“Argh! Stupid dog! Sorry, Sea are you still there?"
I pressed the phone to my ear to hear his voice stumbling gawkily. I cradled it carefully, and paced in rhythmical circles around my room.
"Uh, yes. Is everything alright?" I asked timidly, not knowing Terrance's current situation.
I heard him hum to himself, then the sounds of movement and footsteps pounding up a set of stairs. "Sure. I'm alright. My aunt's scrawny little rat, excuse me, dog was nipping at me again. Stupid thing," he muttered into the phone.
I softly chuckled in the darkness. A few radiant figures of light were alive and slowly dancing as they escaped the waving curtain, making the otherwise shadowy space rather lively and mystical.
I rubbed my face with my soft sweater sleeve over my hand in a contented fatigue. Taking a seat on the bed, I listenedto the loud slam of a door forced shut, and Terrance letting out a long exasperated sigh.
"My aunt's okay. She's really nice and friendly, I mean. It's just a little boring and lonely up here. And then, of course there's that dog and all..." he trailed off, and I could almost see him staring off into the distance.
"Oh," I murmured, wishing that I could have been a better person to talk to, someone to easily come up with brilliant advice. "What's up with your mom?" I asked.
He scoffed, and quietly complained, "She's hanging out with my aunt. They're like, BFFs or something. Everything they say has to do with some private joke or whatnot. I'm a little left out.”
I thought this over and silently agreed that it would be a little strange seeing Sherry together with her sister. However, I realised that it would be quite nice for her to begin recovery with a loved one.
"I see. So what have you been doing all this time then?" I asked.
"Working on my papers for school, and messaging random people," he went on. "Stupid people though. So stupid." I could then see him shaking his head to himself.
"Whom are you referring to?" I mused with a casual curiosity.
"Ah, I don't know. Derek, I guess. I never realised just how stupid people really are. Myself included," he answered glumly.
The complete sadness in his voice tweaked my heart, as if I were suffering survivor’s guilt. I felt as though I had finally come unto a decent sanctuary to call my own, while shutting out Terrance in the cold bitter winds of full exposure.
"So, how are you doing? With the new place and stuff," he tried to slip out the question as gently and casually as he could. He must have felt as though the words he carried were fragile artefacts in a heavy box, awkwardly handed over to me.
"I...am good. Very good actually. Uh, I like my new room," I stammered awkwardly.
"Oh really? That's cool," he replied, but with a tinge indifference in his voice. He was off in the stars, probably trying to organize into them constellations where I was hiding relations with a cheap veneer. Or perhaps, he was arranging them quite nicely in his mind, and I was simply overestimating my secrecy.
The thoughts of my promise to keep him updated rang in my mind with a dull pounding blare.
"Yes, yes it is,” I said. “Claire says that I can go to school next week. That'll be fun.”
"Oh, how very nice," Terrance said. "So are going to tell me what's really going on now?"
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb, Sea. Did something happen?”
I lowered my gaze to the floor, instantly becoming quite immersed in the lines of the flooring. I studied it with great diligence, and tried to say something.
"Sea." he said with the sound of accusation and concern in his voice. "What happened?"
His eyes locked onto mine with such immense intensity, as if he was locking me into his own personal storm. They flickered over me in a frantic bewilderment, as he began to stand in horror. “No, no, no. Don’t say that, don’t talk about me anymore. Catherine’s dead, she’s DEAD, Sea. You need to stop this now, and let everything go,” Lincoln went on in his troubled rant, becoming louder, and stronger in his voice.
I rose to my feet, entranced in his words that tumbled from his mouth into a pile of angered shards of broken dread on the floor. “Lincoln,” I pleaded. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, tell me how you know her then. How do you know my mother?”
His panicked murmurings stopped, and he froze from his pacing. He slowly turned to me. “No. I don’t know, I don’t know anything anymore!” he looked to the window, silent in our hurried banter. “I must leave,”
“Lincoln, please! You said that you had some answers.”
“And I said too much already. That is all I recall, and Charlie will be angry. And Sea,” he turned around, suddenly looking clear of thought and rational. “Do you know what to do if you get lost in a forest?”
Baffled, I shook my head and stared in query.
“You stay where you are, before you get hurt. Like me.”
“Sea! Can you please answer me?” Terrance demanded in frustration, breaking me from my disturbing reverie of harrowing dread.
"Sorry. Yeah, something did happen. I think it’s been troubling me, and I don’t know who to tell,” I slowly murmured to the tangerine walls.
“Me, obviously! Spit it out already.”
I nodded, and ran circles on my blanket with my finger. Terrance cleared his throat. “Okay,” I relented. “I’ll tell you what happened.” My breath quivered with each word, and I took a deep breath. “There’s another girl on our street, and so I went over to her lawn to try to talk to her today. She lives just across the street. And, I don’t know, she just flipped out on me. It freaked me right out, I guess.”
“Oh wow,” he sympathized. “That’s stupid.”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Yeah it is.”
"Sea?" I heard Claire's voice call up to me from the bottom of the stairs.
I pressed the phone down on the bed, muffling the sound as I called back.
“Come down here please!”
"Hey,” I said back into the phone. “I'm going to have to talk to you later. I'm being summoned.”
He hummed, and sighed. "Alright then. Chow for now," he answered.
I hung up and tossed it on my bed before groaning to get up. Grogginess set in, and I could still taste the sour words in my mouth, like a sticky film of unpleasant liquid that I couldn’t seem to swallow.
I padded out of the room, and tumbled down the stairs in my bare feet, as the draughtiness of the wood oozed into my skin, making me wish for a pair of thick wool socks.
Claire was there to greet me with a tight smile. "Were you just talking to Terrance?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah," I yawned.
She noted my fatigue, and furrowed her brow. "Tired?"
I nodded again and shrugged.
She nodded herself, informing me of Samuel’s presence. "I think he just wants to speak to you for a few moments."
"Okay. Thanks," I replied with a smile. I felt as though she had tensed up ever since the visit to the library. I couldn’t get the look of stricken worry he splashed over me when I nearly fell down in front of her in my frantic rush.
She directed me into the living room, to where I found the man plopped on the couch. I stared at him for a moment, the easiness he had in our soft brown couch, and looked to Claire for guidance. She smiled and nodded.
Uncertainly, I moved towards the chair in front of him, watching him watch my hesitant move. I sat down uneasily, and sat he gave me a toothy grin.
As I noted on our last encounter at Sherry's house, he still didn't look quite like a social worker. He wore a forest green button-up shirt over dark blue jeans. Accompanied with professional, but battered, dusty looking shoes that any one in his field would have hated. He had a wide, build and a round jolly face, and with his blond hair combed to the side in a patch of waving gold curls and his welcoming smile, he reminded me of a happy little teddy bear.
He reached across the coffee table to offer his hand. I took it, feeling his firm hand slide over mine and give it a good hard shake.
"Hello Sea. How are you?" he asked.
I nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Good, thanks. How are you?"
He chuckled deeply. "I'm terrific. I was hoping that I could talk to you about some things, but today is just the most splendid day, it’s be a shame to waste it. We should go for a hike instead. You’ve been outside today already, right?" he asked.
I could only stare at the man, wondering what kind of profession he was. Certainly, this wasn’t part of protocol. I could think of no words that could be supportive or appropriate for an answer.
Samuel simply smiled at me. "Yes? You seemed like the kind of person who appreciates a beautiful day, but if you don't, then that's alright..."
“It’s okay. Sure, we can go outside,” I conformed, piqued with a casual interest on his rationale. One’s rationale for anything would be enough to intrigue me those days.
He nodded. "Cool," he said and pouted his lip as he nodded again. Craning his neck to look around the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes danced across the room.
"Claire?" he called out hesitantly.
I only heard sounds of her busily working in the kitchen. She happily hummed as she bustled.
"Claire!" he said a little louder.
As he called, I took my own mental walk around the room, visiting the old pictures of ducks in flight, captured in cracked frames over the brown walls. Knickknacks covered the shelf above him, looking down at me from they home high above the floor.
"Yes dear?" she called back, quickly emerging into the room with a mug and a dish towel in her hands.
Samuel scratched his face, saying, "Sea and I were just thinking that it would be nice to go over everything during a walk through the neighbourhood. Do you think we could, with your permission?"
Claire cocked her head, but then shrugged. "Why, of course! I don't see a problem with that."
He thanked her, and looked at me with a smirk, and then motioned me to get ready.
I hurried to the front door to pull on my thick brown sweater, but realized that I was still barefooted. My black slip-on shoes were sitting right in front of me, tempting me. I knew I should have gone upstairs to pull out some socks and my sneakers, especially since I usually wore my flats as slippers, but slipped them over my feet anyways and declared myself ready.
I stole a quick glance in the mirror that Claire had at the front of the kitchen before we headed out the door. My hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and my face looked abnormally pale, making my freckles even more noticeable. My clothes felt heavy, and miss-matched, and I was uncomfortable in my own skin. And perhaps, with my whole life.
I waved to Claire, and then rushed after Samuel, whom was already down the giant porch stairs.
Entering through the door was like a portal to another life of its own, as it was in everyday experiences. I walked through the door, feeling the grasp of the old memory slipping away, as I pulled on through. a part of me urged me to stay, and be sealed within the walls of that house until the storms let up, but I knew that they never would.
The pines towered over us with pride in their crystallized needles, sparking like glittering diamonds in the light of the hazy sun. The brightness reflected into my eyes, opening them to this sweet sight of mine, and soaked into my skin. Warmth seeped into my body, but somehow left the essence astringent and raw.
Once I hurried to the end of the ever twisting path, and my shuffling feet came to a silent stop, Samuel stopped to stare at me. I panted for a while, trying to keep it low so that he couldn't hear it.
Then we continued on, walking in tune to the whirling wind. I watched the sidewalk pass behind my down by my feet, strategically pacing my steps as to avoid the risks of the sidewalk cracks.
Soon, the rhythmic clicks of my feet hitting the ground fell into a numerical sequential pattern, and once I began counting them in my mind, I slipped back into reality, and looked up at Samuel. Avoiding reality had become a pass time too familiar to forget.
My mind once seemed to be busy, but organized and lonely, has then rearranged itself into a jumbled mess of tangled questions. At that moment, one in particular burned for my acknowledgment, and could be ignored no longer. I cleared my throat.
"Samuel? Who are you? Or, um, what exactly are you trying to do?" I asked with much awkwardness and tension.
He looked at me with an amused look on his face. "I knew you would have realised by now. You're a smart girl. Wish I were like that sometimes," he said, shaking his head. "But I like being oblivious to the world's flaws."
I nodded, looking anywhere but at him, and still wanting an answer.
He sighed, as if preparing for the delivery of the information. "I, obviously, am not a child care worker of any sort. In my defence though, I never claimed to be one. In fact, I never even said exactly who I am to Sherry or to Claire. My apologies for that, by the way. I am, however, a pretty darn interesting detective," he said with a shrug.
I watched him bounce up and down with his steps, urging him to continue.
"And,” he went forward, taking great consideration with his words. “I'm not exactly working on a specific case with you, but it may or may not develop into one. So, I just wanted to see where this will go," he wandered with his words.
May or may not develop into one.
Those words lingered in my mind, making me wonder with worry.
He nodded, and we walked in silence. I realised that we were bound for my new school before he started up the conversation again.
"Claire told me that something might have upset you recently. Today, perhaps. Although I may not be a ‘trained’ professional,” he air quoted the word in disgust, “but I can listen just as well as most people. And, I am quite interested in what you have to say."
We headed over the dewy grass, the dampness licking over my feet in cold slithering brushes. I listened to the smooth rustling sound we made as we treaded over into the vast field, trying to piece together a decent explanation. I felt as though he deserved an explanation, not over Terrance, but that he needed it more, and that his knowledge might actually be of benefit.
"Well, yes, I suppose. Um, I really don't know how to explain that though. There has been this man following me for awhile now, saying that he was looking out for me, and that he was part of my family. I assumed that he was my father. It just made sense at the time," I admitted. The story was getting old.
"It's okay. I believe you."
I nodded dumbly.
"I mean, I know that he's never coming back. I accept that. It's not that I'm trying to find him or anything..." I trailed off.
Samuel looked at me with surprise. "You mean, you don't think that he's alive?"
I shook my head as we veered off to the side, where a perfected line of pine trees stood in their eternal roots.
"What do you remember of him?" he asked me.
I shrugged, not knowing what to say, and feeling slightly uncomfortable. "He was rather intelligent, and had books of all kinds, according to my mom, He taught me to read and write the second I could speak, and talked to me about different poems or songs that he liked. He was a good person, and I wish I got the chance to know him," I told him, but held back my raging emotions. I told myself to stay as professional as possible, and lock my actual thoughts into another part of my mind, as not to suffocate but instead to thrive without me for a change.
He nodded and marched towards the first brawny tree of silent still peace and graciousness, and parked himself underneath its cool shelter. I planted myself beside him in the dusty dirt, which was hidden from the rain beneath the concealing protection of its wisdom. I breathed slowly, and immediately started to pet the damp grass. It felt watery and clean on my dry, cracking hands.
"So, what do you think happened to him?" he asked curiously, watching the school stand strong and firm in front of us.
"I don't know. I grew up hearing that he was either murdered, or abandoned us. But…he wasn't the type of person who would just pack up and leave, no matter what was going on. At least from my understanding," I murmured.
"Got that right," he answered quietly, just above a whisper.
"Pardon?"
"Your dad. He didn't walk away from you. That's the kind-of-kind-of-not-really case. I want to know what happed to him," he informed matter-of-factly, and plucked a blade of grass from the earth. He examined and admired it closely, bringing it to his face.
I sighed and ripped a clump of grass out, feeling the wet mass of dirty roots I managed to yank out in a thick clump, grasped in my hands.
"Why does it matter? If you think that he's dead, then fine, so be it. Why bother with what’s already set in stone?” I asked. “I'm sorry, but I really don’t see the point.”
"Dead? No, Sea I don't think that your father is dead. And this matters to me very much, for I knew your father. He was a good friend of mine," he defended.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't think of anything useful, or anything that would make sense. Thankfully, he broke the silence. "That man you saw today. Could you tell me his name?"
I shook my head in disbelief. “What’s this about?”
"Please. I need to talk to him. He may be connected to this too."
I shook my head again and looked away, wondering what he would think if I randomly started counting to five.
He inched his face closer to me, looking concerned. His blue eyes danced as he put his thick hair hand on my shoulder, and I felt incredibly discomfited as he kissed my head. It was a fatherly thing to do, but highly unprofessional. Not that he was professional, but I barely knew the old man.
"Hey there. Is everything alright?" he asked slowly. "Can you just tell me his name? It may help.”
“Samuel, I really don’t know what you’re getting at. I don’t understand.”
The weight of his gaze on my face pushed in my mind. I looked at the ground, stretching far from my view, yet up close and personally sitting there before me, the way a gallant army would.
“His name is Lincoln.”
He nodded slowly, still hanging on my tiny words long after they flew to the clouds to die.
“Do you want me to leave you out of this? I just thought that you could help me...and I thought that you had the right to know what I was doing."
I stared blankly at the school I would be attending in the next day. "I'm okay. I need to know"
He nodded again, and then pulled me into an embrace, as if we’d been great friends all our live. Perhaps we were, and I only knew part of who I really was behind my everyday eyes, and my everyday miscellaneous voices of flowing thought. He felt like a mist of sorrow in that embrace, and in that hardness of his skin, like he was falling helplessly into hopelessness. And I was drowning him. My whole story was drowning him.
"Do you want to help me with this? Can you?" he invited, pulling away only slightly enough for me to see how sincere his eyes were.
"Ah, well. I-I don't know. I g-guess so. But I-I…" nothing but incomprehensible sounds fell out of my mouth.
He pulled away, and went back to scratching the ground. "I feel as though I have to do this. There's more going on than I know, and you may be the key in. You play a very important role in this thing, and I don't think it's just your father we're looking for. You deserve to know to answers you desire, and I can help you do that," he said cautiously. "I would never let you get too involved. After all, I am a detective. Not a good one, but still. I know when it's too deep. So what do you say?"
I knew what I wanted, I wasn’t sure if it even made sense. Had I not only accepted one’s supposed answers a mere hours before, only to have them thrown back in my face?
“Yes,” said I to he, and to the slow swirling air of the field, and threw my clump of dirt out into the distance. It fell hardly a metre away. I wiped the remaining traces of dusty dirt on my jeans.
I was already knee deep in puzzlement and a growing intensity of inquisitiveness, and I, perhaps being the vulnerable foolish one, accepted to move in deeper.
A.N// I don't know how this chapter became so long, since it was quite dull. My apologies:P