The Other

Chapter 8

"Hellooo!" a man's voice startles both women.

Ted Roche is home, throwing off his cap and coat.

He looks slightly older than his wife as his brown hair is thinning on top. His face has the same lines as hers, born of the same experiences. His face is thin but comparing him to past photographs, his face used to be more fleshed out. The same can be said for his body, his uniform probably used to fit him better. He has wide shoulders but they slump, tired after long hours at work.

In spite of his weariness, he has a smile ready for his family.

But then he spots Todd, a stranger in his house.

Puzzled, he looks to his wife for answers.

"Hey, what's going on here? Who's this?"

Marjorie hastens over to kiss his cheek,

"Ted, this is Todd Roche," she says, looking uneasy, "Her family own the Roche Chemical Company."

Ted's face hardens immediately.

"What is she doing here?" he says, his voice just as hard, already knowing.

"She came here to talk... about Blair."

"What the hell for?" Ted snaps, both women wince, he whirls on Todd demanding the answer be from her.

Todd shrinks under his angry gaze.

"Mr Roche, I came here to pay my respects to your family," she manages to get out.

Ted eyes her in disbelief for a second, before laughing bitterly.

"Pay respects? Is that some kind of joke?"

"Ted!" his wife says in a pleading voice, "She doesn't know about that. She only just found out about Blair."

This is the reaction she was afraid of. She had hoped to get the girl to leave before he came home, sparing both the confrontation that was about to take place.

Ted ignores her, his attention on Todd. This girl came to his home and he is damn well going to let her in on some home truths.

"Margie wrote to your family when it happened ten years ago. Sent a letter to the company's head office. We didn't have the money and we were desperate. We thought your family might have helped us. Waited. No reply. Nothing! Even if the letter wasn't passed on, it was all over the news. Your family would have seen my little girl's photograph. They would have seen it! Your family chose to not care. It wasn't their kid being held hostage."

Todd absorbs his words with awful realisation. Marjorie Roche has lied to her. Her family is culpable, in a worse way than she thought.

"I didn't know" she says quietly, helplessly, "I'm sorry."

The words are out of her mouth before she realises this is the wrong thing to say.

"Sorry?" Ted explodes, "You're sorry. Do you think that means anything to me? To my wife? Do you think sorry is some magic wand? Have you come with a cheque? It's a little too late for that now."

Tears are pouring down Todd's face. Her guilt and his vehemence have opened the flood-gates. She is ashamed to cry in front of him. Her tears are as worthless to him as her apology.

"Ted!" Marjorie hisses with disapproval, placing herself between them, "You're being unfair. This isn't her fault. She would have been a girl when it happened. You need to calm down."

Her words are unnecessary. Ted's face has already softened, looking uncomfortable at his handiwork.

He hates to see women cry, especially his wife. How she cried when it happened ten years ago, the impotence of seeing the woman he loved in such agony, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Nothing they could do but hold each other and cry and wait for news.

They cry less now but when they do, they cry separately, not wanting to cause the other any upset. But Ted can tell. He will get home from work some days and see it in his wife's eyes, even though she has reapplied her make-up.

"What's going on?" Cheryl appears on the scene, "What are you guys yelling about? Dad?"

Marjorie gives Ted a sharp look, but he is already looking guilty.

"Nothing sweetheart," he says soothingly, "Don't you worry."

"I should really go," Todd says, she has caused this family enough trouble.

All three Roche members turn to look at her. There is no disagreement from husband and wife. They know it is best that she does.

"What's going on?" Cheryl persists.

There is definitely a connection between her dad yelling and this woman crying. She wants to know what happened. She had her door closed, so everything she heard was muffled and incoherent. Now the woman is leaving.

Marjorie turns to her husband,

"Ted, its night time, it's not safe out there. We'll need to call her a taxi."

Ted nods,

"Ring for the cab. I'll wait outside with her."

The prospective of being alone with Ted Roche is not particularly appealing to Todd. She is afraid of him taking the opportunity to lash out at her again. A concern shared by Marjorie.

"Ted..." she says warningly as her husband is heading for the door.

"It's not safe," he replies, "Just call the cab. I'll be back soon."

Todd follows him, stopping in the doorway to turn back and say,

"Goodnight Miss Roche, Cheryl."

"Goodnight," says Miss Roche sadly, her eyes meet hers briefly before lapsing downward.

"Is anyone listening to me?" Cheryl's voice is last thing Todd hears as Ted shuts the door behind them.

...

Ted and Todd stand in heavy silence on the front steps.

Todd's cheeks are stained with mascara tracks. She rubs at her face with her sleeve, trying to make herself more presentable.

"Geez, don't do that," Ted says roughly, startling her, "Shirt probably cost my week's wages. Here."

He produces a handkerchief from his shirt pocket, pressing it into her hands.

The kindness of the gesture takes her aback. New tears spill forth.

"Thank you," she mumbles, burying her face in it.

Ted sighs, fumbling for his cigarettes.

"Don't mention it," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth as he goes to light it.

He takes a deep draw. Another sigh as he exhales.

"God, I haven't blown off steam like that in a while," he says, more surprised than apologetic, "It builds up you know."

He takes another draw.

"My family has been through a lot, Miss Roche," he says, his previous rage now replaced by contemplative sadness, "I don't want the past dragged up. It's too painful for Margie. She isn't as strong as she acts. Even if you meant well, you shouldn't have come here."

Todd lowers the handkerchief to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she says for what seems to her to be the millionth time. But it's all she can seem to say, even though it's not good enough.

Ted flicks ash.

"Yeah I got that," he says with a spark of impatience, "Look, you wanna make peace with my daughter? Go to the Linden Hill Cemetery, visit her grave. We didn't have no...," his voice falters, "body to bury. We couldn't bury our little girl but we got her a plot. She deserved that at least."

He takes a steadying draw, trying to hold the tears at bay. He doesn't want to appear vulnerable.

He is the father, the one who is supposed to keep it together.

"Go there and lay some flowers, she liked roses. Do that, but don't bother my family again."

No room for negotiation in his voice.

"Do you understand?"

He wants her word.

Todd bobs her head in acquiescence.

"I understand."

Ted extinguishes his cigarette under his heel, nodding.

"Good," he says, glancing up at a set of approaching headlights "Looks like your cab. Goodbye Miss Roche."

There is no friendliness in his farewell, only finality. Weariness.

"Goodbye."

She offers back the damp handkerchief, smeared with mascara.

Ted shakes his head,

"Keep it."

He walks away, returning to the family he is committed to protecting.

Todd keeps the handkerchief close on the cab ride home. A memento of a disastrous night.

Instead of closure, meeting the Roche's has lead to another door of guilt being opened.

Todd wishes that Rorschach had never paid her that visit. She wishes she had never learnt the circumstances of a little girl murdered ten years ago. But as is the case with Blair Roche's death, the past cannot be changed.

She can only focus on present and hope to redeem herself (and her family) by her own standards.

She will start by putting roses on Blair Roche's empty grave.

To be continued...