Epic Love

by Trudy Stiles

  “It’s not that easy,” he sighs. “For any of us. Her family is still dangerous and has far reach. They’ll make us pay for hiding the evidence we have on Tonya.”

  “They should cut that crazy bitch loose from their lives. If she murdered her husband, she deserves to pay for it.”

  “I completely agree, Buddy. But like I said before, if she gets indicted, so do her brothers. That’s the last thing her family wants. It would destroy their business.”

  “How did you get involved with her family in the first place?” I press, angry that we’re even in this predicament.

  “They funded the startup of my company. With dirty money. It goes really deep, Noelle. Too deep for me to turn it around.”

  I shake my head, and my heart pulls seeing the pain my father is in.

  “So you want me to disappear? This is your answer to fixing things?”

  My uncle chimes back in. “Noelle, this is the only way we can guarantee that you stay safe.”

  “But what about him?” I point to my father. “Tonya may be a certifiable lunatic, but she’s not stupid. She’ll figure it all out, and then what? They kill him and hunt me down?”

  “Tonya won’t know. She has no idea about the trust fund that your mother left you.”

  “Is that money dirty, too?” I ask, needing more answers.

  Uncle Ronald shakes his head. “No, that money is cleaner than clean. It came from your mother’s family entirely. It never mixed with anything your father ever used to run his various businesses. She made sure of that and so did her family.”

  “But, if my mother was so freaking rich, why couldn’t she invest in your company? Why did you have to borrow money from Tonya’s family?”

  “I didn’t want your mother tied up in my business in any way. And she didn’t know.”

  “So you lied to her? From what you’ve told me about my mother, she was a wonderful person. Don’t you think she would have helped you? Helped us?”

  My father nods his head slowly. “Yes, she would have. But like I said, I didn’t want anything from her. I wanted her to stay as far away from my business dealings as possible. I thought I was keeping her safe.”

  “Well you certainly dug us into a huge hole, haven’t you?” My anger rises, fist slamming against the table. “You’ve accomplished the one thing you’ve been trying to avoid for eighteen years. You’re about to lose the only family you have left.”

  Uncle Ronald raises his hand. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to make sure we get through this, protecting your father and you as best as I can.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t matter, Uncle Ronny.”

  “Noelle, if I could go back and change the way I did things, I would. I think. I–ah–I just don’t know.” My father’s exasperated. Tears threaten to fall again, and he chokes them back. “All I want is for you to be safe, and you leaving is the only way to make that happen.”

  “Will I ever see you again?” I ask, my voice shaking.

  “I hope so,” he says as my uncle shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, Noelle, but you have to consider this a permanent solution. Tonya’s family is too dangerous. Their reach is wide. The Constantinos are known for violence from coast to coast.”

  “I can’t do this,” I cry. “You can’t make me do this.”

  I’ll never see my father again. I’ll never see Heath. All of my friends. My fireflies.

  “Please don’t make me do this.”

  My father looks away as my uncle pushes the pile of papers in front of me and hands me a pen. “Sign where the yellow arrows are pointing. This will be over soon.”

  Tears fill my eyes as I scrawl my signature on page after page. When I’m finished, my uncle closes the folder and takes a deep breath.

  “The funds are being transferred into an account offshore. Here is the name on the account as well as a new social security card and ID. When you get to your destination, you’ll find a bank where you can access and draw as much at a time as you need to establish yourself, anonymously. You won’t be able to contact your father, or any of us. You need to understand that now. You’re disappearing. People are going to think you’re dead. You need to stay dead.”

  I feel like I’m about to pass out. All of this becoming too real. Too preposterous. I feel like I’m suddenly in the middle of a mob movie, having to hide to stay alive. We all know how those movies turn out–the hero or heroine running for their lives. The bad guys always find them.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I mutter. “It’s not going to work.”

  “You have to trust us,” my uncle says. “Tonya will have no reason not to believe that you’re gone for good.”

  “Then she’ll get too comfortable in her life with my father and she’ll slip up. She has to. She’ll get sent to jail, and I can come home.” I’m rambling, hopeful.

  “You have to stay away,” my uncle insists. My father’s eyes are now hollow, the life is being sucked out of him every second that we sit here, planning my disappearance. Planning my death.

  “I can’t do this,” I bawl. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  My father stands up and walks across the room, falling to his knees in front of me. He wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling me close, sobbing into my hair. “I never wanted it to come to this. I can’t say goodbye. I never thought I’d ever have to say goodbye to my daughter.” My tears join his, and we cling to each other, not wanting to let go.

  “When?” I ask, relenting.

  “Tonight,” my uncle answers quickly. “You’ll go back to physical therapy and call Heath, letting him know you ran later than you expected. He’ll come pick you up and take you home like nothing has changed.”

  “Does Heath know? Is he in on this?” I’m hopeful. Maybe he’ll run away with me.

  My uncle shakes his head. “He has absolutely no idea, and it needs to stay that way.”

  “But his father can help us, he’s the District Attorney for God’s sake!” I contradict my own thoughts. Thoughts that raced through my head a few weeks ago when Heath was pressing me for information about my bruises. At the time, I begged him to stop trying to guess what was going on with me. I begged him to believe me that I was okay. The thought of his father knowing anything scared the crap out of me. Now, I feel differently. Maybe we can get him to help us?

  My father releases his grip, placing his forehead against mine. “That’s exactly why he can’t know anything. Palmer Strickland cannot get involved or we’ll all be dead.”

  “Oh my God. How far does this go?” I whisper.

  “You now know everything. We’ve told you far more than we should have,” my uncle admits.

  “Dad, I can’t say goodbye,” I cry, tears pouring out of my eyes. I can’t leave him or Heath.

  “You have to, Buddy.”

  He stands up and leaves the room. Was that it? Was that the last time I’ll ever see my daddy?

  “Uncle Ronny?” my voice shakes. “There has to be another way.”

  “Noelle, you need to get it together now. We need to move quickly if we’re going to make this work.”

  My hands shake as he shoves my new identification and bank credentials into my hands. Words swirling in my head, instructions about what to do, what to say. Steps I need to take to disappear.

  He asks me to find something meaningful, something those close to me will know I would never leave behind. I need to take that with me tonight to the location he jots down on a piece of scrap paper. The stage will be set when I get there, I just need to leave this one thing behind and vanish into thin air.

  I’m numb as I go through the motions, nodding when he asks me to confirm specific details. I wring my hands together on my lap.

  I’m convinced that I’m going to fuck up. I’m going to do something to put everything in jeopardy.

  “Your father wants you to have this,” my uncle hands me an old worn, leather messenger bag. It looks like it’s decade
s old, the leather smell faded long ago.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure what’s in it, your father didn’t tell me. But he insisted you don’t open it until you’re safe and settled.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, fastening it over my shoulders.

  “Text Heath now. I’ll get you back to the physical therapist’s office right away.”

  “Okay,” I nod, trying to maintain my composure. “Can I say goodbye to my father one last time?” I beg.

  He nods his head. “He’s in his office. You have five minutes.”

  I stand up, pulling my phone from my pocket.

  Me: Hey! My appointment ran late. They messed up their schedule. Can you come get me in twenty minutes?

  Heath: God, I was worried about you! I should be able to get there in twenty. It may be thirty, if that’s okay?

  Me: No problem. Sorry to worry you.

  Heath: No worries. I love you.

  Me: Love you, too :)

  I walk across the floor toward the muted lights in the corner. His door is half open, and I hear him sobbing inside. I hesitate before I push the door open further. “Daddy?”

  He jumps up and rushes to me, pulling me into a huge hug. “I’m so sorry to do this. I can’t believe we’re saying goodbye. I’m not ready.”

  “Neither am I,” I cry. “I don’t want to go.”

  He kisses me and hugs me one last time, composing himself. “I never meant to put you in any danger. I need you to know that I swear I would have done something sooner had I known she’s been abusing you for years. You have to believe me that I didn’t know.”

  I nod and inhale deeply. “I know, Dad. I believe you.”

  “I promise I’m going to do everything possible to make sure we can see each other again,” he croaks weakly. He’s trying to make me believe his lie, but I don’t.

  “Okay.”

  “You need to go. Now.”

  I turn and walk slowly out of the room. “Goodbye, Daddy. I love you.”

  “Goodbye. And I love you more than you will ever know. Please be careful.”

  I don’t turn around when I hear his breathing hitch. I can’t look into his eyes for the last time.

  I need to pull myself together before Heath sees me. He can’t know what’s going on. He has to think I’m fine.

  This is the biggest lie I’m ever going to tell.

  And it’s going to destroy me.

  Noelle

  Present

  “THANKS, UNCLE RONNY,” I say into the phone. “I’ll see you soon.” The last time I spoke to my uncle was the day I disappeared. The day I died.

  I hang up and I stare at the phone number scrawled on the notepad in front of me. I’ve been in contact with my uncle for the past few days, since receiving some overwhelming information. When he called me on Sunday, it was the first time I’ve spoken to anyone in my family for almost twelve years. His news shocked me, and I’m still trying to process it all. But, his phone call prompted me to ask for a favor, which he just fulfilled.

  My heart races as I fold and unfold the worn piece of paper that I’ve carried with me since the day I left home. The words of a teenage boy are scrawled on it, frozen in time.

  Take me back to two weeks ago.

  My blue oil lamp painting

  the fireflies dancing in the ink night sky

  of your backyard in amber rose mosaics.

  When the moon is asleep I will

  find a way to rescue you.

  Take me back to two nights ago.

  Your eyes afire again with the tales

  your father told.

  I know his promises taste like a lie

  or a line or paper stack of let downs.

  When he has forgotten I will

  find a way to rescue you.

  Take me back to two moments ago.

  Setting fairies free to twirl

  under the watchful moon, back with her

  unwavering glow, moving the tides of

  unruly seas and your smile pulled at the

  corners of your mouth like a forgotten

  treasure.

  When all is forgotten you find

  new ways to rescue me.

  Heath’s poem. Heath’s song.

  I need him to rescue me–again.

  My hands shake as I dial the number my uncle just gave to me.

  Before I lose my nerve, I hit send. Nobody answers. Shit. Heath’s voicemail message plays through the phone, “I’m not here. In fact, I don’t even know where I am. Leave a message. If I don’t call you back, call Stuart. If you don’t know who Stuart is, then I don’t know you, which means I probably won’t call you back.” A long beep sounds and I hang up, terrified to leave a message.

  I rest my forehead against the cool tile on my kitchen island. I’ve been living on Chappaquiddick Island, part of Martha’s Vineyard and off the coast of Massachusetts since I “disappeared.” My home is quaint and unassuming, despite the size of my bank account. I live on a small beach with only two neighbors. I chose this place because it’s a remote location, the ferry being the only way on and off the island, unless you have your own boat, which I don’t. Of course, you can also charter a private plane onto Martha’s Vineyard, but I’ve never flown and I’m terrified of planes. With only a few hundred residents, it’s private, and I’ve been able to keep to myself for many years.

  I’ve ventured to the mainland only a handful of times since I moved here. One of those times was a trip to visit Boston, the city Heath and I were supposed to go to college together. My friend, Dahlia, got tickets to an Epic Fail concert and after much prodding, I agreed to go with her. It was a nerve-wracking trip, I was looking over my shoulder practically the entire time, worried that Tonya or her family were following me. I had been sequestered on Chappaquiddick for so long, the bustling of a large city was too overwhelming for me.

  I also agreed to go because I knew that I’d be able to see Heath, if only from a distance. I’d been following his life since I left home. Google is a wonderful thing. I’d been a fan of Epic Fail for several years, and when Alex Treadway left the band, I couldn’t believe that Heath replaced him. I always knew his poetry was mind-blowing, but only heard him sing a handful of times. I couldn’t believe how incredible he was, and to see him playing guitar as well was surreal. It’s like he was a different person, singing songs that night just for me. But he had no idea I was even there.

  And until the other day, I hadn’t had any contact with my family since I left. The conversation with my uncle was nothing I would have expected, which prompted my request to find Heath’s phone number. I need to talk to him.

  I need to explain.

  I need his help.

  I dial his number again, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I feel faint and wonder if this is even a good idea.

  He answers this time.

  “Hello?”

  I try to calm myself, taking deep breaths. My dizziness subsides.

  “Hello?” he asks again, quickly, sounding annoyed.

  I’m about to respond when he blurts out, “Look, I don’t have time for–”

  “Heath?” As his name leaves my lips, I tense up. What am I going to say?

  “Who is this?” he asks.

  It’s now or never. My finger is hovering over the ‘end call’ button on the screen of my phone.

  “Heath, it’s me. It’s Noelle,” I say softly, wondering if he even heard me.

  I hear a gasp on the other end, and then he states, “Impossible.”

  I cover my mouth to stifle the sobs escaping.

  “Who the fuck is this, and what kind of sick joke are you trying to play?”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize, about to hang up. “But this isn’t a joke.”

  “Noelle’s dead. Haley, if this is you fucking with me, I swear to God, you’re going to be sorry.”

  Haley?

  Are they still friends? Or more?

  Shit. This is su
ch a bad idea.

  “Heath, it’s really me. Noelle,” I say awkwardly. “I’m not sure what else to say to make you believe me, but I–I’m not dead.”

  His breathing hitches, and it seems like he’s pacing. He says a few things I can’t understand, and then he mumbles into the phone, “This can’t be real. This has to be a dream still.”

  A dream? He dreams about me?

  “This isn’t a dream. I promise you.”

  “I don’t understand,” he states.

  “There’s so much to explain. And I swear, I’ll tell you everything. But first, please tell me that you believe me,” I plead. I need to hear him say it. I need to know he believes that it’s me.

  He’s silent, and I can only imagine the crazy thoughts running through his mind.

  “Heath?”

  “I want to believe you. But, she–you–died. I saw the inlet, the jetty. There’s no way someone could survive that fall. There’s just no way…”

  There’s so much pain in his voice, guilt overcomes me. I’ve been carrying this lie for years, hiding in this remote community, pretending to be somebody that I’m not.

  “I left you something on the rocks. Something I knew would wind up back in your hands. Something that means more to me than anything on this Earth,” I say. I know the light catcher was found because I watched the news coverage. I also know that it was given back to my father, who would have immediately given it to Heath.

  He sucks in his breath. “Holy shit. This can’t be happening. Noelle?” His voice is pained, and I can tell he’s about to cry. I don’t think I can listen to his tears without comforting him, holding him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cry.

  “Sorry? Where the hell have you been all of these years?” His anger is back, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I thought you were dead! We searched for you! How could you do this to everyone? To me?”

  I’ve been preparing my response to this for longer than imaginable. From the moment I came to Chappaquiddick, I thought of ways to try to explain my disappearance and my faked death. It’s so hard for me to wrap my own mind around everything, much less try to get Heath to understand.