The Lonely (37 page)

His
face flushes like mine does, "That’s not true. I dated at college. I just
put myself into my work. He's one to talk anyway, he bloody well works for me
now."

I
laugh at his red face. He wrinkles his nose and sneers, "You're still a
little brat."

I
stick my tongue out.

But
behind it all, I know their lives were stunted because of our situation. I was
taken and everything else was hard. I'm grateful for them.

I
take a deep breath and grip her hand. I look down and nod, "Do it."

She
rings the bell.

A
man in a suit answers the door.

"Hello.
How may I help you?" He has an English accent and reminds me of Niles on
The Nanny. I love Netfilx.

"We
called about meeting with the Adams family." Shell snickers. I fight a
grin. "Uhm…Michelle and Sarah."

His
eyes light up, "Of course. Yes. Please come in. They're expecting you."
My heart is in my throat. He opens the door more and we walk in. The home is
posh and overly fancy. I feel like I'm at a hotel I can't afford.

He
leads us to a study where a thin woman in a white pantsuit is waiting for us. A
man is across the room doing some kind of paperwork. They are both older and
worn looking, but in a rich sort of way.

The
woman in the pantsuit turns as we are announced, "Miss Mastermen and Miss
Monkton to see you."

I
still feel weird being a Mastermen.

"Thank
you, Franklin. We'll take tea in the sitting room." She rushes at me and
puts her hands out,
 
"You must
be Sarah." Her eyes are icy-blue like Eli's. Her smile is cold and
distant. She never fully warms up I don’t think. I nod, "I am, Mrs. Adams.
Thank you for seeing me."

She
shakes her head, "Gloria. Please call me Gloria."

His
father stands and offers me his hand, "And call me Dick." Michelle
snorts.

I
shake his huge warm hand. "It's nice to meet you both. This is my friend
Michelle."

She
waves, "Hi."

They
look phony and cold when they greet her, "Hello." They almost talk
like they too have accents. They enunciate everything. Mrs. Adams' blue eyes
sparkle, "We were so pleased when you called." I see a flash of pain
or something in her eyes.

I
nod, "I was scared you wouldn’t want to see me."

She
shakes her head, "We never blamed you. Dear child, never."

His
father smirks, "We were actually quite grateful you existed at all. Poor
Eli was considered quite mad for some time."

It
hurts me inside but I fight it and shake my head, "It was me." The
words are breathy and soft.

His
father's response is not one I expected. He grabs my chin and points my face at
his, "You saved her. You freed her."

I'm
not strong enough for it. I don’t want their forgiveness. I want a clean
conscience. I have confessed and wish to be absolved by god, not them.

Her
lip quivers. She puts a hand up to her mouth, "Forgive me. I'm just so
grateful you are here." She wraps her arms around me. I'm stunned. Even
more stunned when his arms find their way around me as well. It isn’t easy to
be forgiven.

"Tea
is served." I've never been grateful for that statement before but I am
now. We sniffle and wipe and make our way into the sitting room, following
behind Franklin. It too feels like the set of an Austen movie. Floral and fancy
with gilded frames and sculptures and chairs that feel like they haven’t been
broken in yet, regardless of being a hundred years old.

I
sit and take the tea on a plate with a cookie. I don’t know what I'm supposed
to do with it. I stare down at the black tea and dread drinking it.

Shell
holds hers up, "Can I get some cream and sugar please."

Franklin
looks appalled. "It's got honey and lemon in it. It's Earl Grey."

I
gag.

I
stir the cup and try not to let the smell get near my face. It reminds me of
the cell a bit.

"Have
you heard from Eli?" his mother asks casually, as if we hadn’t all just
cried.

I
nod, "A couple weeks ago. He was in a village building houses with some missionaries
and then they were leaving with some doctors from the Doctors Without Borders.
They were vaccinating and stuff in a remote area."

She
sighs, "I don’t like this. I know he's fond of you, always has been. When
he was in the center he used to write you these letters. It was quite sad.
Anyway, surely you must be able to get him to come home?"

My
mouth waters as I catch a whiff of the tea and shake my head, "No." I
swallow, "I don’t think so. He's pretty bent on finding himself."

His
dad scoffs, "It's that damned Doctor Bradley, no doubt, that put this
foolish notion into his head. Her pseudo science almost lost him several times.
She has those theories about pushing people to the brink. Crazy woman."

"Yes."
I raise my eyebrows. I don’t know how to tell them it was me that made him want
to do this.

Michelle
sips the tea loudly before speaking, "I'm sure he's fine. It's good to go
get dirty sometimes. Makes you appreciate everything else more. He's only been
gone a couple months. He'll be fine."

His
parents look disturbed for a microsecond and then smile and nod.

I
look at them hesitantly, "Have you heard from Dr. Bradley at all?"

His
mother scoffs, "Hmph, she won't darken our doorway anytime soon. That
woman is dangerous. Franklin has had her removed from the property. Right
before he left, Eli came to us and told us an alarming tale of his recovery
with her. She is insane. I blame her entirely for his want to be in South
America. He's so bent on proving himself."

His
father agrees, "Yes. We have told him time and time again how proud of him
we are. Someone like him cannot expect a full life and a full recovery. He is
doing well for someone like him." He nods at me, "As are you."

My
blood is boiling. It's no wonder he was so dependant on Dr. Bradley, or that he
was so easily swayed by her and eventually used by her. I had been stuck on the
words, 'the centre', but the last sentence has me there. I stand with the
teacup trembling in my hands. "Well, thank you for tea and for meeting
with us. We should be going though."

Michelle
is mid sip when she stands and hands the cup and saucer to Franklin, who is
standing at the ready. "Have a lovely day." I want to say life. I
want to practice my boxing moves. I want to scream my face off. I take deep
breaths and storm to the front door. Michelle is jogging to catch up to me.

We
walk out into the cool spring air and I know what I have to do, beyond forget I
ever met those people.

I
get her to drive us to the airport.

I
phone Lyle, "Hey."

He
sounds funny, "Hey."

"I
need you to book me a flight."

Michelle
looks at me like I'm nuts.

The
heat of the day is unbearable to my cold Boston skin. I now it isn’t any hotter
than a New Mexico summer day, but it feels like it's scorching me. The jeep I'm
in has no roof. I'm holding a rag over my face to keep the sand out of my
lungs. I am under prepared and completely moronic. I see this now.

We
drive until we get to a small village. The people stare at me. I'm scared and
in desperate need of hand sanitizer. I don’t like the feeling of being watched.
I get that my blonde hair is intriguing but I'm uncomfortable. I'm not strong
enough for this.

My
driver climbs out. He's one of the drivers for the Doctors Without Borders. He
picked me up from the airport that I called a patch of grass with a shack on
it. Lyle and Stuart arranged everything for me.

He
looks back at me as he walks up into the village. I watch him speaking to a
man. The man looks at me and makes a face. The driver looks back. My breathing
is starting to make my chest rise and fall rapidly. I can feel the panic.
Something is wrong.

He
comes back with a look on his face. A look I'm not sure I can handle.

He
shakes his head, "They left here about a week ago and went into a remote
part of the jungle. There was a sickness there."

"Okay
well let's go there then."

He
shakes his head, "Everyone is on quarantine. No one is allowed in or out.
They are calling it a plague."

My
hand dives into my shorts pocket and grabs at my sani. I dump it into my hand
and spread it around. He watches me.

"You
okay?"

I
shake my head, "I want to go to him."

He
gets in the jeep, "No. We go to the closest village but if they don’t have
news, we leave."

I'm
desperate and sick. He's going to die to teach me to be grateful for the time
we spent together instead of always judging myself and him for it. I'm almost
crying but I know the sand will be brutal if I cry.

I
look up at the clear sky and clasp my hands. I have not prayed since they made
me last at church.

"Watch,
oh Lord, with those who wake or watch or weep tonight and give your Angels and
Saints charge over those who sleep. Tend your sick ones, O Lord Christ. Rest
your weary ones. Bless your dying ones. Soothe your suffering ones. Pity your
afflicted ones. And all for Your love's sake. Amen." I close my eyes and
open my heart. I pray he can see it. He has kept me safe. Up to this point a
million things could have happened differently but I see the miracle of it all.
I see the help I've received. I don’t see it the way the church does but I
still see it.

"You
a nun?"

I
glance at him, as he drives, "No I went to Catholic school." I lie. I
don’t want him to see the poor orphan. She doesn’t really exist anyway. I never
was an orphan.

He
drives back into the small town where I have a room.

I
see him instantly. He looks different. More tanned but like there is less of
something. It isn’t anger. He has tons of that on his face. He's walking to the
jeep, irate. At first I think it's a mirage but then I realize it isn’t. He's
far too mad to be a mirage.

"What
the hell are you doing here?" His voice is low and growled.

I
look at the driver, "Thanks."

He
looks scared, "That him then?"

I
nod, "Yup."

"Good
luck Miss."

Eli
rips the door open and offers me his hand. I take it and swallow. The touch is
a million times better than I thought it would be but I'm still scared.

He
drags me to the small hotel. He climbs the stairs and produces a key. I'm not
even slightly surprised when he opens the door to my room.

"Corrupt
third world countries." I mutter. He closes the door and presses his back
into it.

I
want to jump on him but I have a slight twinge in my belly.

"What
did I say when I left?"

I
bite my lip.

"I
said don’t go anywhere without your brothers and Stuart and not to leave Chicago
or Boston. Did you misunderstand my words?"

I
step forward on my tiptoes and press my sandy, salty lips against him. He
doesn’t kiss back. I speak into his lips, "You are not the boss of me. If
you can gallivant in South America, then so can I."

He
has me in his arms instantly.

"You
scared me." He whispers.

I
nod, "Ditto."

He
pulls me back, "We are leaving in an hour. I have flights booked."

I
frown, "You're leaving the missionaries?"

He
shakes his head, "Not exactly. We never made it to our last destination.
There is a sickness. All tourists are being sent home unless they have medical
experience. I do not. Pack your bags. We leave as soon as possible."

I
want to pull his clothes off, but the idea of the sand and the dirt is a huge
turn off.

I
kiss his lips once more and pack my stuff.

"I
went to your parents house. I confessed it was me."

He
looks concerned, "They knew that already. Why?"

"I
need absolution from God for my sin."

He
rolls his eyes, "You don’t get to pick and chose how religious you are.
You never go to church. Why need absolution over that? It wasn’t your
fault."

I
grab my stuff and walk to him, "I just needed to."

"Were
they cruel to you?" His eyes are hard.

I
almost flinch, "God no. They were perfectly polite. Hugged me once
even."