Forgotten (5 page)

This was Zephyr, a large, contemporary
complex situated directly opposite the bay.

This was my home.

Renting a
unit there was more expensive than others further inland, but I
didn’t care. I loved its coastal position, the tranquility of its
beautifully manicured gardens and more importantly, the high
security it offered.

“
We’ll wait
‘til you’re inside the gate,” Peter drawled.

I muttered
my thanks. Hazy from the champagne, I stumbled to the steely
entrance. A bright, sensor light immediately kicked in making me
wince. I fingered my password into the code pad. It flashed
Incorrect
in neon red. I growled and tried again. A third attempt
finally saw the gate swing away from me.

Mel semi-emerged from her rolled down
window. “You look pissed, Cabriati.”

I pulled an indignant face at her. Pissed I
was not. Mellow and relaxed, definitely.

Mel laughed as the car rumbled away.

I swung the
gate closed, heard it clang into place. I then sauntered along the
cobbled pathways, swinging my bag. Subdued lighting from the tall,
arched streetlamps guided my way. I raised my head and breathed in
the delights of the night air. Its cool touch brushed my heated
skin, bringing with it the mouth-watering aromas of a distant
barbecue, the sweet sounds of the ocean waves licking the
shores.

The sound of the gate closing made me
stop.

Someone else returning home, perhaps?

I turned.
Moonlight shed a dull, ghostly light along the tall, concrete walls
and its darkened entrance giving it an almost menacing appearance.
I narrowed my eyes and searched, but saw no one.

Did I imagine it?

For the third time that day
?

I quickened
my pace and the tapping of my heels became more
pronounced. A branch cracked, leaves crunched. I stopped
and swung another look behind me.

Again, no one.

“
Is anyone
there?” I called. I cleared my voice. It sounded too
scratchy.

Silence.

I resumed my
pace. A troubled feeling inched under my skin, digging deeper with
each hurried step. I was amazed how alert I’d suddenly become.
Visions of my unit, the protection it offered only sharpened that
feeling. I turned again at yet another unexpected sound, like
strong nails scratching a blackboard.

Still nothing.

Fear gripped
me. It rebuked me for being irrational. It also instructed me to
move faster. And I did, scuttling past the initial buildings. A
howling dog sparked more shivers, more fear.

Always the fear.

I was almost running. My breathing jagged,
rapid. My heart drumming harshly against my chest.

When
I saw a figure standing rigidly near one of the
lampposts, I slammed still. My hand gripped my mouth and stifled a
scream. The figure hastily stepped into the light.

It was a
woman, tiny, almost childlike. But her faintly creased brow, the
soft semi-circles cornering her mouth and the lines fanning her
eyes, suggested someone much older. Her golden hair was wrenched
high, set in a thick plait that tumbled over her shoulder and down
her white shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly, appearing
quite alarmed herself.

I said nothing. I was too busy sucking in
air.

She was pulling her plait, twirling it
repeatedly around her small fingers. “I didn’t mean to frighten
you.”

I
immediately felt a little crazy about my behavior. I had probably
frightened the poor woman more. “It’s me who should apologize.” I
forced a feeble smile.

A short, uncomfortable silence followed.

“
So
, was that you who just came
through the gate?” I had to know.

But she shook her head.

I grimaced.
Strangely, the woman continued staring at me. She was partially
smiling but her lips were trembling and her eyes were moist. I
stepped closer. “Are you all right?”

She wiped her finger beneath each eye and
nodded. “It’s just that… that I have been waiting for such a very,
very long time.”

It was an odd thing to say but she appeared
so sad, so fragile. I wanted to help. “Who are you waiting for?
Maybe I know them.”

The lines on
her brow deepened and her plait twisting became clumsy and jerky.
“I’ve… actually been waiting… for…
you
.”

What?

She frowned
in a way that made me think she
feared my
reaction. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure how to react. Instead,
I did a hurried scan of her, looking for anything familiar. But
there was nothing. Maybe she had the wrong person.

“
Do I know
you?”
I asked.

Her
‘yes’ was soft and unsteady.

I leaned in
closer, studied her again, this time with more care. That’s when I
noticed her eyes, richly dark, emotionally intense.

Eyes I had seen before.

I
gasped.
“Who are you?”

The woman took a small, tentative step
towards me. Her troubled expression was gone. Instead, her face now
twinkled with a recalled affection. “Cordy-Bear” she murmured.
Tears rolled down her paling cheeks.

I staggered
at the name. Another memory hit me. A different one, infinitesimal
at first, but eventually bursting into images of a much younger
woman: one with the same loving eyes, the same generous
smile.

And
one who would use
that name often.

“Who are you?” I spluttered again. My
fingers were wobbly and my bag slipped from them. I heard it land
with a soft thud.

The woman
drew closer still and with the same tenderness, clutched one of my
hands between both of her own. An immediate sensation of comfort
followed. Her skin was velvety, so smooth and inviting and the
soothing smells of cinnamon and vanilla emanated from her. Her
familiarity, her unfamiliarity confused me, yet oddly warmed
me.

And for one
brief, crazy moment,
fear
left me.

And it felt so damn liberating.

My smile was huge.

Hers showed
such joy.

“
I
have things to tell you,” she whispered,
“important things.”

I merely
wanted a credible explanation for our unusual connection. As if
sensing my need, she released my hand and began fingering inside
her bag. I held my breath. The object she pulled out was white,
flat. An envelope? She placed it in my hands and closed my fingers
over it. As she moved away, I noticed it was indeed an envelope, a
large one with my name exquisitely inscribed on its
front.

Beneath it,
also flawless, the words…
love from Alice
.

Alice?

Alice who?

“Happy birthday, Cordy-Bear,” she said.

Happy birthday?

At once, I recalled similar envelopes with
similar inscriptions, ones I would find every year beneath my
pillow. Inside would reveal the most striking cards, each
meticulously handcrafted, each creation unique, with perfectly
quilled flowers and satin bows and clever pop-out surprises.

“It’s not my birthday,” I whispered, the
same words I whispered every year.

Her only
answer was a kindly smile. So many questions sprang to mind. But
for now, they seemed unimportant. For now, it seemed as if time had
stopped still just for us.

Until…

Her eyebrows
arched unexpectedly, her widened eyes shot over my shoulder. I
began to swing around but her surprisingly strong hand whipped hard
against my chest instantly unbalancing me. I fell sideways, seizing
several branches of a nearby
bush. As I
tried righting myself, I heard it.

The crack.

Ripping the air.

What
followed was unclear, erratic. Yet several impressions stayed
strong.

Of me
automatically swinging to the sound’s direction, discovering
nothing. Of the sensation of sticky patches sprayed upon my already
bristly skin. Of the woman’s startled face frozen into something
horribly twisted.

My muscles
began jellifying, my heart pounded erratically. And a knot of
strong, undiluted fear rocketed from deep within. With unblinking
eyes, I looked down to the woman’s hands. They were grasping her
chest, the white of her shirt crumpled in her small fists. A circle
of red had formed and was rapidly spreading across her
shirt.

She looked
down once
and then returned her glassy,
terrified eyes to me. “I’m sorry... so, so sorry,” she choked.
Blood burst in broken bubbles from her mouth as her body began to
slowly fold.

I
instinctively reached forward to stop her from falling. But it was
too late. She crumpled to the ground. Piercing screams shattered
the silence.

It took me a
good fifteen seconds to realize that those screams were my
own.

1987

THE LITTLE GIRL
finished counting to ten and removed her fingers from her
face. “I’m coming,” she chimed, her voice sounding like a thousand
crystals colliding in the breeze. Delight crinkled her pretty face;
her smile was as large as the sprawling gardens surrounding
her.

Her joyous eyes danced from side to side,
eagerly searching which way to go. Ahead of her was an enormous,
old fountain expelling water from numerous fine jets. Nearby, two
marble lions guarded the structure. Granite pathways snaked from
the fountain’s corners until they vanished into hidden twists and
profuse vegetation.

The girl ran to the fountain, first stopping at one of the
lions looming menacingly over her. She wasn’t afraid of it. She was
used to its snarling glare and its threatening jaw. She grabbed
hold of one its sun-warmed paws and swung around to the back of
it.

“
Boo,” she shrieked, but there was no one there. She
repeated the same performance with the other lion, and as before,
the space was empty. She jumped up and down clapping her hands, the
long waves of her hair bouncing in rhythm to her jumps. “Where are
you?”

No answer.

She proceeded to skip around the fountain,
pausing to watch one of the jets streaming water high into the sky.
She raised her small head in an attempt to see its tip but instead,
the cruel, summer sun blinded her. Rubbing her eyes, she waited for
her sight to return and then pranced down one of the pathways. In
playful rhythms, she leapt behind every bush, every garden ornament
that crossed her way, seeking the hidden. In time she did, a tiny
woman sitting behind a solid, stone statue of an angel.

“
There you are,” the girl sang with much
satisfaction. “I told you I could find you.”

“
You should always know I’d be here, little one,” the woman
said, twisting her long
golden plait around her fingers.

“
Why?” she asked in her sweetest
tone.

“
Because it’s the guardian angel, and
that’s who I am.” The woman moved aside, revealing a gift-wrapped
package resting on an old, weathered bench. “Happy birthday, little
one.”

The girl shrieked.
She raced to the package; her fingers impatiently worked at
its wrapping. And when completed, there, amongst the fragments of
the ripped and crumpled paper, lay an adorable rag doll. It had
huge eyes and long hair just like hers, and remarkably in the same
color. It wore a blue and white dress, edged in lace just like her
favorite dress.

She hastily picked it up and bundled it lovingly into her
neck. “Dolly,” she whispered. She then wrapped one arm around the
woman. “Thank you, Alice, thank you,” she said, with her child-like
sincerity. “I love you so much… so very much.”

“
I know, little one, and I love you
too.”

And Alice meant every word.

December 12, 2010

3:35 pm

SAUL REARDON
LEANED
against his office
desk.

It was
large, curved and handcrafted from solid mahogany. On its dark
leather inlay lay the basics, an ACER laptop, a white, slimline
lamp and a black, multifunctional printer. An out of place snow
globe titled
The Magic
Forest
rested to the left of a
cylindrical container of sharpened pencils.

A man,
fortyish, thickset with a bushy beard and brows to match, stood
across from Reardon, nervously wringing a shabby-looking cap in his
large hands. His face was tanned and heavily lined.

“
I don’t
know what to say, Jacko,” Reardon said, staring at the small,
unopened gift in his hands. And he didn’t. Jacko could barely
afford the family’s next dinner, let alone whatever was inside the
parcel.

“
We knows
yer don’t want no money and all
, but
well… what yer did for us….” Jacko shrugged and dropped his
head.

Reardon
looked up, felt something decent stir inside of him. He stepped
forward and calmly rested his hand on Jacko’s rounded shoulder. “I
was happy to do it.”

Jacko blinked away the rising moisture in
his eyes. “Yer such a selfless man.”