Chapter 29
The girl's disappearance unleashed a media circus that complicated my already difficult life. As journalists were quick to point out, it was now the second time in the spam of less than two years that a child had been abducted, and from the heart of their house, no less! That was too much of a coincidence for many. Tragedy turned to conspiracy in the mind of paranoid parents everywhere.
Harry and Marvin might've had nothing to do with the girl's abduction, but to anyone who didn't know better, there was no denying the similarities between our kidnappings. Suddenly, I was making headlines again. My picture was shown alongside the girl's, as if my story had been the opening act of hers. It was ridiculous, yet disturbing. On top of everything else, when my abduction was dragged back in the spotlight, so were my parents.
Most news coverage concentrated on the girl's family, but journalists sought my parents out for interviews and comments as well. Had Harry and Marvin known, they would've waited a few more weeks before letting me watch television unsupervised.
I wasn't looking for my parents. They weren't on my mind. I wasn't watching television and was actually playing with my Talkboy. I had come up with a new game where I would record a few words here and there, mix-in lines from talk shows, commercials or jingles. Pure luck would have me come across my parents while flipping through the channels between Nickelodeon and MTV. Had I been given a choice, I would've preferred not to see them. Too many memories. But I didn't control television programming.
My parents weren't on a standard talk show set; there were no live audience or other guests. It was just them and the host. The three of them were in a cozy, though artificial, sitting room, with a fake fireplace and no window. My parents looked so elegant; my mother, in an off-white dress and matching jacket, my dad in a classic charcoal suit with a red tie. I hadn't seen them in such a long time; they looked like glamorous movie stars, remote and far away.
What did I do upon seeing my parents? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And there was my mistake. As I sat there, staring at the screen without blinking, I couldn't think. Part of me knew I would get in trouble if my captors found me watching my parents' interview, but the shock at seeing them kept me from reacting. It didn't feel real. I watched the interview as I would've watched any other talk show.
"Kevin has been missing for two years-
– Twenty months." my mother interrupted sharply.
Unlike the last time I had seen her on television, my mother didn't look sick and her voice didn't crack with emotion. When she corrected the host, she sounded as self-assured as when she addressed one of her staff.
"Kevin has not been missing for two years. Kevin has been missing for twenty months."
Twenty months? That couldn't be right. Had so little time passed? It seemed as if I had been with Harry and Marvin forever! Twenty months ago, we didn't know each other. Twenty months ago, I had a very different life…
The host tactfully sidestepped her mistake.
"After all this time, many people would've given up, but you haven't. It takes a lot of strength to keep hope alive, and you are hopeful Kevin will be found, aren't you?"
My father, who was sitting next to my mother, took her hand in his.
"Of course we are. Kevin is alive, and we will find him.
– Kevin's story has touched people's heart throughout the country. He has been sighted in many states, including Texas and Utah; have these leads been investigated?"
Texas and Utah? Who the hell had these people seen? I wasn't sure whether to be amused or saddened by how far off the mark everybody was. It was as if we were playing hide-and-seek where winning meant losing.
"Kevin could be anywhere." my father responded. "We take these tips seriously and make sure they are investigated. Every opportunity to put Kevin's picture and story out there is an opportunity to bring him home."
As my father said this, pictures of me appeared in a top corner of the screen. All I could think was that I couldn't believe my parents had included some corny school pictures of me posing in front of a rainbow or laser background. I had always hated picture day. I looked like such a dork, an opinion the host did not share.
"Kevin is such an adorable little boy!" she cooed. "It's hard to take our eyes off him."
Why did everyone keep saying that! First Sid, then Mylène and now this woman! I was not adorable! Babies or toddlers are adorable. What was I, five years old? I fumed in my seat. My parents, however, beamed with pride.
"Kevin has always been a likeable child." my mother agreed. "People take to him. The public has been very generous.
– There are so many people on the lookout for Kevin and reporting what they see. The police is receiving tips all the time. We have good reasons to be hopeful." my father added.
At the mention of the police, the host's tone became more serious.
"Mr. and Mrs. McCallister, it is no secret that the police and you have not always seen eye to eye. When Kevin was first reported missing, you were both brought under question. Could you tell us what is the status of this investigation?"
My mother's smile became stained, and my father is the one who answered smoothly:
"We prefer not to dwell on the past. Finding Kevin is all that matters.
– But you won't deny there was some bad blood between your family and the detectives in charge of the investigation?"
If the host had been hoping for some dirty laundry airing, she was sorely mistaken. My father replied with icy professionalism:
"The police are and will continue to do whatever needs to be done to find Kevin, and so will we. Right now, our focus is on finding our son, and that's where it will stay."
The host didn't linger on this diplomatic, but boring answer, and directed her next question at my mother.
"Mrs. McCallister, I understand that for the past year, you have become very active within the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children community.
– That's right. They have a wonderful team, and have been a great support to our family. Working with them has been an eye-opener."
That was new. My parents had always been too busy with work to participate to our parent-teacher associations. I couldn't picture my mother becoming involved in a charity, club or community.
"I understand you have been advocating for a better-coordinated and united response to missing children cases; What would that entail?"
My mother hardly needed the encouragement; she launched into her explanation as if it were one of her sales pitch meetings.
"As recent news has shown us, our country needs to develop and adopt a national response when it comes to missing children. When a child goes missing, every minute counts. There is no time to draft a plan!"
I listened, but only in mild interest. As in everything she did, my mother sounded confident and well informed, but I didn't care about her new cause. Without meaning to, I was drinking in my mother's features, memorizing the sound of her voice. I didn't care what she said, as long as she kept talking.
"As things are standing today," my mother continued, "police departments are so territorial, they will often hinder ongoing investigations out of misplaced pride. This attitude not only wastes times, but also comes at the expense of children's safety. Children like Kevin. It's unacceptable.
– That is a very-" was the host's response, which my mother ignored.
She had taken control of the interview and it was funny to see the host try to regain her footing.
"Police officers also need better training. They are not equipped to investigate missing children. They cannot and should not investigate a kidnapping the same way they would a bank robbery. Many resources are being ignored or slashed from budgets. We owe it to ourselves and to our children to invest in their safety. So we can protect them and… bring them home."
My mother's last bit of hesitation showed how emotional she was. I'm not sure the host had listened to a word my mother said; she latched on to her next question as soon as my mother finished her sentence.
"Harsh words coming in the wake of another tragedy so similar to your own. Can you tell me what your first thoughts were when you heard of the situation in Tupelo?"
Something told me this wasn't the first time my parents had been asked that question.
"Our thoughts are with that girl's family. My wife and I know exactly what they are going through." My father answered, sounding sincere, though tired.
"It's a nightmare we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy." my mother said in earnest.
Anyone could've spoken those words. They didn't mean anything. What was the host getting at? I mean, what else would my parents say?
"Many have pointed to similarities with Kevin's abduction. Do you agree? Do you think there might be a connection?"
Ah, there it was; the million-dollar question. This is where the host had wanted to take this conversation all along. She leaned forward with bated anticipation. My mother looked troubled, but my father did not.
"I think it would be ill-advised to see connections where there aren't any.
– So you do not believe whoever took that little girl may be connected to Kevin's kidnappers?" the host insisted, almost in disbelief.
It seemed to me she was only digging for sensationalism, which my father denied her.
"If there is one thing I've learned over the past twenty months" he replied firmly "it's that there are far more missing children out there than we would care to know. There is no conspiracy, no one individual to blame for all this pain. I believe there are too many evil people in this world for any of this to be connected."
The host hid her disappointment behind a grave nod.
"And even with such a… bleak outlook, you remain positive that Kevin is safe and sound?
– We'll never give up on Kevin. We will get our son back."
My father was so sure of himself. It should've been reassuring, moving, yet it grated on me. I almost wanted to shout, "liar!" at the screen. Other than that, my feelings as I watched my parents were hard to decipher. Maybe because I wasn't sure how I was supposed to feel. There was no pang of longing, no desire to cry. Overall, I felt very detached, even hearing the smiling host say:
"Mr. and Mrs. McCallister, if you had a message for Kevin, what would it be?"
This time, my mother looked straight at the camera:
"Kevin, your family loves you very, very much. We miss you. Don't forget-"
I'll never know what my mother didn't want me to forget. Remote control in hand, Harry had turned off the television.
"That's enough TV for today."
A rush of fear coursed through me. Harry was not happy. And by that, I mean he was furious! This was no explosive fury where he got it out of his system, but a quiet, much more threatening anger. It was my fault; why had I watched that interview? I knew it would get me in trouble. And I didn't want trouble! I should've turned off the television the moment I had seen my parents on screen.
Harry's eyes had turned cold, almost as cold as the first days of our life together, before we became a family. I didn't like this change. I had to fix this! What could I do? What could I say? There had to be a way for me to prove nothing had changed, that seeing my parents didn't mean anything. As usual, it all came down to one simple word.
Trust.
It was always about trust with Harry.
I had to act, and quickly!
"Harry, you don't have to turn off the TV. I can change the channel if… if my mom and dad…"
Harry's frown kept me from finishing my sentence. I was sure he would snap at me, but he didn't. I had a bad feeling. Anything was better than his silence. To my surprise, Harry turned the television back on. He did not change the channel, but muted the sound.
"Kevin, who are those people?"
The interview was over, but a news presenter was recapping it with images of my parents in the background.
"My… mom and dad."
Wrong answer! Though his anger remained in check, Harry's frown deepened.
"They're the McCallisters, Kevin. And what is your name?
– Kevin Merchants." I replied, desperate to please Harry.
"Exactly. You are not a McCallister, you are a Merchants. We are family. Those people, the McCallisters, no matter what they say, they don't give a shit about you."
I was used to hearing such things from Marvin, but not from Harry. It made his words resonate that much more.
"I know you don't like to hear this" Harry continued, "but they left you, Kevin. They're not your family. Not anymore. Family sticks together, am I right?"
I looked once more at my parents on screen, unsure what to say or think. Dismissing what I had heard in the interview, I concentrated on seeing them for who they were; the ones who were always too busy and never stuck up for me; the ones who had left me and gone to France without me. They were the reason I had to fend for myself, and had been taken by Harry and Marvin. Last Christmas, hadn't they spent the holiday in Florida without a care or thought for me? Would real parents, real family, behave that way? How could I believe what they said anymore?
"Marv and me, we'll always take care of you. Cause we care. And don't I always keep my promises?"
Yes, Harry did keep his promises. Marvin and him were here with me. They took care of me. I willfully ignored the threats, the violence, the fear, the drug and the handcuffs. I had to keep Harry happy. As long as Harry was happy, I would have a family. I would be safe. So sided with him.
"You and Marv, you're my family. I know that."
I didn't speak those words just because that's what Harry needed to hear, but because I wanted them to be true.
"Good. Now who are they?" Harry asked once again.
"The... McCallisters." I made myself repeat.
"Good. Now they'll be no more talk of those people under this roof, am I clear?"
I nodded along. Digging deep into my anger, I added:
"They're just a bunch of jerks."
I had to believe they were. It made it easier. Holding on to the belief that my parents were the bad guys was the only way I could accept Harry and Marvin as my true family.
Some warmth had returned to Harry's eyes, but not entirely. I'm not sure he was convinced by the honesty of my answer. Hell, I'm not sure I was. For our family's sake, I had to convince Harry. Harry was not Marvin; I couldn't butter him up as easily, but he did have a few weaknesses. Turning away from the television, I switched from English to Italian:
"Harry? Can you make timballo del gattopardo for dinner?"
If anything, my request managed to redirect Harry's attention.
"A macaroni pie? Do you know how long it takes to make?"
I knew exactly how long; including the pastry dough, which Harry always insisted on making instead of using the frozen one sold at the grocery story, it took him nearly three hours to make this savory dish.
"Please? I like it."
And I wasn't just saying that to flatter Harry. This pie was finger-licking good! We all loved it, including Marvin who would clear his plate although bits of ham were visible in the filling. Harry took great pride in this recipe, which I understood had been passed down from his great-grandmother.
"You said you'd show me how to make one."
Harry was watching me closely and I had to will myself not to steal a glance at the television screen. The tension in the room was palpable, but I pretended not to notice. Had I been less subtle, I would've held my breath, but I was smart enough to act as if everything was fine. I made myself breathe normally through my tightened throat.
"I'll go to the store to pick up some ingredients." Harry finally agreed.
Crisis averted! As soon as Harry agreed to bake the pie, I knew I was out of the woods. I relaxed, feeling tired. Our face-off had left me exhausted. I had done the right thing, I thought, ignoring the twinge of guilt that was nagging me. Harry might remain on his guard, but he had seemed satisfied enough with my reaction not to encroach on any of my privileges. I would not be punished.
Just to be on the safe side, I turned off the television, shutting the image of my parents out of my life. They couldn't help me. They could only make trouble for me. And I needed Harry and Marvin in a good mood. The last time I had been on the news, we had disappeared off to Canada. I didn't want to move again.
That's when my eyes fell on the Talkboy in my lap. The record button was pressed down and the tape was still rolling. Had it recorded… everything? I quickly turned it off. I had to get rid of that tape. Should Harry or Marvin find it... I got cold sweat; this time, I wouldn't get off so easy! I made sure Harry wasn't around and rewound the cassette. I would tape over its content, and all would be fine. It was a quick fix. All I had to do was press record and it would all go away. I wouldn't get in trouble and could forget about the whole thing.
My finger hovered over the record button.
Your family loves you very, very much.
I couldn't press it.
I knew it was the right thing to do, the safe thing to do, but I couldn't press that button. I didn't want to acknowledge why I couldn't erase the voices of my parents. So I took the tape out of the Talkboy and shoved it under my mattress. I then did my best to forget it.
I had to forget!
I couldn't let the memory of my parents confuse everything. There was a lot on the line, starting with my peace of mind. Halloween was also approaching fast. I had not forgotten Marvin's promise to take me trick-or-treating. I didn't want to mess this up by brooding or crying my head off about my parents.
It might sound as if I had disowned my family for nothing more than a night of fun, and in a way, I suppose I did. In my defence, Halloween meant the world to me. And by that, I wasn't just thinking about candy. The promise of Halloween had become a symbol. I would be allowed to play and mingle, just as any other kid would. Marvin and I would have a great time, just as a real family would.
I was aware that Harry and Marvin were still jumpy over the girl's kidnapping, but I expected that by Halloween everything would be back to normal. Until then, I made sure to be on my best behaviour. I took care of my chores, and even volunteered for new ones. I practised my piano and whenever Harry showed interest in a song, I made special efforts to master it. Most of all, I avoided any mention of my birth family. I had feared that seeing them on television would trigger my nightmares, but for once, my subconscious cooperated and my sleep was untroubled.
Days passed. My strategy seemed to work. Although the girl had not been found, she was no longer front-page news. I could feel Harry and Marvin's relief as our home life slowly returned to normal. And not a day too soon; we were already at the end of September and there was my costume to consider. I didn't want some lame last-minute costume. If worse came to worse, I was willing to put a sheet over my head and go as a ghost, but I hoped Marvin would be more creative than that.
I also had realistic expectations; Marvin wouldn't put too much money into my costume, and unlike my mother, he was no seamstress, so I wasn't going to be difficult. But that was okay, I had it all figured out. I had decided that I would go as the T-800 from Terminator. I had given it a lot of thought and had put part of the costume together. I had black jeans and t-shirt in my wardrobe and, thanks to Marvin, a nice pair of shades to match the look. As for the T-800's arsenal, I figured it was nothing plastic guns and a coat of black spray paint couldn't replace. I didn't have a leather jacket, or boots, but I was sure we could work around that. Marvin would love it!
As soon as I told him…
I just had to be patient.
On the night Marvin's promise came up, my mind had not been on trick-or-treating. My goal had been to best Harry at a game of sleight of hands. Those didn't bother Harry anymore. We had come up with an understanding; Marvin would teach me, and when he thought I was up to it, I would test my skills on Harry. He didn't usually use his real wallet, but would carry an empty one around the house so that I could practise whenever I felt like it. If I could get a hold of the wallet without Harry noticing, I won the game. I didn't win often.
Sneaking up on Harry wasn't easy. While Marvin had fallen a few times for the old "oh, look; a spider!" trick, Harry wasn't that big a fool. It took a lot more to distract him.
After repeated failures, I had been surprised when Marvin offered to help.
"Isn't that cheating?
– Nah! Some tricks work best as a team work effort." he informed me, grinning.
The two of us, ganging on Harry? He'd never see it coming! And with Marvin on my side, I knew Harry wouldn't get angry. That settled it. Let the fun begin!
Marvin didn't tell me what he would do and waited until after dinner to wink at me, our agreed upon signal. I was ready and nodded back, watching him set his trap in motion.
"Hey Harry, what did you do with the IRA letter?
– What letter?
– The letter. You know, the one that said something about restricting business expenses for small businesses."
Marvin knew his partner well. That's all he had to say to have Harry's full attention as he launched into a rant about the Internal Revenue Agency. I repressed a smile. Good one.
As planned with Marvin, I had been drying the dishes and putting them away, which gave me an innocent reason to walk around Harry without raising his suspicions. While putting away some dishes on the shelf under the rolling island, I located Harry's wallet in his back pocket. Part of it was even sticking out, practically an invitation! As I walked away, I chose my angle with care and slide out the wallet, only to be met with resistance.
The tug alerted Harry who interrupted his rant and swiftly pulled me back. Unlike the first time he had caught me, there was no outrage or anger in his eyes. I might even go as far as to say there was a spark of amusement.
"Too slow, kid. You lose, again." he taunted me.
"You didn't get it? What happened?" Marvin asked, sounding as disappointed as I was.
My error reflected poorly on his teaching methods.
"So it's two against one, now?" Harry chuckled. "Sorry, kid; you'll have to get up pretty early in the morning to beat me."
I was furious with myself. This should've worked! I had never had any trouble sliding a wallet out of Marvin's pocket. I didn't understand what I had gone wrong. No, I knew I had done everything right, the timing, the angle, everything!
"Your wallet got stuck. How come it got stuck?" I asked, suspicious.
As an answer, Harry threw his wallet over. It had a rubber band wrapped around it, making near impossible to slide it out of his pocket. It was my turn to be outraged by this dirty trick.
"No fair, that's cheating!
– I'm not cheating. This, right here, is a lesson, kid; know when to call it quits. I'm not the only one who walks around with a rubber band around his cash."
"Cut the kid some slack, Harry. You know he's good.
– Not good enough for the old neighbourhood. They'd break his arm for trying something like that.
– Well, he's not in the old neighbourhood, is he? None of us are. And even if we were, the kid wouldn't be alone; we'd have his back." Marvin stood up for me.
This latest statement caught my interest. With this talk of taking me out and having my back, it sounded like a time as good as any to bring up Halloween.
"Marv, Halloween is coming up.
– I know! And it's a Friday! You know what that means?"
I lit up; Marvin did remember!
"Horror movie marathon!" Marvin announced proudly.
That announcement sobered me up. I had nothing against a horror movie marathon, but after trick-or-treating.
"I thought we said no more horror movies." Harry remarked.
"Oh, come on, Harry, it's Halloween, a little horror movie never hurt nobody.
– Should I remind you that the kid is still sleeping with the lights on?"
That wasn't the result of any horror movie, I wanted to remind him, but held my tongue. I had more important issues to argue; namely, trick-or-treating.
"I was thinking werewolves. I'm sure the kid can handle The Howling or An American Werewolf in London. That's practically a comedy. What do you say, kid? Are you up for some werewolf fun?
– Sure." I told him before steering the conversion back on track. "But about my costume, I was thinking-
– Costume?" Harry interrupted me. "Forget it, kid; we're not taking you trick-or-treating."
I didn't let Harry's tone deter me. This was between Marvin and me.
"I know you're not taking me, Harry. Marv is. He said he would.
– What?" snapped Harry at his partner.
I waited for Marvin to remember his promise, confident he would tell Harry I'd be going trick-or-treating. Marvin had after all given me his word. He, however, looked as surprised by this news as Harry.
"You told the kid you'd take him trick-or-treating? Since when!
– I never said I'd take him trick-or-treating!" Marvin blurred in response.
"Yes, you did; you said so last year! Last year, you promised we'd stay out as long as I wanted if I behaved, remember?"
And remember he did. I saw it in the way Marvin suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. Marvin was not the only one who remembered our previous Halloween; Harry had apparently not forgotten the never-spoken episode from which he had been excluded.
"Really? Is that what happened last year? And when were you going to tell me about this arrangement?
– It's not what it sounds like, Harry. I wasn't-
As I watched Marvin fumbling for his words, trying to justify himself to Harry, I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach. I realized that Marvin had never intended to take me trick-or-treating. I knew it, maybe I had always known.
"Abba; You said you'd take me." I insisted, in denial.
– Yeah, hmm, okay, listen kid… About that…"
– You said you'd take me. You promised!
– I know, but… That was back in Canada. This isn't a good time."
Because of the girl? Or because there would never be a good time?
"But… I behaved.
– I know you did. We can still have fun. We'll rent movies and… hum… A scavenger hunt! We can have a scavenger hunt. We'll make a night out of it!"
Marvin kept talking, but his words didn't register. Marvin had lied. He wouldn't take me trick-or-treating. He would never take me trick-or-treating. He was nothing but a liar! The accusation kept spinning in my mind, disappointment giving way to anger. And there was Marvin, still talking. Grinning like an idiot. Trying to me make me believe we were pals.
"I'll get you candy. Lots of candy! We'll have fun, okay? I promise!"
How dare him!
"Liar!" I shouted back.
Marvin had to galls to look insulted, which only fuelled my anger.
"Come on, kid; don't be like that. It's not the end of the world."
But it was. I had waited a whole year for this, and now my world was crumbling around me. A world built on his lie.
"You lied! You said you'd take me, but you're just a liar!"
Marvin reddened. If there's one thing he hates, it's being called out on his lies. That never kept him from lying, but he doesn't like being called a liar to his face.
"Hey! I am not a liar! I said I'd bring you candy, so quit bitching about it!"
As if candy could make up for his lies!
"I don't want candy! I hope you choke on it, you fucking liar!"
I crossed the line.
I shouldn't have crossed the line.
During my shouting match with Marvin, I had not been paying attention to Harry. He hadn't said a word in my defence, not that I expected him to, but I had seen his accusatory glare set on Marvin. Harry didn't say it, but it was clear he held him responsible for this outburst.
But I shouldn't have crossed the line.
No sooner had the words left my lips that his fist sent me flying against the rolling island behind me, knocking the plates I had just put away to the floor with me. Over the crash of broken china came Marvin's cry of shock:
"Jesus fucking Christ, Harry!
– Stay out of it, Marv!"
Even then, I didn't realize Harry had punched me. For a second, I lay there, my ears ringing. I hadn't expected this violent reaction. There had been no warning, no word, or sign. I blinked a few times, my vision blurry and unfocused.
I then raised my eye to see Harry towering over me, his fist clenched. It all clicked together. As if my brain had been waiting for this revelation, the pain kicked in. It radiated from my cheekbone to the back of my head and down my neck.
"How many times have I told you; don't ever talk back to us."
Harry didn't scream; he didn't have to. Each of his words was filled with menace.
I didn't answer and stared at him in disbelief. Harry had punched me. I had not been angry with Harry. Harry hadn't lied. Harry never lied. Marvin did. But Harry had punched me. Why would he do that? I hadn't done anything! Marvin was the bad guy, not me! He's the one who had lied. So why was I the one on the ground, nursing a black eye?
Harry's betrayal cut deep. I couldn't believe the unfairness of it all. I was too young to see that right and wrong, truth, lies, none of it mattered with these two. This wasn't about fairness; It was and always would be them against me. Plain and simple.
I was brought back to my senses by Harry's next words:
"Now you're going to get up, apologize to Marv and clean up this mess!" he demanded.
Apologies? He wanted me to apologies? That was too much! I jumped to my feet, tears of anger and pain blinding me.
"I hate you!" I screamed, fleeing to the basement.
"Kevin, come back here right now!" Harry roared after me, but I didn't look back.
I believe I heard Marvin telling him to let me go, which might be why Harry didn't pursue me downstairs. His intervention might've saved me from a harsher punishment at Harry's hand, but that didn't make me like him any better.
I climbed in my mezzanine hangout and sat all the way back against the wall, shaking. I didn't cry. I wouldn't let myself cry. Crying hurt. Everything hurt. Besides, I was too angry to cry.
Some tears rolled down my cheek and I wiped them away. Damn, even my hand hurt! I looked down and saw there was a nasty gash in my hand that was gushing blood. I must've cut myself on a shard of broken plate. As there was no way I would go upstairs and beg for a Band-Aid, I tied a sock around my hand.
I sat there for a long time, without moving, deep in thought. I replayed the events of the evening in my mind, wondering where it had gone wrong. It had started out so well; how could everything derail so quickly?
I remembered Marvin's playfulness. Our complicity followed by his duplicity. Harry, whose patience had turned to violence on a dime, I looked it all over. Not trying to understand, but taking it all in. That was my family. That was my life. Violent and unfair. A life that wasn't mine not so long ago. Twenty months ago, I had a very different life… I didn't want to think anymore. Why was everything so confused?
Whispers, voices I had banned from my memories resurfaced. Words I had worked so hard to forget, to deny I had heard.
Your family loves you very, very much.
We'll never give up on Kevin.
We miss you.
I reached under my mattress. The tape was still there. I didn't put it in the Talkboy; now was not the time for Harry or Marvin to catch me with this recording. I left it where it was, but this time, I no longer tried to forget its existence.
Later, much later, Marvin came to find me. I wasn't sure who I was most angry with, him or Harry.
"Listen, kid…
– Go away!" I snapped back, not looking at him.
Marvin didn't insist.
"I brought you some ice. It'll help with the swelling."
He hung around a while longer, either not knowing what to say, or hoping I would break the silence. When it became clear I wasn't going to, Marvin left, locking the basement door behind him. After making sure he wouldn't come back, I retrieved the ice bag. The cold eased the pain, but it couldn't do anything for my anger.
That night is another one I'll never forget. I went through so many scenarios in my mind, none of them pretty. Slowly, my anger drained away. Where would anger lead me, besides more pain? Anger was not the answer.
I also had plenty of time to come to term with the reality of my situation, namely that hiding away in the basement was not an option. Harry and Marvin weren't going anywhere. They were here, with me. No one else was. I needed them. And most of the time, we got along. Most of the time, anyway…
By the time the sun rose, and I heard Harry move upstairs, I knew what I had to do. There was no way around it. I waited until I was sure Marvin was up as well before leaving the basement. If I had to do this, I would only do it once.
I found Harry and Marvin in the kitchen, almost as I had left them the previous evening. Harry was the first to see me, and he nudged his partner who had his back turned to me. Marvin's tentative smile froze upon discovering me. He glanced at Harry with worry, but his partner didn't say a word, staring down at me.
"Hey, kid." Marvin welcomed me with concern in his voice.
I didn't let him say another word.
"I'm sorry."
Marvin seemed taken aback, while Harry's face remained set. Taking a deep breath, I made myself say the words I had been rehearsing since dawn:
"I shouldn't have screamed at you, Abba. And… you're not a liar; you were just trying to protect me. I'm sorry; I didn't mean what I said."
I could tell by Marvin's relieved expression that he was willing to bury the hatchet. Harry wasn't so easy to win over and appeared unmoved by my words. I had expected this. Nothing was easy with Harry. I licked my lips nervously before continuing:
"I'm sorry I talked back to you. And I'm sorry about the plates. That was my fault."
I dug into my pocket and took out the money I had saved with my allowance. I handed it to Harry.
"For new plates." I mumbled.
My offer sealed the deal for Marvin.
"Don't worry about some stupid old plates, kid." he replied gently.
Harry, however, didn't offer to give me the money back, nor did he acknowledge my apology. After a pause, he instead asked:
"Why did you tie a sock around your hand?"
My hand didn't hurt that much anymore, but some blood had soaked through the sock.
"Cut myself when… when I fell.
– Let me take a look at that."
Harry led me in the bathroom and ran my hand under warm water before untying the sock. By reflex, turned away from my wound only to catch sight of my reflection in the mirror over the sink. Nearly half of the left side of my face was swallowed by an ugly swell. My eye was reduced to a painful slit, around which the skin had begun to turn black.
I looked away.
Harry cleaned my hand and examined the flesh around my wound.
"Looks like it's not too deep; you won't need stitches." he informed me. "But if you cut yourself like that again, you tell us. Don't tie a sock over it. Socks are dirty."
I should've been relieved not to see him take out his needle, but I didn't feel anything. I barely flinched when he dabbed my cut with disinfectant.
"There. As good as new." Harry said, as he wrapped a bandage around my hand. "Give the piano a break for a few days. You want this to heal, understand?
– Yeah; I'll be careful." I dutifully responded.
Once he had dressed my wound, I expected Harry to be done, but he then sighed:
"What am I going to do with you?"
I fidgeted without knowing how to answer. But Harry didn't seem to expect one as he then lifted my chin to have a better look at my blackened face.
"Open your eye; let me see."
It wasn't easily with my swollen eyelid, but I did my best.
"Can you move your eye at all?
– I think so…"
After a minute or so, Harry seemed satisfied with his examination and he let me go.
"You'll be all right." he said. "But no more sass.
– I won't; I'm sorry."
Harry seemed to expect something more, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I wish I couldn't read Harry's mind as he considered me. When he finally spoke, all he said was:
"Don't let it happen again."
We returned to the kitchen to find Marvin in full cooking mode.
"I'm making eggs. You want some eggs, kid?
– Scrambled eggs?
– You got it."
Marvin smiled at me, and I shyly smiled back.
"How your hand?
– Harry said I don't need stitches.
– Good. That's good." he said, beating the eggs.
There would be no apology, but I supposed that was Marvin's way of mending bridges. We then sat down for breakfast. There wasn't much talking. I buttered a piece of toast and had half a banana. The sight of food turned my stomach, but I made myself eat. I wasn't angry anymore. Anger was useless. After that night, I saw clearly.
Fuck their family.
I was getting out of there and this time, they wouldn't stop me.
AN:
I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Finally! We're here! The turning point for this story! I worked hard to get here, and I am happy to report that things should get interesting for our trio.
The interview questions and some answers were based on interviews I found of parents of missing children.
If you think the host portrayed in my story was rude or pushy, it's nothing next to the questions I have heard reporters ask parents. Seriously, who would ask a grieving parent, "How does it feel to know your child is probably dead?" or "The police thinks you killed your child. Did you hide his/her body?" I was horrified as I watched those interviews, and had to tone it down for my story.
The issues raised by Kate regarding the mishandling of missing children by the police force are based on the ones listed in Robert L. Snow's book "Child Abduction, Prevention, Investigation and Recovery". The author is a retired police captain from the Indianapolis police department. His book was published in 2008, and he admitted that his criticisms have been repeated for decades without much improvement. They should therefore be just as relevant in 1992.