The Keeper of Lost Things

by Jamie Campbell

  “What are we doing at the tip shop?”

  “I’m going to see Mr. Adison because he says he has something that I should see. You’re not coming with me, Frankie. I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

  He waved away my comments like they were nothing. “What’s the point of living if not to get up to mischief with you?”

  “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?”

  “Absolutely none.”

  I guessed the decision was made then. We started walking in the opposite direction of school. “I can’t guarantee you won’t get into trouble for skipping. Principal Moore already knows you’re an associate of mine.”

  “I am proud to be your associate, Em.” Frankie puffed out his chest like he was a parading gorilla and made me laugh. No matter how miserable I was determined to be, he always did something to make sure that didn’t happen.

  Frankie was going to save my life.

  It was terrifying how easily he had come to mean so much to me. If I didn’t have him now… I don’t know what would have happened to me. He was keeping me sane in a very crazy situation.

  And I loved him for it.

  It was so very difficult to admit that to myself.

  Let alone anyone else.

  When Frankie asked me what happened when I told Uncle Marvin about the fish situation, I told him a vanilla form of the truth. He didn’t have to know how shaken I was by his reaction. He shouldn’t worry any more than he always did.

  We arrived at the tip shop and found Mr. Adison in his usual place by the front of the store. He grinned a largely toothless grin when he saw me. “Em! I’m glad you’re here, but you really should be in school. Did you get my message?”

  “I did. You said you had something I needed to see,” I replied. His eager gaze travelled to Frankie who gave him an awkward wave. “This is my friend Frankie. He’s fine to speak freely in front of.”

  Because, in our life pursuit, sometimes you had to hide your crazy.

  Frankie stepped forward and held out his hand for Mr. Adison to shake. He took it eagerly. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. Em has told me great things about you.”

  Mr. Adison laughed. “I’m sure she did. Our Em here likes to tell all kinds of tales. Much like me. But this news is real, Em. Come with me.”

  We followed his direction and headed toward his back office. The cynical part of me–which, by now, you should know is quite a big part of me–expected him to have another dancing pug for me to see. But I knew the Keeper of Discarded Things wouldn’t have texted me without a good reason.

  He lifted a large box from the top of a shelf, swayed a little with the weight, and then placed it on a crowded table in the middle of the room. He had to move a few things before all of it could settle on the table without teetering on other items.

  “I was out on the tip site yesterday and found a suitcase. The hipsters love suitcases, they use them for decorations, you see.” He paused, making sure we did indeed see. “So I opened it up to leave the contents, because normally it’s just real rubbish, and then I saw a book. Who doesn’t like a book, I asked myself. So I grabbed it, opened the cover, and then saw the name Marshall Gabrielle written inside. The name sounded familiar and I thought of you. Then I thought I saw your dad’s name on the news the other night. That’s when I sent you that message.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I said, trying not to get dizzy from the whole story.

  “Everything in that suitcase is in this box. You can take it all if you like. But have a look while I go serve this customer. The suitcase is that one over there.” He pointed to a single grey suitcase on the shelf. “Call me if you need me, Em. You know you only have to holler.”

  I thanked him before he shuffled out to deal with a guy looking at some tools in the shop. My whole body was frozen for a moment before I could bear to look in the box.

  “It could be nothing,” I said, trying to make it seem like this wasn’t a big deal. Sure, these items might have belonged to my dad, but so what? They were just more items he lost, threw away like they meant nothing.

  I knew how that felt.

  “Are you alright?” Frankie asked. “I can look for you, if you want.”

  I took a deep breath. “No, this is my problem. I’ll be okay. It’s just lost things, I know how to deal with those.”

  And I did.

  Because that was my thing.

  This shouldn’t have been any different. My father meant nothing to me, he hadn’t since he turned his back on my tear-streaked face and walked away.

  At least that’s what I told myself.

  I dived into the box before I hesitated any longer. I wouldn’t allow anyone to see how much it affected me. Not even Frankie. This emotion was mine and mine alone.

  The contents of the box:

  One men’s shirt.

  One library card to the Lakeside Community Library belonging to Marshall Gabrielle.

  One book–The Time Seeker’s Adventure–with my father’s name inside as Mr. Adison described.

  Two used tissues.

  A coin purse with various membership cards inside–all printed with the name Marshall Gabrielle.

  A sweater vest in several shades of brown.

  A blanket with several holes worn into it.

  A creased photograph of my father with Samantha and April, taken a few years ago by the looks of it.

  It was like he had discarded all the things he wouldn’t need anymore. Like he had chosen to start afresh with a new life and he wouldn’t have a use for these items anymore.

  “Em? You okay?” Frankie prompted. We had both been so quiet, so still in the office.

  Was I okay?

  That was still up for debate.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “It seems these do belong to my father. They’re just his clothes and cards, plus the book.”

  “I wonder how they ended up at the dump.”

  “Me too.” Although I did have a vague idea forming. If he wanted to disappear, he could have easily dumped the things he no longer needed into the nearest trash can.

  And then run away.

  Making sure he would be lost forever.

  “Em? You sure you’re okay? We can go.” Frankie’s concerned voice broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to the here and now and not imagining my father lying on a beach and making a new life for himself someplace else.

  I shook my head, trying to push all those thoughts away. They weren’t helping anyone. “I think I should keep these things. Or maybe I should give them to Samantha. What do you think?”

  “Maybe we should tell the police.”

  “No!” I answered too quickly. “I mean, they probably won’t care. It’s not like they mean anything or provide some clues about what happened to him.”

  Really, if the police had these items, they would stop searching for him. They would go through the same thought process I had and conclude he disposed of them intentionally.

  Even I was considering stopping the search, but the police should still keep going. They were experts, they had more resources than me, they stood a much better chance of finding Marshall Gabrielle than I did.

  Even if he didn’t want to be found.

  “What’s on your mind, Em? There’s a lot going on in there and I’m worried,” Frankie said. His blue eyes were clouded with concern as he stood so still watching me.

  He really was a beautiful boy.

  Even when he was sad.

  He didn’t need to be left in the dark right now. “I’m thinking he might have ditched these things on purpose so he could run away and make a clean break. His wallet was found in the burned down house, and now these are the rest of his personal items. He doesn’t have any of them now.”

  “Do you really think he would do that to his wife and child?”

  I shrugged with just one shoulder, it was all I had the energy for. Thinking anything about my father completely drained me, like all the appliances on in the house all at onc
e. “He did it to me.” My voice was so small and fragile, I hated hearing it like that. There was only one person in the world that could do that to me.

  Of course he could do it to someone else too.

  Frankie let out a breath he was holding and then shifted to perch on the edge of the table. His arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the window pensively.

  I closed the box and sat beside him, so close our shoulders touched. “When I was talking with April the other day I thought she was talking about some other man. He was such a great dad to her that I thought for sure he must have changed. That sometime in the last ten years something must have happened to him so that he wouldn’t think about leaving his daughter again.”

  “It must have been horrible when he left you.”

  My head nodded because right then I couldn’t speak as the memory threatened to choke me. I didn’t want to cry in front of Frankie but it was difficult not to when I remembered that moment. I had worn it as armor for so long that it was starting to wear out.

  “He never explained why?” Frankie asked. He was still looking out the window, except this time it was to give me some privacy. He knew I wouldn’t want him to see me cry.

  “I never heard from him again,” I said. “Uncle Marvin wouldn’t talk about it. When I asked him when Dad was coming home he would just tell me he wasn’t and I had to forget about the idiot. I eventually took his advice.”

  “That’s harsh. I mean, how old were you? Six?”

  I wiped away at my wet eyes and sniffled. It was time I replaced my armor and remember that that moment so long ago made me stronger. And I needed to be strong right now.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway,” I said, standing. “If he doesn’t want to be found then he never will be. He managed to hide in the same city as me for ten years.”

  Frankie stood too, stepping closer and taking my shaking hands in his. “What does your gut tell you, Em? Do you really think you should give up on him?”

  It was difficult looking into Frankie’s kind blue eyes and remembering there were bad people in the world. He was so innocent and sincere. I was changing him, turning him into someone who saw all the monsters in the world like I did.

  But what did my gut tell me about my father?

  I hated him, that was a given.

  More than that, I kept remembering how April’s whole face had lit up when she spoke about her dad. She loved him to bits and she made it sound like she was his whole world.

  If I hadn’t shared lunch with her yesterday, my answer would have been different. But it was too difficult for an eight-year-old to lie believingly.

  April was loved by her dad.

  “He didn’t leave on purpose,” I finally replied. With the words out of my mouth, they were free. More surprisingly than anything else was the fact I actually believed them. Still, I could have been wrong. “At least, I don’t think so. But he could have us all fooled.”

  “That’s good enough for me. We have to keep looking.”

  “You should go to school. I’m going to go home and think about things,” I lied. My fingers crossed in the hope he would believe me and do as I said.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” Frankie insisted.

  “I’m okay, really. I just need some time to think.”

  He still didn’t believe me.

  We both knew it.

  However, Frankie still carried the box all the way from the tip shop for me. He hauled it all the way home and then up the stairs to the attic where he placed it on a shelf.

  He then left me for some time to think.

  I waited for him to turn the corner at the end of the street before I left the house again. There was no way I was going to sit around and brood all day. Somewhere out there was my father and it was about time someone found him.

  There was only one person I knew that could potentially have answers for my questions. Statistics told me it was the spouse that knew the most about their partner’s disappearance.

  Samantha was on my hit list.

  I rode the bus with my head churning over the questions I would throw at her. The time for covertly following her and trying to extract information was over. Today was a day for action and I was going to take it with both hands.

  Her minivan was in the driveway, a good sign that she was home. If not, I would sit on her stoop and wait for her arrival. Nothing was going to sway me from the cause today.

  I banged on the door and waited. My heart was thrumming like a drum, beating its way out of my chest and lodging itself in my throat where it was going to choke me.

  I needed to find my dad.

  I needed answers.

  Maybe I was going about it the wrong way but I was desperate. There was no point in continuing on with all my leads that only took me to dead ends when she might have information.

  Surely someone had to know something.

  It angered me to think that I even cared about my father. More than anything I wanted to be immune to any emotions his image conjured up. I wanted to be numb, to feel nothing. He didn’t deserve my worry or tears.

  He didn’t deserve them.

  He really didn’t.

  The door swung open and Samantha’s mouth dropped in surprise at seeing my figure there. “Em, I wasn’t expecting you. Come in. Is everything okay?”

  Why did people keep asking me that?

  Everything was not okay.

  “I need to speak with you,” I said as I followed her into the living room. She tried to offer me something to eat or drink but I refused. This wasn’t a social call. I didn’t even sit down. “I need to know what you know about my father’s disappearance.”

  “What do you mean, honey?” Her brow might have wrinkled in confusion but she didn’t fool me. Nobody did. You couldn’t lie to a liar.

  “Did you help him disappear? Were you in on it? Do you know where he is?”

  “Honey, no. I’m just as upset about this as you are. What’s happened?”

  “Don’t lie to me. Tell me where he is.” My traitorous voice was giving me away. I didn’t want her to know how upset I was. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was unravelling like a tightly coiled spring.

  “Em, sweetie, I don’t know. Tell me what’s happened, why you’re so upset.”

  “I just need to find him. I need to know why…”

  “Why, what?”

  “Why…”

  “Why?”

  “Why he left me,” I said. I had been trying so hard to keep it inside but those four words were ripped from me like a gangrenous limb.

  I was completely losing it.

  Chapter 23

  “I know you know something. The statistics say…” I said, trying so hard to stay on track before I completely lost my mind. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get it back again if I did.

  “Honey, I don’t know anything.” Samantha took a tentative step closer to me.

  “But you went to the pawnbroker, you were raising cash for something.”

  “With your father missing, I needed the money fast. Paying our mortgage in his absence was more important to me than hanging onto silly pieces of jewelry.” She reached for me and I flinched, expecting her to slap me.

  Instead, she hugged me.

  Samantha pulled me close to her chest, cradling me against her while cooing that everything was going to be okay. I didn’t know what to do. Nobody hugged me, nobody touched me. In my entire life I could count on one hand how many people had ever laid a hand on me with compassion.

  Five fingers were superfluous.

  I only needed two.

  My father and Frankie.

  Samantha was number three.

  She held me so tightly that I couldn’t squirm away. I found I didn’t have the strength even if I wanted to. My anger seeped away and turned into something I had been avoiding for my entire life–sadness.

  Anger made me strong. It protected me from getting too close to anyone. It kept me going when not
hing else did. To let it go now was like surrendering, admitting that it was wrong to hold on to it for so long.

  But maybe it was okay now to let it go.

  Sadness might not make me strong but maybe it would make me into a better person. Someone that didn’t have to lie all the time, someone that people didn’t instantly hate the moment I opened my mouth.

  My eyes were wet again as I cried on Samantha’s shoulder. We dissolved onto the floor as she pulled me onto her lap. She held me against her as I let it all out, my body shaking with the effort.

  “It’s okay, Em,” she whispered over and over again in my ear. I had known her for all of a few weeks and already she had torn through my barrier and uncovered the scared little girl within. I’d never known a mother before but I had imagined it was like this many times.

  It was just so tiring always being so angry.

  Exhausting.

  I felt every moment of it in my bones, dragging me down as I carried it through my life with me. I didn’t want to carry it like a burden but it had always been there.

  I didn’t know how to live without it.

  But perhaps it was time.

  We sat on the floor of her perfectly clean and decorated house, surrounded by pictures of the happy, smiling family. A part of me was guilty for bringing my mess into the pristine space. The other part of me knew it was because of the man in the photographs that I had that mess to begin with.

  I pulled back when I was all cried out. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  Samantha wiped at my tears, offering me a small smile. “Don’t be sorry, sweetie. This is a difficult time for everyone. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through. Do you want to talk about it some more?”

  I did.

  It surprised me more than anyone.

  However, I never got a chance. The doorbell rang, jerking us both from the moment and stealing the attention away from me. Perhaps that was for the best. Nobody needed to know just how fragile I was.

  “Sorry,” Samantha said as we stood. I had to climb off her lap before she could go anywhere. While she went to the door, I checked my face in the mirror on the wall. I looked like I’d cried a river.