Unravelling

by Josephine Boxwell

  “Good.”

  Elena didn’t particularly trust her, but Elena wanted friends. She wanted family. She wanted a grandma she could spend time with and tell other people about.

  “Why doesn’t my mom like you?”

  “She thinks I’m a bad person.”

  “Why?”

  “I used to drink a lot. And I said a few things she didn’t wanna hear at her wedding. Curtis told me to stay the hell away from them before I wrecked his marriage.”

  “Why didn’t my mom’s family go to her wedding?”

  Audrey stopped and stretched her back and eyed a bench but it was icy. She turned to Elena.

  “If I tell you what I know about her family, we have to make a little deal. I help you out, you help me out, okay?”

  “Okay,” Elena said, not sure what she was agreeing to.

  “I only know what Curtis told me before they got hitched, and he only told me about it because he didn’t want me sayin’ things that might upset your mom, which I ended up doing anyway ... but it is what it is. Your mom was born in Italy and her family moved to Canada when she was a kid.”

  Elena nodded. She knew that much.

  “Then, when your mom went off to college her dad ... whadd’ya say his name was?”

  “Massimo. And her mom’s name was Angelica.”

  “Massimo wanted to move back to Italy and the doctors told him your gramma, Angelica, was too sick to travel. But Massimo decided he was goin’ back, so he put his wife on a plane. She died a few days after they arrived in Italy. Your mom never forgave him. That’s why they don’t talk anymore.”

  Elena knew Nonna was dead, but Mamma never wanted to talk about it. Just like she didn’t want to talk about anything difficult. She was beginning to understand, finally, why her family was so different from everyone else’s. They didn’t stick together like the cowboy brothers in the poem. They fell apart. That’s how Elena, Mamma and Rob came to be so alone.

  “I figured that’s why your mom married Curtis so quick. He wasn’t good enough for her, but suddenly, the people closest to her were all gone, just like that!” Audrey snapped her fingers. “That’s gotta change a person. I made a few comments at the wedding ... after a few drinks, y’know. But what’s done is done.”

  Audrey didn’t seem very sorry about her past behaviour. She moved right on to the next thing. “And that’s all I know, so now it’s your turn. You need to tell me everything you know about the explosion.”

  “It’s a big mess. I don’t know what happened,” she said.

  “This is very important, Elena. What you know could help me find him.”

  “How?”

  “Whaddya mean, how?”

  “How are you going to find him when the cops can’t find him?”

  It was Mamma’s line but it was relevant. Audrey seemed very confident even though she hadn’t seen Dad for years. She didn’t know how he spent his time or who his friends were. What made her think she could figure out where he was?

  “The cops don’t care about finding him. They just sit around all day in their cop cars with their coffee and doughnuts. It’s you and me, the people that know him, we’re the ones that will get to the bottom of all this.”

  “But how?”

  “Well, first I gotta know what you know. Howd’ya expect me to come up with a plan when you’re keepin’ secrets from me?”

  Elena went quiet. She watched Audrey move stiffly with the cold breeze. Luckily, Audrey had had enough of waiting around.

  “Alright fine. You think about it and tell me the next time we meet. I’m gonna be in town for a few days.”

  Elena agreed. She waved goodbye to her grandma, who didn’t offer to drive her home. It was for the best. Elena didn’t want Mamma to know she’d been in Audrey’s car.

  Elena walked home with a loneliness she couldn’t shake. Information-trading wasn’t the relationship she’d hoped for and Audrey wasn’t the kind of grandma she’d imagined having. But she was family, Elena reminded herself, which was better than nothing.

  Sunday is a day of rest, Elena told Mamma on their way home from church. That’s why it wasn’t a good day to clean the house. Those were God’s rules and they had to be obeyed. Mamma said Elena did not need to remind her of God’s rules. Honour Thy Mother was one of God’s rules.

  They halted their conversation to watch a real estate agent from Stony Creek shove a FOR SALE sign into someone’s front lawn. “A bit optimistic,” Mamma murmured. Houses weren’t selling but people still had to leave, so their homes were being boarded up. Mamma had explained that those houses belonged to the bank now. Before the explosion, Elena didn’t know banks took people’s houses. Kathryn’s big house was boarded up and, when it snowed, the white stuff stayed piled up on the driveway until it warmed enough to melt. On Kathryn’s last day at school, she told the class excitedly that they were moving east to be close to her grandparents, but Mamma said the bank had taken their house, too.

  “We need to keep our house,” Elena explained to Mamma as they approached their front door. “Otherwise, how will Dad know where to find us when he comes home?”

  “I’m doing my best.” Mamma’s voice shook. It could have been the cold.

  Elena didn’t argue about the chores when she got inside. They all had to do their best until he came home.

  Elena heard the old station wagon belching behind her as she walked home from school. The snow had returned and the wind was stinging her face. It was mostly for the warmth that she got into the car. They didn’t drive anywhere.

  Audrey didn’t waste any time. “Are you ready to tell me what you know?”

  Elena shrugged.

  “Who’s heard from him?”

  “No one.”

  “Are you lying to me? Cuz I’ll find out. And we had a deal.”

  Elena hated being accused of things. She wanted to tell Audrey to go away but she wanted even more for someone to listen. “I haven’t seen him. No one’s seen him.”

  Audrey squinted at Elena. “Okay. But you know something. I can tell. I got a sense for these things.”

  Elena wondered again whether she could trust Audrey. At least she didn’t pretend he was going to show up any time soon and surprise them all, like Mamma did. Plus, Audrey was actually looking for him, unlike the cops.

  “I overheard Mamma and Brandon talking. The cops told Brandon to change his story about seeing Dad just before the explosion or he’d get into trouble too.”

  Audrey nodded. “Never trust a cop,” she said. “What else?”

  “My mom said I shouldn’t spend time with you.”

  “Listen, Elena, your mom thinks she’s doing what’s best, but she doesn’t have the balls for this kinda thing. You know she doesn’t. You and me are gonna have to work together to get your dad back.”

  Audrey was right. It was time to take a risk and tell her everything: how she had seen Dad’s truck in the forest, her suspicions about Frank and Ken based on the fact they’d both lied about events following that day, and how a security guard had approached her and Mary at the camp, which Mary said used to be a military base and that seemed to be somehow connected to everything else.

  “It’s got to be a cover up,” Elena said finally, though she didn’t fully understand the term. She’d heard it on one of Mamma’s cop shows.

  When she’d finished Audrey said: “I knew you were holding out on me.” But she didn’t seem happy about it. It was almost as though Audrey didn’t want to hear what she was hearing. Elena wondered if she might have done something wrong by telling her.

  The silence became awkward so Elena said goodbye and got out of the car. Audrey barely looked at her before gunning the old car forward.

  CHAPTER 19

  2 0 1 8

  VIVIAN IS FLIPPING through papers and photographs she discovered in a locked filing cabinet. The house is quiet; Todd is out and his conspirator is doing the laundry. She still doesn’t fold things properly though Vivian has explained it
numerous times.

  It scares her, how little some of these words and pictures mean to her, but as she digs deeper through the albums of photos, press clippings and notes, some things pop out of the darkness inside her head like fireworks. There she is as a child, four or five, sitting on a swing with Mother behind, both of them smiling. She remembers that day quite clearly, a rare occasion when Father was home. He was the one taking the photograph.

  The people glued down on the next page are a mystery. She must’ve known them at one time. Two boys and a German Shepherd, all three of them struggling to stay still; blurry paws and hands. Vivian and the same two boys playing in a park somewhere. Were they cousins, perhaps? Family friends? Does it matter that she has forgotten them entirely?

  She picks up another album. Photos, much more recent. She’s an adult. Todd is with her. More people she doesn’t recognize. She flips through the pages and a newspaper clipping slips out, yellowed with age. The Stapleton Herald. It’s about a tragedy at a river. Two names that are so familiar yet still a mystery. She folds the paper carefully and puts it in her cardigan pocket. She will ask Todd about this one. He will remember.

  Vivian puts the memories away and decides it’s time to go out. She has things to do. She must have; she can’t just sit around the house all day. The conspirator is still in the laundry room making a pig’s ear out of it. Vivian doesn’t bother disturbing her. She slips out of the front door and heads toward the gas station.

  Rhonda gawks like a fish. “Vivian! It’s minus 15 out! Where’s your jacket?”

  “I’m not cold.”

  Her teeth chatter and her limbs shiver. Perhaps she is a little cold. She hadn’t noticed.

  “I’m calling Todd.”

  “Don’t! Please! I’m fine.”

  Rhonda slips into the back. A moment later she returns with a giant puffy jacket. It’s grotesque, but Vivian allows her to pull it around her shoulders and guide her to a table. Rhonda pours her a cup of something hot and sets it down in front of her. “That’ll warm you up.”

  Vivian looks around for her purse. It isn’t on the back of her chair, or the floor. She’s lost it. It’s gone.

  “Where’s my purse?”

  “You didn’t bring it.”

  “I did ...”

  “You didn’t. I would’ve seen it. Sit down. The coffee’s on me. You should eat something, too. How about ...”

  Rhonda turns around and inspects the plastic-wrapped baked goods displayed in a wicker basket.

  “... a chocolate muffin?”

  Vivian doesn’t fully register the question. She isn’t sure how she got here.

  “But the banana bread is fresher,” Rhonda mutters.

  She puts a piece on a paper plate and leaves it in front of Vivian, who picks at it slowly. “It tastes like dough,” she announces after a few bites.

  Vivian finishes the sticky bread and looks around for a napkin. Rhonda is back at the counter, on the phone. She can’t believe it. Rhonda is betraying her. Rhonda, of all people. At any moment they’ll be here to take her away, the people who keep her trapped in her own house. There’s nothing she can do about it; no one she can trust.

  The doorbell jangles. Someone who looks like Frank—does he have a brother she doesn’t know about?—approaches the counter. Rhonda finishes her call and takes money for the gas. He spots Vivian as he’s about to leave. He smiles and comes over.

  “Hi Vivian.”

  “Hi Frank.”

  He hesitates. “I was going to have a coffee. Mind if I join you?”

  She gestures for him to sit.

  “It’s a cold one today.”

  He’s right. She hugs the puffy jacket. He ruffles one hand through his hair. There’s something strangely handsome about him. Frank isn’t usually so well put-together.

  “You dropped something,” he says politely and he reaches down to pick up a scrap of yellowed paper from the floor. He opens it up and he sees the tragedy in heavy black print. Vivian snatches it away and crumples it in her hand. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t want him to see it because she doesn’t remember what it’s about, but it feels as though he’s reading something very private, like a page from a diary. He inflicts what feels like judgment upon her with a long stare, sips his coffee and changes the subject.

  “Giulia’s doing a fantastic job of keeping the Inn going.”

  “Giulia?”

  “Yeah. Giulia Reid.”

  Vivian shakes her head. “You never should’ve taken her in, Frank. I thought you got rid of her. Why did you take her back?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know.”

  Frank stares at her, but it’s not Frank, is it? Vivian holds her breath. Who is this man sitting at her table trying to read her secrets?

  “Do you think she’s dangerous because of what her husband did?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m ...”

  “You’re not Frank. Frank knows exactly what happened.”

  “I’m Frank’s son. Dean.”

  Vivian is instantly embarrassed. She wants to get out of there, but where would she go? Everywhere is cloudy now. It has all become so difficult to separate and understand.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you, Vivian. I didn’t mean to confuse you.”

  “About what?”

  Dean smiles and gulps his coffee. Young people carry their drinks around everywhere with them nowadays. It’s time he left.

  “Did everyone believe what the papers said about Curtis Reid?”

  She doesn’t want to hear these names. They hurt her and he knows it, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s here. To make her angry. She can’t see them completely; their faces, the people they were. She doesn’t want to remember them.

  “There must have been a few locals, people who knew him, who didn’t think Curtis was capable of blowing up the mill.”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “No reason, except that you seem to know a lot about the town.”

  “Are you a writer?”

  “No. I’m a businessman.”

  “Then why do you care?”

  “I’m interested in the truth.”

  “Is it her? Is that woman you keep at the Inn telling you lies about her precious husband?”

  “Giulia?”

  “Yes ... Giulia.” She hates that name. “I know there’s something else going on here, Vivian, and I know you’re at the centre of it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “My dad, Frank, felt so guilty about something in his past, he didn’t want me to know he was my dad. I think you know what he was feeling guilty about. Was he involved?”

  “Involved in what?”

  “Mary said you were the piece of the puzzle that connected all the dots, and if I could crack you ... but you’re already cracking, aren’t you, Vivian?”

  “Enough.” Todd’s voice, right behind them. He seems bigger than usual, which pleases Vivian for some reason. “The people in this town are old and lonely and they want something to gossip about. My wife is sick. Don’t bother her anymore.”

  Todd helps her up, removes the baggy jacket and puts his own coat around her, carefully doing up the zip. This time she doesn’t feel like a child. He’s rescuing her from something. Todd thanks Rhonda as they leave and he gently folds Vivian into their car. She rests her hand on his knee as he drives them home.

  CHAPTER 20

  2 0 1 9

  THE SITTING ROOM. Old people sitting. She is old now, isn’t she? Is she? Afternoon sun. Heads nod. He is here. Lingering. He waits while the nurse presents her with little yellow pills and the two of them watch her gulp them down with a cup of water. “Well done,” the nurse cheers. Vivian ignores her.

  The nurse scuttles off with her clipboard and he passes Vivian a box of chocolates. Individually gold-wrapped. “Rhonda at the gas station told me these are your favourites. She said she only stocks them for you.”

  “Where’s Rhonda
?”

  Vivian looks around, craning her neck around the high-backed armchair.

  “She isn’t here. She’s working.”

  Vivian nods. Rhonda is always working. Vivian pops a chocolate from its foil and savours the sweetness. She reaches for another.

  “The nurse said you can’t have too many of those.” Vivian slips the wrapper off and swallows it whole. “I won’t say anything if you don’t,” he says.

  She grabs a third and the nurse reappears to remove the chocolates, promising to return them later. Vivian glares at the retreating figure, then beckons him closer, whispering: “They won’t give them back, you know. They’ll eat them. It’s terrible here. Can you get me out? I need to go home.”

  “I might be able to,” he says, “if you can help me.”

  She’s listening. The young man leans even closer. “Do you remember my dad, Frank?”

  She nods.

  The man continues. “I didn’t know him very well. I was hoping you could tell me about him.”

  Vivian riffles through the chocolate wrappers just in case she missed one. Nothing. She stares back at him.

  “What do you remember about Frank?” he asks.

  “Troublemaker.”

  “Frank was?”

  She nods.

  “What about you? Did you get into trouble together?”

  She nods again, a sly smile.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Frank helped me. I helped Frank.”

  He gives her an odd look. Then he points at her face. “You’re bleeding,” he says, “your nose.”

  She touches her nose and examines the red drops on her fingertips. He hands her a tissue. She doesn’t speak to him after that. There is only redness in her mind. Nothing else. Nothing to talk about.

  Busy floral patterns on the carpet, tablecloth and curtains. The cold, white landscape has been locked out by the sealed windows; the inside air is hot and dry. Glazed eyes sit around little tables in a room directed by a woman in a white smock. This is a madhouse. They’ve locked her in a madhouse.

  Vivian lurches to her feet. “Take me home!” she demands of the white smock. “I’m not supposed to be here!”