A Secret Service

by Joy Jenkins

  “Yes.”

  They were both silent. The moment stretched on until it felt as if they had been sitting there for hours.

  “Why?” Carter asked, working to hold back her anger and confusion.

  Letting out a slow breath, her father deflated. Exhaustion spoke in every line on his face as sorrow spoke in his blue eyes. "She wants me to sign the divorce papers.”

  The statement punched Carter. “What do you mean, ‘sign the divorce papers’? What divorce papers? You guys were divorced a long time ago.”

  “Sarge,” her father said, weary.

  “Are you telling me this entire time you’ve still been married?” Carter gripped the edge of the cushion. “She’s always been connected to us?” She stood, attempting to fight the anger threatening to drown her. “Did you think she would come back?”

  “Carter…”

  “You lied to me!”

  Hurt stabbed Carter. Divorced or not, the true pain lay with her father withholding this information from her. From years of still being tied to the woman who had abandoned them.

  “I hoped.” Her father dropped his head. “I thought one day she would come back to her senses and come back to us. I thought that up to the moment she laid the divorce papers in front of me…Clearly, it was a mistake to hope.”

  Carter hated him for his hope, for thinking the woman who left them could change. Even more, she hated that he hadn’t let her be a part of that hope, had kept her at bay.

  “Well, your hope was for nothing,” she snarled. “She’s the same as she always was: heartless. Just sign the damn papers and end this.”

  Carter stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door. Plagued by riotous thoughts, she walked without knowing where she was headed, only knowing she needed to get away from their apartment, her father, the lie.

  Eventually, she found herself at an empty playground and sank into one of the swings. She bent her head into her hands, her furious thoughts crashing against her chaotic emotions. A bitter wind gusted by, biting at Carter. She shivered.

  Raising her head, she stared at the old wooden playset. The one as a little kid she’d raced around with shrieks of delight as her father and mother played the roaring monsters chasing her. It felt as if nothing had changed, except it was only her mother who played the monster chasing her.

  Carter tugged out her phone.

  “Hello?” a deep voice said.

  Words choked Carter as she dug her heel into the red wood chips.

  “Carter?” Donovan said.

  “He never signed the divorce papers,” she said biting back her hurt.

  Donovan said nothing for a long moment.

  "When did you find out?"

  "An hour ago.”

  “Did he say why?”

  Carter clenched the phone. “He hoped she would come back. He thought one day she would. But guess what? She finally did come back and it’s not for us. She came back to be done with us for good. His hope got him nothing!”

  Angered, Carter leapt from the swing and kicked at the wood chips. Donovan didn’t answer.

  “Aren’t going to say anything?” she yelled.

  When he still didn’t answer, Carter dropped back to the swing, feeling the fight leave her.

  “He lied to me,” she whispered.

  A long stretch of silence passed before Donovan spoke. “Then he must have loved your mother very much.”

  Carter saw flashes of images: her father keeping the framed photograph of the three of them, her father’s arms outstretched as he begged his wife to stay, her father’s dazed stare as the taxi retreated, her father’s tight grip as he held Carter as she cried into his shoulder.

  With a sigh, Carter smoothed out the mess of wooden chips with her shoe. “Yeah, he did. A lot.”

  Another beat of silence.

  "Where are you?" Donovan asked.

  Carter didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the ghost of happy memories. ”A playground a few blocks from my apartment."

  "Do you want us to come?" he asked.

  She leaned against the swing’s thick chain, the metal chilly against her heated skin. "No, I'm fine."

  "That's a lie but an understandable one."

  Carter had no reply, they both knew he was right. But even as he called her out, it felt comforting that he did. He knew her.

  “Donovan..." He waited as she tried to form the right words. "Thanks for caring.“

  "We both do, Carter."

  Despite the invading cold around her, she felt a touch of warmth. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Night, Carter."

  Carter dropped her hand to her lap, sitting motionless. Around her, she glimpsed families in windows as the aroma of dinners floated on the air. She looked to the playset and knew what she had to do.

  This time a female voice answered the phone.

  “Okay,” Carter said, “you want to talk, let's talk.”

  Chapter 29

  Unaware of the clamor of the girl’s locker room, Carter laced up her running shoes and headed out into the gray day. As she approached Mr. Danes, he glanced up from his clipboard. “You need something, Owens?”

  "What are we doing today?"

  Mr. Danes gave her his full attention as if the simple question surprised him. "The usual mile run and then a game of soccer."

  "Okay," she said. "Well, you know I'm here."

  Leaving Mr. Danes baffled, Carter took off, needing to move. Hours of sitting, listening to lessons had put her on edge. She wanted to outrun her hurt over her father’s lie. To outrun the upcoming meeting with her mother. She ran, focusing on the beat of her shoes against the track, her heart beating steadily, the wind chilling her skin, and flicking her hair.

  When Donovan fell in beside her, she said nothing. He kept pace, matching her stride for stride. They ran as one entity, even their breath in sync.

  “You’re meeting her today,” Donovan stated instead of questioned. Carter nodded once. “After school?”

  Another nod.

  “What made you decide to see her?” he asked.

  Carter didn't answer right away, her thoughts still racing. "I want to know why she came back now.”

  They said nothing more. By the time the rest of the class began their miles, Carter felt calmer. As they came alongside Link, Carter and Donovan slowed.

  "You two are freaking synchronized when you run, you know that?" he said.

  "What can I say?" Carter said. "I've had to run with my dad, so I'm used to slowing my pace for someone else."

  "I believe we've already established that I am the faster runner," Donovan said.

  "I think those results were wrong because I had already been running at top speed before you decided to race me."

  "An excuse worthy of someone who has lost."

  Link groaned. "Either race or don’t. Just don't make me listen to this anymore."

  Donovan and Carter exchanged glances but said nothing else.

  ◆◆◆

  When Carter exited the locker room she found Donovan and Link waiting. Without a word, they took up positions beside her, as if acting as shields. She savored the feeling of their presence. On the top step of the school entrance, Carter stopped, gazing to the gates and the metro station that would take her downtown.

  "Are you driving to meet her?" Link asked.

  Carter shook her head. "No, I'll take the metro."

  "You want us to give you a ride?" Link asked.

  Looking down at the stone steps and back up, Carter shook her head. "No," she said, but she didn't move.

  "The car is this way," Donovan said, taking a step toward the parking lot.

  After a second’s hesitation, Carter followed. They carved their way through rows of BMWs, Mercedes, Audis, and Bentleys in silence as their fellow peers raced for their cars, the guys jostling each other and the girls laughing and mocking their antics.

  In the twenty-minute drive it took them to get to the restaurant, not a single word was spo
ken. Donovan parked in an open spot outside a glass front restaurant, leaving the car idling. Carter searched the restaurant's occupants until she found her mother, talking on the phone.

  "She's the blonde two tables back on the left," Carter said, pointing.

  Donovan rested one arm on the steering wheel but didn’t lean in to see. Link craned his neck for a glimpse. "You okay?"

  Carter gave a single nod that neither Donovan nor Link were convinced by.

  "I never actually thought I’d have to deal with her again,” she said. “After the third year of wishing she would come back, I gave up."

  She fell silent, the hum of the car’s engine filling the small space.

  "You don't have to talk to her," Link said.

  "I know," she said. "But I need to.” She paused. "Thank you.”

  “Do you want us to wait?" Link asked.

  After mulling over the offer, she shook her head. "I'll be fine."

  Gathering her strength, Carter opened the car door. Around her, the wind whipped between buildings, carrying away the persistent honking of horns. When she twisted back, Link offered an encouraging smile and Donovan nodded, as if telling her she could handle this.

  Bolstered by them, Carter walked to the restaurant, hiding her emotions away as she opened the door. Classical music floated through the air, mixing with the clinking of silverware and murmur of discussions.

  When Carter’s mother noticed Carter, she rose. They appraised each other for a stiff moment. Her mother looked as immaculate as always, not a strand of hair out of place. She gestured to the seat opposite.

  Taking her time, Carter stared at her mother. In her face, she saw all the features her own face held which she hated: the golden skin, high cheekbones, bow lips. Her blue eyes alone were her father’s.

  A waiter appeared, a pad in hand. "Are you ready to order?"

  "I don't want anything," Carter said.

  Her mother smiled apprehensively. "You sure? You just came from school. You must be hungry."

  Bitter anger sparked inside Carter at her mother’s pretend concern. She had no right to care or act like a mother.

  "I don't want anything," she repeated.

  Placing her order, her mother touched her necklace. Their eyes met and her mother coughed as if about to say something but the words never made it past her lips. The conversations of their fellow diners drifted around them, a dull buzz of background noise.

  "Why are you here?" Carter asked, tonelessly.

  Crossing her legs, her mother pressed down her skirt. "I was in town and thought I would see how you were both doing-"

  "Let's dispense with the lies," Carter said. "Tell me why you’re here."

  Her mother brushed back a piece of her hair, her mouth pressed together. In contrast, Carter sat like a pillar of stone.

  "I'm sure your father has told you," her mother said.

  Carter didn’t reply, waiting. Her mother clasped her hands, placing them on the cream tablecloth. Her nails were perfect half-moons, painted pink. "I came to have him sign the divorce papers and settle things with our lawyer," she said.

  The confession formed a wall between them. Carter rested her elbows on the armrests, keeping everything hidden.

  "Why did you need to talk to me then?" she asked.

  Her mother leaned forward. "I wanted to see how you were doing.”

  Carter plastered on a mocking, disdainful smile which made her mother blink. "You wanted to see how I was doing..." she said, slowly, condescendingly.

  "Alright," she said, her tone carefree. "You want to know how I'm doing so it will ease your conscience? Then know this: I'm fine, mother." She flashed her a wide fake smile, waving a flippant hand. "You may now go and live your life knowing that your only daughter is doing...just...fine."

  "Carter," her mother said, her voice flooded with emotion, "please let me explain-"

  "No need. You clearly decided your happiness was of greater importance than that of your family's.”

  "Carter, that's not why I left," she said.

  Carter raised one patronizing eyebrow. “No? Why then, was my father beating you? Was he drinking into all hours of the night and coming home drunk to pass out on the couch? Was he unloving? Was he uncaring? Did he not provide everything we needed? Please, do tell."

  Her mother’s uncertainty was plainly written on her features. On the table, her phone dinged and she glanced at it, something softening in her gaze. One hand went to her necklace. Everything clicked and Carter pounced.

  "Who is he?" she asked, her voice smooth as glass.

  At her mother’s startled eyes, Carter read the denial. "Don't lie to me.”

  "He is just someone-"

  "I said don't lie to me!”

  Shifting, her mother reached up to the necklace again while she crossed one arm over herself as if trying to build a shield against Carter. "Someone from work.”

  Carter checked her mother's left ring finger, spotting a faint tan line. "You're engaged.”

  Despite wishing to see guilt, Carter only saw happiness in her mother’s eyes. "Yes."

  A new pain cut through Carter as the image of a faceless man consumed her. It became tangled with the image of her mother laughing at his words, kissing him like she had kissed Carter's father, building a life with him. The images tore into her, angering her at the thought of her mother finding happiness.

  "Did you tell Captain?"

  Her mother gave a half-smile at the nickname. "I remember the first time you-"

  “No." Her mother stopped talking. "We're not talking about the past. You forfeited your right to those memories.”

  Stunned, her mother opened and closed her mouth.

  "Does he know?" Carter asked again.

  Her mother shook her head. “No. He doesn't know."

  "Good, then you will not tell him," Carter said, leaning forward. "Understood? I think one hell is enough to put him through, don't you?"

  Her mother hardened, eyes blazing with fury. "You can not talk to me like this. I am still your mother."

  Standing, Carter regarded her mother coolly. "That is where you are wrong. You stopped being my mother the moment you walked out that door."

  "Carter, I...this...it’s better this way," her mother said.

  "Sign the papers and leave," Carter said. "Don't try and see us again. You haven't been part of our lives for four years and you’re right, it is better this way."

  Her mother swallowed.

  "Enjoy your meal," Carter said, hollowly. "I told you I didn't want anything and I meant it.”

  ◆◆◆

  The apartment lay quiet when Carter entered, the silence feeling like a physical weight. In her room, she dumped her bag on the floor. Without turning on any lights, she climbed into bed and curled up against her pillows, staring out the window.

  The sun drifted away for the night and she sat there, unseeing, numb with a constant pain in her chest. The front door opened and her father called out. Carter made no response. Her father moved about the living room, his even treads ringing on the wooden floor. A minute later, her door squeaked open.

  "Hey, Sarge," he said.

  Carter didn’t answer. Her father sat on the edge of her bed. With his good arm, he pulled her into a hug. Carter went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder, staring blankly at the floor.

  "You talked to her, didn't you?" he said.

  She nodded. He kissed the top of her head. "Did it help?"

  She found she couldn't reply, the empty feeling eating her from inside.

  "I’ll sign the papers and we will be free of her for good," he said.

  "Yeah. Free.”

  Chapter 30

  As the dull morning light crept across Carter’s bed it found her already awake, laying completely still. Carter heard her father bustling around the apartment but she didn’t get up. Other than the ache in her chest, Carter felt numb. When her door swung open, she didn't stir.

  “Time to get up, Sarge,” h
er father said.

  Carter showed no sign of hearing him.

  “Sarge?” he asked, peering down at her.

  “I heard you.”

  Her father waited for her to sit up but she didn’t. All the things Carter had said the previous day lived in the room, no longer in her head. Instead of making her feel better, they made everything worse.

  Her father affectionately jostled her shoulder. “I’ll have something for you to eat when you’re done with your shower.”

  “Okay.”

  When her father drifted away, Carter swung her legs off the bed, the carpeted floor cool beneath her feet. The scalding water of the shower roused the blood in her veins but did nothing to alleviate the numbness. Exiting her room dressed in her uniform, damp hair darkening the blazer, she smelled toast and eggs.

  “We don’t eat breakfast,” Carter said, looking at the plate of food before her. “Not unless it comes in the form of a power shake.”

  Her father didn’t bother answering, instead eying Carter over the rim of his coffee cup, taking in the shadows under her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Despite her hurt over his lie, Carter felt words of confusion, anger, and pain rise into her throat. But she never said a single thing, because she could see the burdened, weary shadow in her father’s face. She took a bite of eggs, forcing it down with her jumbled confession.

  “No,” she said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  All through their drive to school, neither of them spoke, instead letting the patter of news reporters fill the emptiness. Only a few other cars lined the school drive when her father stopped the SUV. Father and daughter met each other’s gaze. Behind their eyes, they could read the thoughts that neither of them knew how to voice.

  “Have a good day,” Carter said, climbing out. "Try not to get shot again. I hear offices can be dangerous places."

  The joke lacked heart as did her father's chuckle. "You too. Stay out of trouble. I love you, Sarge."

  "I love you too, Captain."

  For half a second, Carter lingered but closed the door and walked away. Rather than entering the heated halls, Carter hoisted herself onto the low stone wall that ran along the ramp to the parking lot. The rich scent of espresso floated around her as students passed. In the distance, storm clouds crashed into each other.