He Saved Me

by Whitney Barbetti

  Ten minutes later, we were at the front of the checkout, Julian’s arm wrapped around me. It all felt so domestic. He took the basket from my arms and started unloading the items onto the conveyer belt. I wrapped my arms around myself and looked around, taking in the store a little bit.

  I couldn’t tell you why I decided to look at the magazines on display. I never read magazines. I didn’t care about tabloid fodder. I didn’t care about the latest diet craze. But something nagged in the back of my brain so I walked the few steps back to look at the magazines.

  Most of them had some type of celebrity couple on the cover. But one stood out. Right in the center of the rack, a magazine stood out as if it was under its own spotlight. Its cover was glossy like all the others, but the word MISSING was bolded, and the caption underneath read, “What really happened?” But those words didn’t grab my attention. It was the photo on the cover of the magazine.

  The photo of me.

  I felt my eyes grow wide as I stared at it, unable to look anywhere else.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That word was on a loop in my head. My heart stuttered and I finally lifted them, looking around at all the customers around me. Luckily, it was early enough in the morning, but the customer in line behind me was also looking at the magazines.

  I had two seconds to decide what to do. And that’s how the magazine found its way on the conveyer belt, right on top of the cans of olives.

  I yanked my hair from its ponytail, pulling the strands down to shield my face. Damn it, I thought, trying on another swear word. Julian was chatting with the cashier in the way he chatted with angry strangers, charming the pants off of them. But I was shaking, my hands going from the pockets of my sweater to the pockets of my jeans and then rubbing against the other. Julian hadn’t noticed the added item to the conveyer belt yet.

  I looked around, likely suspiciously. I couldn’t help it. My heart was racing. No one seemed to be paying attention to me, which I was glad about, but Julian was practically making a new best friend with this cashier while they discussed fishing.

  Hurry up, Julian, I thought, barely resisting the urge to tap my foot impatiently.

  As soon as the cashier grabbed the magazine, Julian leaned over. He stilled. I watched his body language, enraptured. I could tell the moment the panic set in for him, because he didn’t even turn to look at me. All conversation ceased then as Julian quickly shoved the credit card he was going to use into his wallet, exchanging it for cash instead.

  I was thankful for his quick thinking, but I hung away from the register, pretending to be enthralled with the rack of postcards instead. The second I heard the cashier drop the change in Julian’s hand, I walked as quickly as I could to the exit.

  Julian caught up with me as I sped-walked to the car but he didn’t say anything, unlocking the car doors and tossing the purchases into the trunk as I climbed into the passenger seat.

  I pulled on my seatbelt, trying three times to clasp it into the buckle. Julian climbed in and started the car, buckling his seatbelt as he put the car in gear.

  Once we were on the road, I opened my mouth to say something. But what? There was nothing to say.

  “Are you going to show Six?”

  I turned my head, staring at Julian. “Yeah, because then he’ll be really stoked that we left the house.”

  Julian gave me a look. I knew it was in reference to my sarcastic tone.

  “No,” I said. “We’re not going to show him. He won’t let me leave the bedroom if he knows.” I tugged on the seatbelt, feeling the panic slide slowly from my limbs the further we were from the grocery store.

  Julian didn’t say anything, but I watched his grip tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

  CHAPTER NINE

  We didn’t speak the rest of the morning. When we’d returned from the store, Six was sitting in the living room, glued to his laptop. Mira was off the deck doing yoga.

  I put away the groceries and crawled back into bed to read the article while Julian cooked. The article highlighted ten missing cases across and held no real new information, just quotes from people I didn’t remember, people who said they’d known me. I rolled my eyes a lot at all the fake people who fake cared for me and decided to burn it in case Six ever came across it.

  I walked off the patio and watched Mira as she held a pose still for several seconds. Her back was to me as she faced the ocean with her hands above her head.

  “What do you want?” she called, unmoving.

  How the hell had she’d known I was here?

  “You’re fucking up my head,” she said as if she’d read my mind. She slowly brought her hands down and turned to face me. “You want something,” she said, nodding her head to me. “What is it?”

  “Your lighter. Can I use it?” I’d seen her flick it open and close several times as if it was a compulsion of some kind.

  “Catch,” she said, tossing the smooth gold lighter at me. I nearly dropped it after it hit me with the force that was Mira’s “toss.”

  Before she could see what I was doing, I flicked the lighter open and lit the corner of the magazine on fire and walked to the fire pit that was bordered with cinderblocks. I held the magazine in my hand until the flames became too high and then tossed it into the pit, watching the edges of the pages curl and turn black

  Mira pried the lighter from my hand. “What was that?” she asked, pointing to the pile of black papers being consumed by the fire.

  I glanced over at her. “Nothing.” I watched her expression closely as she flicked the lighter open and close. She said nothing, only eyed me with her cat-like eyes.

  “Why do you do that?” I asked, gesturing towards her hand.

  She closed it with a click and looked at the lighter.

  “Habit.”

  “It doesn’t look like it’s your style.”

  “Yeah?” Mira asked as she rubbed her thumb over its smooth surface. “Maybe because it’s not mine.”

  “Six’s?”

  Mira lifted an eyebrow as she looked at me. “Six is more of a match kind of guy. He likes disposable.”

  “Then who does it belong to?”

  “Someone.”

  She had to be the most frustrating human on the planet. “Well maybe you should return it.”

  Mira laughed, a short, cold sound. “He doesn’t remember who I am. And besides. I like it.”

  I crossed my arms as she pocketed the lighter. “Is that your mentality towards many things? If you like something, you take it?”

  Mira shrugged, unbothered by my insinuation. “Don’t you?” She stuck her hands in her pockets and faced me, her height putting her head nearly at my chin, but still intimidating nonetheless. “Do you not go after what you want?”

  I crossed my arms tighter around my body. “I don’t steal to get what I want.”

  Mira stepped backwards one step and cocked her head to the side. “Is that so?” she asked. “I guess you’re better than all of us then. Your boyfriend stole information to find you.” She looked towards the house before looking back at me. “Six stole paperwork to establish a new identity for you.” She pursed her lips as she contemplated. “Other people steal so you can get what you want.” She looked me straight. “Because that’s more honorable.” Her eyes bored into mine right before she walked away.

  I was angry. Not because she was wrong, but because she was right. She’d put me in my place.

  That was something I was learning about Mira. She might come off as a bitch. She might be sassier than I was. But she was always honest, even when you didn’t want her to be.

  Six and I sat at the dining table together as he poured over paperwork he’d strewn out across the surface. I ate the salad Julian had made us for lunch while Six scratched his head. I was reminded of what Mira had said to me.

  “Can I help?” I asked.

  Six looked briefly at me and shook his head. “No.” He picked up a paper and looked at it hard. I watch
ed him as he looked at the paper, remembering years of Six, years of him being my guardian in more ways than one. He ran a hand over the five o’clock shadow that speckled his jaw.

  “How do you feel about being a dad?” It was a question that had plagued me since I’d learned Mira was pregnant.

  Six dropped the papers he held in his hand and fell back into a chair, as if the burdens he was facing were weighing him down. I watched him scrub a hand over his face before he dropped it and stared at the ceiling. Finally, he turned his head to me. “Scared shitless.”

  I laughed. He actually looked scared, or the closest to scared that I’d ever seen him. “It’s just a baby, Six. It’s not a bomb.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Close enough.” He sat forward and pushed some of the papers away so he could rest his elbows on the solid wood table. “And besides, I’d feel more comfortable with the bomb.”

  Six didn’t tell me what he did. How he made money. It was a mystery to me. As mysterious as his nickname. But from what I had surmised, he had some kind of military background. And he did some illegal shit from time to time.

  He looked older. I wasn’t sure if it was the stress of this situation or the baby news, or if all those years of surfing under the sun were finally getting to him.

  “Isn’t Mira a little young for you?”

  “Really, Andra?” he asked, impatiently. “She’s thirty-three. She’s not a baby.”

  “You’re in your forties.” I knew I was pushing it. But I couldn’t help it. It was fun to see Six lose some of his composure.

  “I’m forty-two, Andra. Not exactly ancient.”

  “It’s eighteen years older than I am.”

  Six didn’t say anything to that, just shuffled his papers around. “Don’t you have Julian to bother or something else to do?”

  “Nope,” I said, taking a bite of my salad and crunching loudly. “Julian has book stuff he has to take care of and Mira is napping, so no training until later.”

  Six, again, said nothing.

  I chewed a few more bites while I watched him. I watched his concentration on one paper in particular and was reminded of my flashback.

  "When did you meet my mom?"

  Six looked over at me, his expression softer than before. Whenever he had spoken of her, his features settled. I knew he'd longed for her growing up. I may have been an adolescent, but I hadn't been blind to all the times his eyes had followed her around the room, his expression a mixture of love and respect.

  And seeing him with Mira now was so similar. It was almost like being back in time, watching his expression soften around her, seeing his eyes track Mira's movements. But what he had with Mira was different than what he had with my mom. It was deeper. And that made me a little sad for my mom.

  "We went to school together," he said.

  I waited with bated breath for him to continue. But some things didn't change and in this case, it was Six's reluctance to elaborate.

  "Please, don't inundate me with so much knowledge at once," I said, throwing a hand over my chest dramatically.

  "Why are you asking?" He turned his head to look at me, curiosity prevalent.

  "I was thinking about her today."

  "Don't you think about her more often than that?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

  "Well, of course I do." I picked at the salad with my fork. "But I've never asked you. I've wondered." I shrugged. I looked back up at him.

  Six's eyes returned to the paper he held in his hand. "We met in the sixth grade."

  "Is that why she called you Six?"

  "Everyone calls me Six. Your mom didn't until a few years before her death."

  "Why?"

  Six dropped the paper again and looked over at me, clearly losing patience. "What are you asking? Why everyone calls me Six or why your mom didn't for so long?"

  "Both." If I could get the answers, I might as well ask as many questions as I could before he lost complete patience with me.

  "It's the same answer to both questions."

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Why are you always so vague?” I stabbed my salad with my fork. “Is it too much to ask about my mom?”

  Six turned his chair to look at me. “You’re asking questions about me. Ask me about your mom and I’ll answer.”

  I needed to change my tactic. “What was she like when you met her?”

  Six thought for a moment. This was his style. He was always thoughtful with what he said, almost too thoughtful. “She was effervescent.” He frowned, as if he hadn’t meant to say that. “She was funny. Her smile,” he paused, rubbed his finger on the table. “Her smile split her face in half.” Six smiled, or at least the equivalent of a smile for him. “It was as if the sun shone just for her, following her around the world.” Six shook his head.

  I was stunned. Six could never be accused of being emotional, but hearing him talk about my mom was haunting. The woman I knew, I knew as her daughter. Hearing about who she was before I was even a thought in her mind was enlightening.

  And I wasn’t ready to stop asking questions.

  “Did you love her?”

  Six’s eyes lifted, coming out the trance of the memory. His face hardened. “Why are you asking that?”

  The intensity of his stare was almost intimidating. It would intimidate me more if I wasn’t used to it. “Because I saw the way you looked at her. As if she was your light.” I held my breath, watched Six digest my words.

  His eyes closed for a second. “Because she was.”

  That settled around us for a minute. It was the most Six had ever revealed to me. I let my thoughts swirl and percolate a bit.

  Six shuffled some of the papers around, the spell broken.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell her? How you felt?”

  His head whipped up and he looked at me curiously. “What makes you think I didn’t tell her? She knew.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Andra, do you think I’m the kind of guy to beat around the bush?”

  I knew he wasn’t. “Was my mom not interested?”

  Six scratched his head. “It was complicated.”

  “Did you know my dad?”

  “You’re just rolling with the questions tonight, aren’t you?” he asked. I nodded. He braced a knuckled hand on the table. “Yeah, I knew him.”

  My heart rate picked up. A hundred questions blew through my head; I didn’t know which one to ask first. “What was he like?”

  Six leaned back in his chair. “He was annoying.” He looked directly at me, as if he was trying to make a comparison. I raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t get your mom, not really.” Six cleared his throat. “She thought he hung the moon. Turns out he was just another asshole.”

  That deflated me a little bit. “What did he look like?”

  “Blonde. Uppity. His upper lip was practically permanently in a sneer. He looked like the dick he was.”

  That deflated me even further. I placed my fork carefully on the table and swallowed.

  “I’m sure he had some redeemable qualities, Andra. But make no mistake, all of you – your goodness and everything else – comes from Liddie."

  Liddie. Six was the only person who called my mother that. Then again, he was also the only one who ever came around when I was growing up, apart from my aunt. “Why do you think he didn’t stick around?”

  Six’s face took on an expression of regret. “Your mom kept you from him.”

  My ears rang. “What? Why?” I knew my voice had risen several octaves, but I was more concerned about the answer to the question.

  "All she ever told me was that your father didn't want that life, didn't want marriage or children and was more focused on his career." He leaned toward me. "She was protecting you. That's what she told me. She knew he'd hurt you."

  I looked into my salad bowl, suddenly no longer hungry. “I want to meet him.”

  “Maybe someday.” Six turned his attention back to his papers, signaling to me that he was do
ne discussing this. I knew arguing would be futile, so I left the dining room with my conflicted feelings.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mira trained with me for another few weeks before Six told me they’d planned to go to Michigan.

  “Let me come,” I pleaded.

  “No. Mira and I can handle it.” Six sipped his coffee as his eyes traveled to where Mira sat on the counter. As usual, she was swinging her legs while she chewed an apple. She was allergic to sitting still. And allergic to matching outfits, as evidenced by her black and blue flowered leggings and nautical red and white striped shirt. She wore a hundred bangles on each arm, jingling each time she lifted the apple to her lips. She was distracting, not just to look at, but to hear.

  “Mira is not what I’d call inconspicuous,” I said, looking her up and down.

  “Either is a girl whose face is all over the papers and the news.”

  I swung my head to Six. “How do you know?”

  His eyes widened. “How do I know? How do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Shit. I clamped my lips shut.

  Six uncrossed his arms from his chest and walked a step towards me. “How do you know your face is all over the news?”

  I backed up a step, ready to retreat.

  “She had a magazine,” Mira said. I looked at her, saw her trademark smirk and glared. “I watched her burn it.” I felt Six flinch and I turned back to him.

  Six closed his eyes briefly. “Can you not listen to a single thing I ask? Where did you get the magazine?”

  “The store. A week ago.”

  “Did anyone notice you?”

  I didn’t think so. But I knew it was better to have a firm response. “No.”

  “God damn it.” Six’s voice hadn’t raised in volume, but I’d heard the rumble in his voice no less.

  “I was in the store for maybe fifteen minutes. It was early, not busy.”

  Six turned away towards the sink and looked out the window. “This is great,” he said, his voice flat. “We’re about to leave and you’ve already left the house against my wishes.”

  “Six, I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself. I won’t leave while you’re gone.”