The Missing Link

by Erica Pensini

  Now I am the one who smiles and shivers.

  “Will you let us in at some point?”, I say

  Lee giggles and opens the door.

  I smell patchouli and coffee, and I catch a glimpse of the living room, of a red couch with white and orange pillows thrown on it.

  I like the choice of colors.

  I walk in and see that behind the couch there’s a painting that matches its flavor. It’s strangely familiar, as if I had painted it at some point in the past. It’s a simple painting, with no subject in it, just colors: red and yellow. There’s red on top and yellow on the bottom, with small blots of yellow in the red and small blots of red in the yellow.

  I stare at it so intensely that I don’t notice that Lee is standing at my back.

  “She painted it”, he says and I start, realizing his presence

  “I could have painted this, you know?”, I tell him

  “You paint?”, he asks

  “Only at my friend’s place. I can’t do it in my goddamn house”

  “Why?”, Lee asks

  “It’s too perfect. You know what I mean?”, I say, without taking my eyes of the painting

  Then I turn around

  “You know what I mean?”, I repeat, “Everything looks perfect there. You can’t move a single comma without the feeling that the walls will tell you to place it back where it was. I suppose that that’s a way to keep an appearance of sanity when there’s so much crap hidden in your closets”

  “You mean your presence in the house?”

  “For instance”

  There’s a pause during which Lee and I simply look at each other without speaking. It feels good this way.

  “Does it unsettle you to know there’s someone so similar to you?”, he asks after a moment

  The question hadn’t occurred to me before. Does it?

  “I don’t know…it’s just weird. But deep down I have always known…I just wonder about my parents. Who are they? Did they give up on us? Are they still looking for us?”, I say, almost talking to myself

  “Do you want to see Veronica? I only have one picture…I never thought…”, he starts

  “Show me”, I say

  Then I add, “Please…”

  My heart is pounding.

  Lee walks to his bedroom and I follow.

  In the dim light of the room, over the red sheets of the undone bed, a face that could be my own is squeezed against Lee’s cheek, amplified in a 6 ftx3 ft black and white photograph.

  Veronica.

  My eyes locked into my twin’s eyes, I smile at Veronica’s smile, her happiness is mine.

  Then Lee says, “I wish she were here”, and the spell breaks.

  My smile melts away into tears, breaks into sobs that shatter my body. I’ve never felt so lonely.

  Lee comes closer and he hugs me. He holds me tight, and cries with me. His tears wet my shirt and mine his, they glue our faces together.

  Then through my tears I see Veronica’s face glued onto Lee’s. I see their smile.

  I pull back just enough to look Lee straight in the eyes and say, “It’s good to be here”

  “Jeez…”, he says, his voice choked

  We’re silent for a moment.

  “You know”, he tells me, “now that you’re here I know I’ll find her”

  “I never thought I could…”, I start saying and the phone rings on his bed table

  A strange expression crosses Lee’s face as he’s about to pick up the phone

  “Yes?”, he says

  Nothing on the other end

  “Hello?”, he asks again

  Someone finally

  “Veronica…”, he whispers

  Chapter 12

  “Where are you?”, Lee asks but before Veronica can answer something happens. Something loud, so loud that even I can hear it through the receiver.

  “Veronica!”, Lee yells into the phone, his voice rushed and panicked

  There’s a loud thump on the back, and some voices. I can’t understand what they are saying, the language is foreign and the voices aggressive.

  And then there’s just the regular blipping of the cut line, its sound so piercing I have to cover my ears.

  I shiver, the summer’s hot but I feel cold from the inside, the lump in my throat is so tight it hurts. I can’t cry and I can’t speak, and I stare at Lee who stares at the wall, holding the phone in his hand with a dumbstruck expression.

  I can’t measure the time, but at some point I pull myself together.

  “Did you see the number she was calling from?”, I ask

  “No…”, Lee tells me as he punches some buttons on the phone

  “Wait, yes…but where is this number from?”, he says showing me the display

  “Can we google it up?”, I say

  The computer is right next to phone, and Lee presses the on button. The PC seems to take forever to start, Lee nibbles at his lips anxiously.

  “Come on buddy!”, he says thumping his fingers on the table, exasperated

  Thoughts race in my head. Find where she was calling from. Find out and…

  Find out and reach her.

  The question is how. What were they doing to her when the line fell? She can’t be dead, not now. No, not now. But if someone took her, kidnapped her again, how do I find her?

  “Ah finally!”, Lee exclaims when he manages to open the search engine

  He types in the number.

  “Bingo!”, he says, “Amsterdam?”, I say

  “Seems like that’s it”, he says, his voice regaining life

  “I need to buy a ticket”, I realize at the same time I’m telling Lee

  He looks at me for a moment and I see what he’s thinking.

  “Let me go first, you can’t come with me now”, I tell him, and I don’t know why I say so

  But why is what he asks.

  “Because you can’t afford hanging out there without an income”, I say, not really knowing if this is the real reason

  “Can you?”, he asks

  As a student I received funding that is still there for the most part because I never had to pay for my living. My adoptive parents have been generous with me, I give them that. They’ve loved me only for themselves, I know, but still.

  “Yes”, I say

  I have enough to survive for a while, certainly till the start of the job in Barcelona. Will I ever even get to Barcelona though? I have no clue about where this lead will bring me.

  Lee frowns, he’s thinking, planning.

  “I need to do this alone, you understand?”, I continue

  “I do. But we need to Veronica alive”, Lee insists

  “Yes, but if we go there together and they get us both then we blow up our chances. Let me go there first. I promise I’ll reach out for help if I need it, and if I stop contacting you all of a sudden then you’ll know I’m in trouble”, I tell him

  Lee thinks this over for a moment.

  “Ok”, he agrees at last

  I smile, trying to look as if everything were under control, as if I weren’t the mess it is.

  “So we’re buying your ticket?”, Lee asks, bringing me back on track

  “Right”, I say, pulling out my credit card

  “When do you want to leave?”, he asks

  “Tomorrow?”, I say, echoing back his question

  “Tomorrow?”, he repeats, eyebrows arched

  “I suppose so”

  Lee doesn’t look too convinced.

  “We don’t have time”, I insist

  “It’s about you going there alone…”, he starts

  Patience is not one of my key qualities, and being exhausted doesn’t make things any better. I take the mouse off his hand and start browsing.

  Deciding you want to fly out somewhere the evening before you’re on the plane generally won’t buy you a cheap seat, and when I enter my credit card info and accept the purchase I figure I have eaten away a good slice of my savings in n
o more than 5 minutes.

  Lee hasn’t spoken a word since I grabbed the mouse off his hand. It is only when I complete the purchase and lean against the wall, exhausted, that he tells me, “If you take off at 3 pm tomorrow I can give you a ride to the airport around noon”.

  I have a night and a morning to pack up my life and go.

  Chapter 13

  Packing didn’t take me long, it never does, but still I had no sleep. I spent the night talking with Joshua and by the time I hit the bed it was dawn.

  I don’t know if I will see my adoptive parents again, or if I will take any of their calls, reply to any of their emails. I need time to understand, and I left behind a note saying so.

  It’s time for me to understand what you never told me – Iris

  I told Joshua I’ll be fine, but now that I am alone on this plane I know the lie is bigger than I thought it would be when I said it. I’m leaving all I have behind to look for a sister who might be dead. Who might be somewhere where I’ll never find her. I have objective reasons to feel lonely, and being as physically drained as I am just makes the emotional chaos worse.

  Sleep, Iris, sleep. My eyes closed, I try to sleep.

  But I can’t, because I have the feeling that a guy is observing me. I noticed him when I was lining up at the gate, his eyes somehow constantly brushing on me. His gaze was not blunt enough for me to stand up and say, “hey stop it”, it was rather the more subtle sideways type of gaze you can’t argue against. This man is the type you hope won’t be sitting close to you, because if he does you’ll never be able to push him away. At first it seems like our seats are not close, but then he somehow manages to find his way to a spot not too far from where I’m sitting. I wonder what he told the hostess to convince her to let him take a seat so bloody close to me.

  As I sit with my eyes closed, I can’t see the guy’s eyes but I bet they’re still slyly landscaping me. Perhaps I’m being paranoid.

  I sense that exhaustion is taking over…

  “I thought you wouldn’t come anymore”, says Stephanie

  “How late am I?”

  “About a month, but don’t worry, we all know that last minutes accidents happen”, she says and laughs

  “I can’t believe the flight took so long. I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t mention it. Tell me about your dreams, rather”, she tells me, he voice strangely soft

  “I didn’t sleep, sorry”, I say, realizing that I am apologizing at every sentence

  “You’re sleeping now”

  I don’t understand

  “Who are you seeing?”, she asks

  “You…”

  “And whom else?”

  Somebody bumps against my arm and I open my eyes. The joys of having an aisle seat. I hear myself moan and I raise my eyes to figure out who just woke me up.

  And there he is.

  This time there’s no doubt, the guy’s looking at me with meaning, straight in the eyes.

  He slips his hand in the back pocket of his kakis pants and grabs a small something, seamlessly. I feel the goosebumps on my back, but all he is holding is a folded piece of paper. He drops it on my lap, casually, and walks away.

  What is this?

  I am tempted to brush it off my lap, just as casually as he dropped it there, and pretend nothing ever happened. But then I unfold the note. The writing is all pointy and slanted. A nervous, hasty print, written in fine black ink.

  REALITY CAN EXCEED YOUR DREAMS. WATCH OUT FOR EVERYTHING AND EXCLUDE NOTHING. THEY’LL BE WATCHING YOU. DON’T TRY TO LOOK FOR ME – FOR YOUR OWN SAKE AND MINE.

  When I take my eyes off the note the guy is gone from the seat where he was, and the hallway is empty.

  Chapter 14

  I slept a dreamless sleep in the cheapest hostel room I managed to find in Amsterdam. I was too exhausted to be scared or to realize that I hadn’t eaten for over 12 hours, all I knew was that I needed to collapse on a bed.

  But now it’s all coming back to me: the man on the plane, the note. And I am hungry, so hungry my head spins when I stand. I slip back into my jeans and feel my pockets. The note is still there. Something tells me it would be safer to destroy it than to keep it, but I can’t get myself to tear it apart because I wonder if it contains hints, leads that would be forever lost if I did.

  I tuck the note into my luggage anyways and head out, heavily leaning onto the handrail as I teeter down the stairs. The girl at the front-desk sees me and smiles casually, casting an appearance of normality to the oddness of the scene. I stare back at her blankly for few instants before pulling together some sort of crooked smile.

  There’s a mirthful café right across the street, with flowers on the windows and on the tables outside, and that’s where I stop. I am in dire need for food, but in my current state of mind the colored flowers are almost as important as filling up my stomach. I have to keep the morale high, I can’t afford letting slip even for an instant without running the risk of breaking down completely.

  I order a cappuccino and pastry with sophisticated names I can hardly pronounce. Sitting outside in the warm air filled with the smells of food and flowers, surrounded by the laughers and voices of people, one bite of almond pastry after the next I feel the hope flicker within me. I look at the street and smile, imagining the day I will sit here just like everyone else would, at peace with myself. Will this be possible, ever?

  I don’t know, but I will try. I will be fine, one way or the other.

  “Hey, I can’t believe we’re meeting here!”, I hear behind my back

  I feel a pinch of irritation, sudden and acute, and when I turn around it must show on my face.

  “Did I startle you?”, asks the blond who seems so enthusiastic about meeting me

  I have a vague recollection of her face, but I cannot really place it anywhere. When people don’t strike me in any particular way I blank them out within minutes. This must show on my face too, because the blond tells me, “You remember me from school, don’t you?”

  Yes, now I do. We took courses together, me and this blond whose name I’ve forgotten, and she has always been like that with me, always so eager to interact. How comes she’s here?

  “Sure I do”, I say, doing my best to be civil

  “Can I join you?”, she asks, and starts pulling up a chair for herself before I get the chance to reply

  She talks for a while, about places to see and about her plans here in Amsterdam and about school. A bunch of words I don’t really listen to, but to which I nod every now and then while wondering how I can get rid of the woman.

  “You know I forgot your name, though?”, she says at a point, and so I tell her

  “Mine is Melissa…just in case”, she says and winks

  I smile and nod. When is she going to leave?

  “What are you up to today?”, she asks, and then, without pausing, “A friend of mine has been here before and she told me about this place, the drinks they make and their beer are awesome. I think we must try it out”

  “Well…”, I start

  “Do you have plans already?”, she interrupts

  “Sort of”, I say

  “The place is not far from here, you know”, she insists and starts describing all the wonderful things she’s been told about it. After chatting away for a while she tells me the name of the pub.

  And the pub is the one I should go to, the one from where Veronica called.

  “’The black Lion, you said?”, I ask

  “Yes! Do you know about it?”, she wants to know, her excitement bubbling out, unstoppable

  “Never heard about it, I just find the name curious”, I say

  “Are you in then?”, Melissa insists

  If I go there with someone like Melissa my reasons for being there are going to be less obvious, she’ll be a good element of distraction because she just doesn’t seem to know how to shut up. Finding this chatter-box here in Amsterdam might have not been bad luck after all. I’ll have to
get rid of her at some point, but I’ll deal with that later.

  “Ok”, I tell her, shrugging

  Chapter 15

  As we walk the streets I start feeling grateful to Melissa for her presence. She has a map and she does all the work to figure out where to go. The enthusiasm she gives out gives me the illusion I am here for fun, as if I were nothing but a tourist with a home somewhere else and a normal life.

  After about an hour we reach the pub. The three storey building which hosts it is old and it slopes a bit towards the right, the windows on the upper floors are crowded with flowers and statuettes and vases, all very exotic.

  The pub itself is one of a kind. It’s dark inside, and it is only after a few minutes that my eyes adjust to the dim light and I get a taste for the pub’s atmosphere. The place is an improbable pastiche of styles, with stools from the 50’s, liberty style faint lights, flags of hokey and football teams draped all over the ceiling.

  “Groovy!”, Melissa exclaims

  Even in my current state of mind I appreciate the craziness of this half organized chaos. What was my sister doing here? Was this a place she simply liked and from where she decided to place the phone call, or is there something behind the scenes?

  Suddenly I decide I want to check out the bathroom. I ask Melissa to order a coke for me as I start to get up.

  “A coke?”, she echoes back surprised

  “Thank you”, I reply, and disappear to where the arrow with the TOILET sign is pointing before she can raise further objections.

  The narrow hallway that leads to the bathroom reveals nothing in particular, and the bathroom itself is nothing but a tiny well-kept bathroom with no useful clues. What did I expect anyways?

  And yet I can’t give up.

  I look around for a while longer and then flush the toilet for the sake of the show. Am I being tracked down just now?

  Perhaps even Melissa is there for a reason, perhaps she is not who she says she is. This thought seems a bit far-fetched, but at this point nothing is making full sense anyways.

  When I walk back Melissa is sitting at the bar, talking to a guy. She introduces him to me, before shifting her interest back to him and cutting me off the scene. I sit with my coke, landscaping the place, while the two of them chat and flirt. The temptation to ask the barista if she has ever seen a girl who looks like me is strong, but it doesn’t seem wise to make myself noticeable. Not that I am not, someone who knows my sister will take no time at all to recognize me.

  And after a few moments I start to suspect the barista does.

  Her side glances are not conspicuous, and yet something tells me she is not unaware of my identity. I take a peak, she takes a peak, and we continue for a while till I get fed up with the game.