Incomplete

by Eliza Park

  Only after I’d stepped out, dried off, and thrown on another new uniform did I decide to face the cabinet again, closing my eyes and choosing the first two bottles my hands touched, shrugging as I popped one of each into my mouth and swallowed them.

  I knew I felt okay this morning because Maverick had once again attempted to save me last night. I should thank him, but I was too angry that I hadn’t fully gone through withdrawal yet. I wanted that. I wanted to know what it felt like on the other side, but every time I made that decision, I felt paralyzed with fear and desperate to make the shakes and headaches disappear. I never made it through more than 24 hours.

  I went and sat at my desk, closing Mav’s laptop, and moving it out of the way so I could work on my own homework, something I was going to need to do more often. I hadn’t applied to any universities yet, and I knew I was way behind on that front. I pulled out my books and notebook but looking at them suddenly made me feel extra tired. Like the world was pulling me down into the ground by the shoulders, begging to take me into the hardwood and leave me there.

  I left my books on the desk and found my way into the bed, my head hitting the pillow next to Maverick’s as I drifted back off to sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Maverick

  Celeste was passed out when I woke up, her fully clothed back pressed into the front of mine, thick hair still damp in places. My arm was draped casually over her narrow waist and I inhaled the scent of her lavender shampoo with every breath. I knew it was late and assumed we had about 30 minutes to get ready for class. Just enough time to shower, gather all my shit, and sprint across the snow covered green. I certainly didn’t have time for the way I wanted to wake Celeste up. She needed more recovery time, anyhow, but the temptation of having her body pressed fully against mine was maddening to my teenage manhood.

  Another time. In another place. Maybe when we were older.

  I kissed her gently on the shoulder, rubbing her arm up and down over the fabric of her sweater. She stirred after a few moments and groaned, pulling the heavy comforter over her head. I pushed the blanket off of my own body and rolled over her, hopping onto the floor and walking over to the shower. I glanced back at her, trying not to smile too broadly, and saw her peeping at me over the fabric, glaring.

  “You’re welcome,” I said, pointing to her as I pulled off my shirt.

  “I don’t need you to take care of me, Maverick,” she growled, shoving off the blanket and scrambling out of the bed.

  “Oh really?” I unhooked the button of yesterday’s slacks and slid them to the floor, kicking them away and pulling off my socks. I stood before her, nearly naked, and saw the expression on her face change from anger to confusion. She looked away from me, something like guilt crossing her features. I could read between the lines, I’d known her long enough to know what this reaction meant.

  Guilt. Over my helping her, over needing help in the first place, and above all, over wanting Eli more than she wanted me.

  I clenched my jaw, trying not to be too angry over the final piece of that revelation, and turned away from her. “Forget it,” I grumbled, stepping into the shower, and turning on the water. I let the icy stream hit me square in the face, forgetting the last few minutes and focusing on the information I’d uncovered last night.

  I promised my dad I wouldn’t share any of what I found.

  I promised.

  I considered my alternatives carefully. Before I made any sort of move in the direction of her improved mental and physical health, I had to see what Bohanan knew. I guessed he knew quite a bit if he’d come to the only private academy in Switzerland that happened to have his long-lost niece. Couldn’t really be a coincidence, could it?

  The information was clawing at the forefront of my brain. I was used to keeping Celeste’s secrets but this one felt so incredible in its weight, I was beginning to feel like Atlas, holding up someone else’s world. She could receive the info, find a new therapist, work through the PTSD, and she’d be on the road to a happy, pseudo normal life. I also had to consider the legal ramifications of what I would be doing. I didn’t know the specifics, but I could gather that Celeste’s trust fund might be at risk, as well as the possibility that her parents would bear down, whisk her away somewhere and make it all go away like they had 12 years ago.

  It was a delicate fucking situation.

  It was only the first fucking week of the semester.

  When I emerged from the bathroom a few minute later, Celeste was sitting up on the bed, clutching her forehead in obvious agony. I popped back into the bathroom, grabbing the normal bottle of ibuprofen and a single dosage of the medicine I was hoping she should currently be on. Opening her skinny hand, I put the pills into her sweating palm and handed her a bottle of water.

  She took them, swallowing with a wince and looked up at me with bright green eyes, “I’m sorry, Mav.”

  I nodded. I knew she was. Because I knew her. “Don’t mention it, Ace.” I held my hand out to her to pull her from the bed and she took it, moaning a complaint.

  “I had the weirdest dream last night,” she said, rubbing her temples.

  Normally, I’d dismiss her dreams as a prescription junkie side effect, but today was different. Today I had information in my hands that could alter her very future, and potentially how she perceived her entire past. “Why don’t you tell me about it on the way to class,” I offered, shoving my hands into my coat.

  Celeste moved slowly, tugging on her own heavy coat, then running her fingers through her long, thick hair to smooth it out. She joined me at the door to her room, taking the backpack from my outstretched hands and slinging it over her slender shoulder. Thanking me with a smile, we left the room together, and after a few quiet minutes of us leaving the dorm and walking into the blistering cold air, I reminded her of the dream she was supposed to be telling me about.

  “Oh, it was so weird,” she began, green eyes ebbing back into the realm of the living while we crossed the snow-covered grass, “I was on this giant lake, ice skating or something, and I kept spinning and spinning and spinning.” She looked up at me suddenly, “And my mitten was missing, but I could feel the cold, Mav. I could feel the snow melting on my skin.”

  “Have you had that dream before?”

  I held open the heavy wooden door for her and she walked through, glancing around, looking suddenly nervous. I knew the reason: Elliott fucking Ramirez, and took a deep breath, forcing the violent thoughts surrounding that particular curly head from my mind.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t usually dream.”

  I spotted Eli before she did but wasn’t ready to let go of this part of our conversation. She was right, Celeste didn’t dream. She had terrible, debilitating nightmares. I stared down at her, my mind nudging forward my recently discovered information. Was she dreaming now because she’d seen Bohanan, and it triggered a memory of her real mom? “Do you remember anything else?” I asked quietly.

  Her gaze was over my shoulder, and I knew the fucker was approaching us from behind. I checked my watch to avoid seeing her full reaction to him.

  “We can talk about it later,” I mumbled, veering out of the way as Ramirez appeared in my peripherals.

  “Hi,” he said to her. Simple little fucker.

  I heard her response as I walked away, “Hey, sorry about yesterday, I wasn’t feeling well.”

  Holding back a scoff, I climbed the marble stairs to the upper levels, glancing back at them over my shoulder and gripping the wooden banister unnecessarily. I could only hope in vain that Ramirez would decide to fuck off before she could end things with me. Or maybe I could prolong the inevitability with simple avoidance. She couldn’t tell me she wanted to see Ramirez if I wasn’t around to be told. I watched her tuck her hair behind her ears, looking down at her feet nervously and scowled. Now I sounded like the crazy one. I wasn’t going to be yet another person in Celeste’s life keeping her from making her own decisions. This was on her, and w
ith our deep family ties, I knew I’d never truly lose her. Unless I shared the secret of her birthright too soon. Then there would probably be a legal battle, a whole bunch of drama, and we would be like Romeo and Juliet. Maybe.

  ——————————

  It was two agonizing weeks later when I finally had a chance to hunt down the professor and confront him about the Celeste situation. She’d needed me to help her with her homework every day after class and I’d caught up on my own during the lunch hour while she shoved around an uneaten salad and mooned over Ramirez like he’d invented the fucking sun. Each day she spent with him I could feel her pulling away from me, but I remained vigilant in my decision to let her make her own choices. Watching their hallway and cafeteria interactions was mind-numbingly infuriating. A few times a week my rage would come to a boiling point and I’d take it out on the punching bag in the school’s gym, channeling the krav maga tutoring I’d received. It did nothing to calm the fiery gnashing anger in my abdomen, but it kept me from wailing on the subject himself and helped me clear my head to focus on schoolwork.

  Sex was usually the key to my ability to reign in the anger, but even though Celeste continued to climb in through my dorm room window every night and slept right next to me in bed, we kept our hands to ourselves. We hadn’t been back in her room since those first few nights, and she hadn’t had a nightmare, or as far as I knew, a dream, but she chose not to talk about it again.

  My opportunity to talk to Bohanan came at the end of the school week, after the day’s classes were done and students were filtering from classroom to library to dorm. I needed to approach the situation delicately, but I never did anything delicately, and I was tired as fuck from the last two weeks. I found him in his classroom where he sat behind his desk, furiously scribbling into a notebook, and chewing on an apple.

  Knocking on the door, I schooled my expression into one of naive curiosity, hoping I didn’t look like I was preparing to not just potentially drop a giant bomb on his serene life, but interrogate the fucker for anything he knew. He looked up from his desk, surprise written across his very Irish features. “Lockwood, come in. To what do I owe this visit?”

  I reached for the folder I held sandwiched between two of my textbooks, “Well, sir. You’ll have to forgive me,” I started cautiously, “But what you said a couple of weeks ago really resonated with me due to a mystery in my g—friend’s past. So, I did some digging.” I held out the folder to him and he took it from me very, very cautiously, like I was handing him the details of the Manhattan Project. The expression on his face went from curious to grave in a matter of seconds as he looked on the first article from the Greenwhich Free Press. Covering his mouth with his hand, I could see the emotion flitting through his green eyes. After a few long minutes, he looked up at me, same green eyes now rimmed with red. “I haven’t seen a picture of my sister in almost 10 years,” he said quietly and sighed.

  “So, it’s true then. Maeve was your sister?”

  He nodded, the anguish apparent, “I knew this story, the kidnapping one, and I read some of the pieces she did for the NYU newsletter,” he paused, “But I never thought the girl could be hers until I saw Celeste that day.” The look he gave me then was pleading, hoping I saw what he had seen.”

  “They do look a lot alike, and I’m sorry for your loss,” His eyes fell down to the articles when I continued, cautious. “Do you know who her father might be?”

  Bohanan looked up at me, surprised, “Oh I thought that was obvious. It would have to be Jack Hanson.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” I said, sliding into a desk at the front of his room, “It just seems unusual.”

  “I have to say, Mr. Lockwood, I really wasn’t expecting you of all people to be the next person I talked to about this.” His expression was stern, but he gave me a weak smile.

  I shrugged, “I like mysteries.”

  He could tell that I was lying, but assented regardless, putting his hand on the folder. “The last I heard from Maeve she was a graduate student at NYU working as a nanny for a family in the city, some twelve years ago, maybe.”

  “Did she ever mention Mr. Hanson?”

  “When she first got her internship with that company,” he almost spat the word, “she told our mother she’d met someone. No details of course, not even what he looked like. She talked about him for so long, we were starting to wonder why she hadn’t brought him to meet the family. Our sister even teased her, accused her of making it up.” Bohanan’s eyebrows were knitted together as he focused away from me, “I almost started to believe she’d made it up, until I saw Celeste.”

  I shifted in my chair, scowling, “Hanson’s an asshole. I have no doubt he cheated on Carole multiple times, especially with your sister.”

  Bohanan didn’t look appeased.

  “I have to wonder though, sir,” I continued, “why would Carole elect to keep the baby? And why would your sister have been so willing to give her up?”

  Bohanan shook his head, frowning, “I truly don’t know. Maeve always talked about wanting a family.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense to me,” I emphasized, flexing my hand to keep from grinding my teeth together, “They barely acknowledge Celeste. Why go through the trouble?

  Anger crossed the professor’s features, “They neglect her? My sister died so they could simply neglect her daughter?”

  Right. Delicacy. Must control anger. I had no way of escaping that question, even if it was hypothetical. Jack and Carole were shit parents. They’d been shit for as long as I could remember. “That’s my point. Why bother?”

  Bohanan’s cheeks were red with the rage he felt on behalf of his niece and he didn’t say anything for a moment. “I think you’re asking the wrong person.”

  I looked down at my hands. He was right, but I had no one else to ask. My dad couldn’t tell me anything, Jack himself would probably have me locked in an attic in Greece, and it’s not like Carole would be super forthcoming. I moved on, “Did you know she was here?”

  “I didn’t,” he admitted, “I knew there was a connection to the company. I sought out the CEO’s offspring through school, expecting to hopefully find a lead during parent week, maybe even confront the man himself. I had the idea that she was nannying for him and that’s why she kidnapped the girl. I just wanted to—.”

  He drifted off, but I understood, “See if she remembered anything?”

  “Does she?” He asked, a glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

  I shook my head, “I don’t know what happened on that lake, but she’s been medicated ever since for the ‘trauma’ it caused her.”

  Bohanan leaned back in his chair and straightened his glasses. I watched him take a deep breath, processing everything he’d just discovered in the last ten minutes. I could almost feel myself mirroring his thoughts.

  It was going to be one hell of a semester.

  “What’s she like?” Bohanan asked me then, his expression curious.

  “Celeste?”

  He nodded. “I’ve heard rumors from other teachers…not good ones, but I would hate to make a hasty decision about my own niece.”

  I thought for a moment. How do you even describe a person like Celeste?

  “She’s rare,” I blurted, feeling like an idiot, “I mean—not like totally unique, but…” What the fuck was I saying? I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair, trying to collect my thoughts. Why was this question so fucking hard? “She’s on a lot of medications, so her brain is a little fuzzy at times. But she’s smart, smarter than anyone thinks. And clever, she makes me laugh all the time. And I mean, she’s got issues, but nothing we can’t work through when all of this is over.” I gestured around the room. “She’s been dealt a shitty hand, but she’s still really kind, and thoughtful. Even to the people who deserve it the least.” I stopped talking, unsure of what the fuck I’d just said.

  “You’ve known her your whole life?” Bohanan asked.

  I nodded
, feeling mildly embarrassed.

  “Is she…spoiled?”

  I understood the implication. Was Celeste just another daughter of a rich asshole who get everything she wanted and walked all over everyone else?

  “No, surprisingly, she doesn’t ask her parents for anything.” Except maybe love and attention. “She didn’t even want to come here,” I let out a shallow chuckle. “She’s only here because my parents enrolled me. Celeste wanted a normal life.”

  Bohanan was quiet, looking down at his desk.

  A few moments passed before I spoke again, “Listen, sir. I did bring this, well, some of it, up to my dad, and legally I’m not allowed to tell Celeste until she turns 18.”

  He ran a hand down his face, and I could see the exasperation in his expression. “She doesn’t know.”

  “And apparently she can’t. I’m not saying I agree with the rules here, but I can’t get my dad in trouble.”

  He was pissed. I could tell by the way his face reddened, “So I’m working at an international school with my long-lost niece, and I don’t even get to talk to her?”

  I shrugged, “I never said you couldn’t talk to her, you just can’t out of the blue be like, ‘so I’m your uncle, cool right?’”

  To my surprise, Bohanan laughed. “I guess that would be a little odd.”

  “I’m formulating a plan, for her 18th birthday, I just want to make sure I have all the information.”

  He held up his hands, “Is there anything else you want to know that you think I can tell you?”

  I thought for a moment and felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was a text from Celeste.

  Celeste: Let myself in. Where are you?

  It was way early for her to be showing up at my dorm, and I had a very bad feeling I was getting replaced tonight.