The fantasy lasts until after they have said their goodbyes, drawn out with kissing in the hallway, against the front door, and on the front step. The smile lingers as Jordan walks away in a haze of lust and love and laughter, the combination so potent Jordan is barely aware of her surroundings until a neighbour walks by with his dog and nods and smiles hello at Jordan.
The fantasy is broken. She’s an eighteen-year-old kid in the wrong neighbourhood, and the feeling of belonging is sucked out of her so fast that Jordan has to close her eyes against the pain of it. She keeps walking, ignoring the play of light and shadow through the tall trees overhead. She licks her lips, searching for a taste of Ali’s kisses, the brightness of the orange juice. But she feels nothing, and Jordan swallows and presses on until she can see the harbour and the cranes in the distance, reminding herself this is where she came from.
* * *
Jordan and Ali started their run in darkness, turning on their headlamps the moment they left the glow of the empty parking lot behind. Dawn was still at least fifteen minutes away, and they had timed this run to see the sunrise as Ali had requested. Ali had been subdued and hesitant, as if seeking permission for something she didn’t have the right to ask. Jordan couldn’t understand the hesitation, but she’d wanted very much to give her this. So she’d found a second headlamp and arranged to pick Ali up at her hotel at quarter after six.
They’d discussed the route up to Point Pleasant in the hushed tones of a Sunday morning in church. They were quiet now, just the synchronicity of breath and movement, the crunch and smesh of gravel beneath their feet, and the wind in the dark trees overhead.
They had run together often as teenagers, jostling and laughing and competitive. There had been nothing but light then, the focus of training and conditioning goals, the sweetness of attainment and success. It was the first time Jordan had ever been able to look beyond an individual goal, to lift her head and look into the future without a crushing sense of fear. It was a bubble of time, lasting only as long as she’d been at Saint Sebastian’s High School. As long as she’d been with Ali.
Jordan shook her arms out, unconsciously trying to reset her thoughts. It helped her blink back into the present and remind herself that she’d learned to lift her head up. She was done boxing shadows. The last kilometre of gravel path before the top was steeper. The gloom and grey of pre-dawn light began making shapes of the trees and rocks around them. Jordan looked up briefly, hoping they had a clear sky for Ali’s sunrise, but the old pines were unyielding in their cover, swaying their heavy branches with the breeze off the water.
Ali pulled ahead in the last turn as they entered the clearing that lead up to the Prince of Wales Tower. The old stone battery was massive and round and squat, built by the British to defend Halifax against the French in the days before colonized Canada was more than a breath of a nation. Ali slowed and finally walked and Jordan did the same, breathing as her body instantly began to cool. The stones at the base of the tower were dark and covered in the moss and lichen of the damp forest. Ali approached and ran her hand over the stone as she walked. Jordan followed, curious about what was going on in Ali’s head but content to follow her lead. Ali had been subdued since Jordan had picked her up from the airport. Something was obviously weighing on her mind.
Ali moved away from the tower toward the fenced edge of the forest. She looked back just then and Jordan could see the glint of mischief in her smile before Ali jumped over the fence.
Jordan cursed and grabbed a piece of fencing, struggling to find a foothold against the wet wood before she got over, dropping down to a narrow stretch of weeds below. The horizon was grey, the sky mostly clear of clouds as Jordan searched for Ali’s headlamp in the gloom of forest ahead.
Still muttering about safety and municipal laws, Jordan picked her way between trees and thorny bushes in the dark, keeping her headlamp trained on the lack of path ahead of her. Intent on not breaking anything, Jordan nearly tripped over Ali, who had stopped on a rocky outcrop with only a few trees and shrubs between them and a view of the distant horizon over the Atlantic Ocean.
Ali had taken off her headlamp, and Jordan quickly did the same. The breeze smelled of brine, fish, pine, and damp soil. Jordan closed her eyes briefly, waiting for the wind to shift. When it did, a second later, Jordan breathed in the scent of Ali standing so close. She had no words for it, nothing tangible she could associate with that scent, but it was Ali. Jordan knew her, a deep knowing, embedded in her memory, in her very core. Jordan shivered at the thought and opened her eyes. Ali was watching her, but Jordan couldn’t read anything in her eyes before she turned back to the horizon.
Grey dominated the sky but then orange and yellow pushed their way through in lines and streaks. The sunrise was a battle this morning. Ali seemed to be watching intently, as if waiting for a message or a sign, as the sun stubbornly struggled against an invisible force. Orange turned to pink as the sun broke the horizon, reflecting against the waves, twin balls of light that would follow each other in their daily arc over the ocean.
Jordan turned as Ali sighed. It seemed to be a sigh of loss rather than contentment, and Jordan wondered what Ali had been looking for this morning. She wasn’t sure she should ask. Not with their history or their tenuous present.
“Okay?” she said. Jordan’s voice was dampened by the forest and the moment.
Ali looked up and smiled sadly. “Yeah, I think so.”
“You were looking for something.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find it?”
Ali’s gaze went back to the water. “No.”
Jordan let the quiet envelop them again. They still had a few hours until the park was filled with joggers and cyclists and families with strollers. Jordan took the solitude for the gift it was.
“I see a lot of sunrises,” Ali said. She looked up at Jordan. “You’d think I wouldn’t with the amount I work and travel, but I make it a priority. Wherever I am, I make sure to see at least one sunrise. It…grounds me, I guess.”
Jordan nodded. She understood the importance of finding ways to stay grounded.
“You wanted something different from this one.”
Ali looked briefly disconcerted, then laughed quietly before breaking eye contact. “I guess. But I’m not sure what.”
Ali’s uncertainty contrasted with everything Jordan knew about her.
“I wanted you with me for this one,” Ali said, smiling. “So I got that from this morning.”
Jordan smiled back, the warmth of the sun and Ali’s smile heating her outside and in. As Ali turned to her and stepped closer, Jordan’s heart thudded against her ribcage. Warmth flared to heat as Ali took the last step until the distance between them was only past and present, memory and want.
“Ali.” Jordan had no other words.
Jordan held still, her mind empty of thought, and then Ali reached up and kissed Jordan so gently and softly that Jordan’s eyes fluttered closed. Jordan kissed her back with the resonance of past and the reverence of now. Longing and happiness and desire flooded Jordan’s system as Ali pulled her closer.
They surfaced from the kiss as a gust of wind brought the cry of a gull and the smell of the ocean. Jordan knew Ali had broken contact but Jordan kept her eyes closed. She was afraid. What if she opened her eyes and saw disappointment? That she wasn’t who she had been, that she wasn’t what Ali wanted now. What if she saw hope and possibility?
“Open your eyes, Jordan.”
“No.”
Jordan felt the breath of Ali’s laughter.
“Chicken shit.”
Jordan opened her eyes. Ali was smiling. Jordan so desperately wanted to echo it.
“Is this why you wanted to come here this morning?”
Ali’s smile dimmed a little and she moved away. Jordan let her go.
“Not exactly.”
It had been the wrong question, obviously. But Jordan knew she shouldn’t ask the question she wanted the answer t
o. What do you want from me?
“You’re going to tell me this isn’t a good idea,” Ali finally said, taking another step back and turning once again to the view over the water.
“It’s not,” Jordan said gently.
“Because we’re not the same as when we were eighteen? Because we’re too different? Because of that bullshit story you told me fourteen years ago about not being good enough?”
That last one was truer than Jordan wanted to admit, but she focused on the angry edge of Ali’s questions. Her anger was the heart of this.
“How long are you here for, Ali?”
“Another four or five months,” she said, her tone still angry. “You know that.”
“And after that?”
Ali’s shoulders slumped. She took a long time to answer, and the snap was gone from her voice when she did. “I don’t know.”
Jordan nodded. “I know where I’ll be. I came home to Halifax for a reason. I know where I want to be, and I’m working at getting there. With school and my career. Taking steps with my family. Being there for my kids. I’m home. And what I don’t want…I don’t want a relationship that is temporary. That’s just not how I work.”
Ali didn’t react to the last statement. She continued to stare out at the water, and eventually Jordan did the same. The sun had risen farther in the sky, enough that Jordan was beginning to sweat in her running jacket by the time Ali spoke.
“I owe you another apology.”
Jordan felt a little sick. “For the kiss?”
Ali gave her a fleeting smile. “No way. You’re a damn good kisser, McAddie.”
Jordan laughed lightly. “So are you, Clarke.”
“Now shut up and let me finish.” Ali said. Her smile faltered. “I’m a little lost. Fuck it. I’m a lot lost. I went to law school because I was angry about corporate loopholes, and I wanted to win a fight with our legal department. Who does that?” She ran a hand through her hair distractedly. “The truth is I can collect degrees, seniority, clients, and yearly bonuses all I want. Really, that’s all I’ve been doing for the last decade. And it doesn’t mean a thing. That’s what I see whenever I stop to see the sunrise. I see my own emptiness, and I hate it. It’s not a ladder I know how to climb, it’s not a battle I know how to prepare for.” She blew out a short breath. “So I came here today looking for clarity. I came here with you hoping you’d provide me with an answer. And that wasn’t fair.”
I gave you an answer, Jordan thought. I never said I don’t want you. I said I don’t want you temporarily. “Regrets?” Jordan said. She left the subject of the question open on purpose.
“No,” Ali said, almost immediately. She smiled up at Jordan, some of her power returning in that moment. “And not just because I don’t believe in them.”
They’d argued about regrets a lot in high school, as only teenagers with grand convictions can. Ali had always said regrets were limiting, likely unconsciously imitating her father, a man she’d always looked up to. Jordan had argued for regrets as a way of learning, doing better.
“You?” Ali said, bringing Jordan back. “Regrets?”
“Some,” Jordan answered. “I’m still working at learning from them.”
Silence descended again as they both seemed to silently acknowledge the day that had begun and the movement they’d taken this morning in their relationship. At once stalled and restarted. Jordan tried to find contentment in the path but found only disappointment and the residual heat from their kiss. She let a sigh escape.
“Ready to head back?” Ali said.
Jordan looked into the face of the woman she had loved more than anything. And still could not have. Then she stepped back, preparing to let her heart break and mend.
“I’m ready.”
* * *
Jordan’s days had a new rhythm as October gave way to the grey dampness of November. Work was still a flurry of meetings and phone calls, of feeling pulled in eighteen directions and constantly running to keep up. The gym was in a state of flux with new kids coming in and some regulars dropping out. This happened sometimes, especially in the winter as lack of light weighed on the minds of kids already struggling with mental health issues. Jordan arranged car pickups, bought bus passes, and extended her hours, knowing getting to the gym, working out, staying connected could maybe make a difference.
Jordan and Ali talked almost every day. These moments—a text, a coffee, leaning against the door frame of the gym and talking forever after the kids left—were the beats of the rhythm that carried a new cadence. Jordan thought about how she’d told Ali the kiss hadn’t been a good idea. But their connection was stronger every day, and seeing Ali at her gym three or four times a week only confirmed it.
Madi was the discordant note. She and Jordan had cleared the air about the fight at the gym, though Jordan never felt satisfied by Madi’s explanation that Philip was just trying to get under her skin. Madi was still hesitant and distant. She showed up every day, helped run the program, connected with the teens as she ran her circuits, but then she just left. She gravitated toward Ali, seeming more relaxed when it was just the two of them. Jordan tried not to be hurt by this. She knew the more people who surrounded Madi with stability and love, the better.
The streets had gone quiet, too. No new messages or protests had appeared, so Jordan was surprised when she was invited to the first meeting of the newly formed task force. Regional Police Headquarters was only a few blocks from Jordan’s office. In the middle of the week, Jordan put on her raincoat against the drizzle and hiked up the hill past the Citadel. She signed into the Halifax Police Regional Headquarters and was escorted to a boardroom lined with fake wood paneling and pictures of men in uniform. Rachel waved her over to an empty seat.
“Hey. Glad you could make it.”
“No problem,” Jordan said. She recognized a few officers, a harm reduction worker from a downtown clinic, and Helena Cavio. She nodded her acknowledgement to each just as Rachel’s sergeant brought the meeting to order.
“Hello, everyone, and thank you for coming. My name is Staff Sergeant Matthew Buck, and we’ve brought you all together to get some community insight and input into this situation.” Buck fiddled with a remote, and a slideshow popped up on one of the walls. “Constable Shreve put this timeline together as we’re trying to get a sense of commonalities, time frames, and locations.” He pressed the button again and read out the information, each slide accompanied by a picture.
“October fourth, graffiti on public and private property across the city and letters with the same symbol sent to the mayor and regional councilors. October ninth, the recycling bin tower in the Heights. October tenth, letter deliveries to local community agencies. October nineteenth, needles at the Ministry meeting.” Sergeant Buck paused and looked over at Jordan. “We have noted that Jordan McAddie and an acquaintance were approached the evening of October twenty-first with a warning to stay out of the way, but since we cannot definitively link it to these street protesters, we have kept it out of the timeline for now.”
Jordan nodded her acknowledgement of the statement. She and Rachel both believed the attack on the street was rooted in the group, but she understood the need to move forward on facts, not instinct.
“We’re still looking into it,” Rachel whispered as Buck continued. “But you should know that extra patrols around your neighbourhood have been stopped.”
“It’s okay, Rach,” Jordan whispered back.
“We’ve got a new development to add to the timeline,” Buck said, drawing Jordan’s attention back. “Since it involves social media and we can’t keep it under wraps, we’ll be making a statement later today.” He clicked to the next slide. It looked like a screenshot of an email. “What you’re seeing here is an email from [email protected] to Interior Heights, a successful online and traditional print magazine on interior decorating.” Buck raised his hand as laughter broke out in the room. “I know, but stay with me for a second. Interior Heights is r
unning a contest to find Canada’s Ugliest Bedroom. Prize is a complete makeover. Unharm, as this group seems to be calling itself, has apparently entered the streets of Halifax as a contender.”
Jordan could feel discomfort replacing laughter in the room. She could feel it in herself, in her bones. There was a history of hurt here. Jordan also had to sit with the discomfort of knowing this group was right. She couldn’t agree with their methods, but what did it say about her that she agreed with their message?
Without thinking, Jordan sought out the one person in the room she knew would understand. Helena was already looking at Jordan with an expression of sympathy and connection.
“We’re following up with this email address, obviously,” Buck continued. “You’ll note the capital letters H, R, and M.”
“Halifax Regional Municipality,” one of the officers added. It was a common enough term to comprise Halifax and Dartmouth across the bridge.
“Right,” Buck acknowledged. “We haven’t heard of any other cities dealing with this same issue, but this confirms that this group is unique to our fair city.”
“Lucky us,” the same officer muttered.
“Moving on,” Buck said pointedly. “Interior Heights contacted us two days ago when the email came through. They are complying with our requests not to respond and to forward any more correspondence to us. Since Interior Heights is a Toronto-based company, our counterparts at the RCMP have now become involved as well. The investigation is ongoing.”
“Staff Sergeant Buck, what is it that you’re looking for from us?” Helena said. “I’d like to offer what I can, but I’m not entirely sure what the goal is here.”
The other community members of the task force looked interested as well.
“Thank you for the question, Ms. Cavio. As officers, our main priority is to maintain peace. We need to find out who is behind this, what their motivation is, and try to predict and prevent any escalation in unwanted and destructive behaviour.” The sergeant paused to look around the room. Everyone was quiet. “So, we’ve established what we know, now we have to find out what we don’t know and what we need to know. That’s where you all come in.”
Shadowboxer Page 13