ringing once again, naggingly.

  “I should get that.” he finally says.

  All I can do is nod. Through half closed eyes, I can see the light that filters through blinds, gifting us with a play of shadows that highlight Paul´s body.

  “Tischmann.” He speaks laconically into the phone. His face breaks into a sudden smile, only to get serious the next instant. “What´s that you say?” he asks, looking at me. “But John…”

  I lose interest, though I can feel Paul´s intense gaze on me. He seems confused, disconcerted. His laconic answers restricted to yes, no, and short words.

  I become interested in the conversation when he gets up and locks himself in the bathroom, continuing to speak in low tones, almost whispering. I get a bad feeling, so I get dressed quickly and leave the apartment. Has Matthew been caught? Damn it all! Is that it? Did they find him? Am I going to be charged as an accomplice because I knew and kept quiet?

  As I step onto the asphalt of the city street, I feel like it’s going to suck me down and I will fall into a bottomless pit. My head is about to burst.

  I walk quickly, nervously, without a fixed destination. Suddenly, a couple of guys with shaved heads and uncountable tattoos, jump out of a dark alley and stop me.

  “Well, looky, looky. It seems we´re gonna have some fine entertainment tonight!” exclaims the taller one, cornering me.

  “Great entertainment.” Says the other, whistling. He approaches and squeezes my thigh painfully with his dirty hands.

  I look around me. There´s no one around. It´s the early hours in the morning. I was so stupid to walk myself into this mess.

  I see a sharp object on top of what looks like an enormous beer barrel. That might help to scare them away. I pull back and grab it, pointing it in front of me. They laugh at me. But before I am raped, tortured or killed, I am determined to defend myself. They keep saying things. I have stopped listening. They are very close and begin to whimper and fondle me. I can feel their stinky breath on the back of my head.

  I remember Josh. I can picture clearly how I slit his throat. A furious growl escapes my throat, and with unsuspected violence y lash out, cutting both their necks before they know what´s hit them. They both look at me, not believing what just happened. Just like Josh did before he bled out. The thugs slide to the floor, unable to utter even a whisper through their severed chords.

  “That´s what you get for messing with a lunatic.”

  I wipe my prints. I know how to do that well. I have done it before. The
tattooed freaks lie dead at the mouth of the alley, a huge pool of blood stains the pavement. With a grimace of distaste, I drop the weapon close to them, free of any incriminating fingerprints. «It was self-defense», I would plead on this occasion, if something went wrong. But to tell the truth, this is just what I needed; a little action.

  My body gradually loosens-up, my mind is once again clear, blaming myself for a life plagued with secrets and lies. Now, as I am finally able to recall the truth, I am left without options. I wander the dark streets of New York, aimlessly, until I reach the place where it all started.

  CHAPTER 11

  JOSH PARKER

  September of 2004

  I´m happier than I´ve ever been. Meredith calls me daddy as if she´d done it for forever. I take her to the park, have dinner with her; I´ve even gotten her to eat all the peas in her plate and I read Peter Pan for her every night, until she falls asleep. That done, I go to Samantha´s room and make love to her every night.

  I´ve stopped doing drugs and broke up with Charlotte. It was very different from the break-up with Paula. Charlotte wished me the best, while Paula laughed and got that crazy look in her eyes that always scared me. I´m even afraid of firing her, though it wouldn´t be fair as she is a good assistant and has a great creative mind. Rule number one: personal issues should not rule in the workplace. Rule number two, which I broke years ago: don´t get involved with the boss or coworkers.

  Looking back, I remember a happy childhood, until the day when my father died because he decided to drive after drinking heavily. The accident involved another car in which the couple were instantly killed. The only thing left to me, was my mother; she got sick and died shortly after. She lost her mind. She began to hear voices and believed the neighbors wanted to kill her. She´d hide behind trees because she was sure the FBI was after her, to torture her in order to get confidential information about the extraterrestrials who came to visit her each night.

  When the situation got too hard to bear, she ended up committed to a mental institution on Riverside Drive. Eventually, she took her own life when I was sixteen.

  I ended up living with my elderly aunt and uncle until I was ready to go to college. From then on, I made a life for myself. I worked very hard, I studied ´till late every night, and never got into any kind of trouble.

  And, as they say, the rest is history, but I´m sure that in some corner of her deranged mind, my mother would be proud of the man I have become. Not the Josh that has taken hundreds of women to bed or consumed large quantities of drugs, using excess work and stress as an excuse, but rather the Josh who dotes on his five-year-old little girl he has just discovered. The Josh that has decided to settle down with the woman he never should have left.

  Samantha and I are very discreet with our relationship, as we were five years ago. Then, everything was passion, all sex and desire. Now, there is more, probably due to Meredith who looks at us excitedly, as if we were two Hollywood stars. She is anxious to start school, telling us she´s so happy that her daddy will pick her up at the end of the day. She dreams of the day when she it will be her turn to stand at the front of her classroom, and tell all her classmates about what her father does and where he works. Something she hadn´t been able to do the previous year.

  On the third of September, a Saturday in which Samantha and I decided have a day to ourselves, our life took an unexpected turn.

  We left Meredith with her babysitter, regardless of her tantrum because she wanted to go with us. Oh God! She was so upset, I had never seen her frown so deeply or for so long.

  “You´ll have a great time with Kim.” I tell her smiling.

  “But I want to be with you, daddy!”

  I smile at her and caress her messy black mane, and leave the house with Samantha.

  Hours later, as Samantha and I are having dessert at Daniel, a French gourmet restaurant, we get a call from a panicked Kim, giving us the news that all parents dread.

  “But… What? How? How did it happen, Kim?” Samantha asks, exasperated. I´m still unaware of what´s going on.

  Those were the worst hours of my life. Someone had kidnapped Meredith, my little girl… my girl with the huge blue eyes, stubborn and beaming. I can only think about the moment she insisted on coming with us, when she said goodbye, upset because selfishly, mom and dad wanted a day alone with each other.

  “My God. If anything happens to her, I… I will die.” Samantha repeats over and over, drowning in her tears.

  It´s Sunday. Twenty-four hours have gone by since someone took Meredith as she played in the park. Kim told us that everything happened very quickly; she took her eyes off the child for only a second, while she made sure she had their lunch. When she looked up again, the child was not on the swing. She had disappeared.

  The detective in charge of the case, a guy called John Peck, doesn´t seem to be very optimistic about the whole thing, but he tries to keep our spirits up. He seems to be an old-school guy, he knows what he´s doing.

  “My assistant is on vacation; he would tell you that you have to try to keep calm. Not lose hope.” He says dejected, concerned.

  “Please find her,” I tell him desperately, “she´s the thing I love most in the world.”

  The inspector nods, evidently disturbed by my tears.

  “Do you have children?” I ask.

  “No. But I understand how you feel.”

  “The hell you do. You don´t understand shit.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel ashamed at my outburst, when I see his dejected look. He nods. He understands that I´m desperate and filled with bottled-up rage. He gets out of my face for a while, but not for long.

  On Monday, September 5, Detective Peck shows up at our door at ten o´clock in the morning to burden us with the worst news possible.

  I can feel the grief and impotence as I stare into the inspector´s eyes. His words come out mechanically, dull and weighing on him and us, stabbing at our hearts. It´s easy to tell it´s one of the hardest moments in his career, though he´s had to give families bad news countless times before. Extinguishing the last glimmer of hope.

  Meredith has been found in an alley, close to our apartment. Dead. My little girl has been murdered. Samantha faints, unable to cope with the pain. I hold her in my arms and scream. I scream desperately, frantically.

  It takes a heavy dose of pills before we can go to the forensic lab where little Meredith´s body lies. She didn´t suffer any violence, he body doesn´t show any bruises or cuts. It was a heavy dose of pills that killed our sweet baby: as with Peter Pan, she will hide forever in Neverland. Never turning into the amazing adult woman she might have been, a woman I would have loved to guide and gotten to know.

  PAUL

  Friday, October 18, 2013

  “Old Peck!” I greet the elderly man, giving him a bear hug and picking up his bags at the airport. “You didn´t have to come. It´s a long trip.”

  In the last three year since I saw him last, after he retired, his face has changed. His visage is less somber and strict, it has softened somewhat. There is little left of the great Detective Peck who worked so hard for the police department for over forty years. His wrinkles are deeper showing the weight of a tough life. His small brown eyes, full of wisdom, fit well with a man who can´t easily be surprised by human degradation, having witnessed numerous atrocities.

  I haven´t heard from Paula since Tuesday. Her whereabouts are unknown, and we have been working hard to locate her and arrest her discreetly. We don´t want her to get scared. When we finally detain her, she will have a lot to answer for.

  She blinded me with her beauty and passion. A part of me felt sorry for her without knowing why. My personal situation with Ana, has made me vulnerable, and I was desperate to recover my masculinity, my pride between a woman´s legs.

  “Coffee, Tischmann; urgent, and with plenty of sugar.” Orders Peck with a good-natured smile.

  I nod in acquiescence and I drive us downtown.
It´s about elven o´clock when we enter a small, empty, coffee shop and order our coffee.

  “Melinda doesn´t let you take sugar, does she?” I laugh.

  “Where´s Paula?” He asks, ignoring my quip. ”It´s important that you find her, Tischmann. As I told you on the phone, she´s dangerous. God! How could I have missed it? Why couldn´t I remember? How could I forget Parker´s face?” He holds his head in his hands and chuckles to himself. “This head of mine, Tischmann… It´s deteriorating faster than I like. Alzheimer, they call it. It really sucks to get old.”

  “The other night, when we talked on the phone…” I hesitate for a second, “I was with Paula.” I accept, ashamed.

  “She trapped you. Don´t whip yourself over it, Tischmann. You didn´t know anything, and she´s a professional manipulator. I have gone over the case in Malibu, and it all makes sense. The accident that killed Paula´s parents, was caused by Josh Parker´s dad, who was drunk that night. Paula was twelve when she was admitted to a mental institution. I met her when I was investigating the alleged suicide of one of the inmates; I was surprised at how interested she was in the whole investigation. From then on, I visited her frequently and though I eventually concluded that the death of her fellow inmate was no suicide but a murder, I kept quiet. I protected her.”

  “You think she murdered the other girl?”

  “For sure. Paula was terrifically strong, unbelievable in such a frail body. I grew fond of her. She was always sweet with me, she helped me get over the frustration of my inability to give Melinda a child. I guess that´s what led me to hide that crime and the one with a watchman…”

  “A watchman?”

  “He fell down some stairs, but the fracture in his skull revealed that had been dealt a severe blow to the head before he fell. Paula was seventeen then. A year later she left the institution that had become hell to her.”

  “Peck, I can´t believe you concealed those crimes.” I tell him reproachfully.

  “She manipulated me the same way she did with you. I was going through the worst years of my personal life. For you, it was Ana´s infidelity. For me, it was the inability to engender a child. Then I lost track of her, but now it all makes sense.