The Tightrope

by Hiba Basit

  She looks fretfully around the room. It takes her a good few minutes to realise she’s at the wrong dresser and that she left it in the dresser near the kitchen. Keeping her body hunched, she hurries over and opens it. Her locket lies on the velvet fabric, looking up at her with its luminous silver face. Opening it, she stifles a cry as she stares at her child’s face, her beautiful little girl. Suspended in the background, the drawing Alex sketched catches her eye. She picks the artbook up, remembering David’s explanation about the proverbial belief. David had said the effect is a metaphor for existence. A symbol of where life is heading and a way to consciously stop it before it reaches that point.

  Suddenly, she is pulled backwards and dragged into the bathroom. ‘Sorry about that!’ Jordan says, releasing her and locking the door. ‘No one can hear this!’

  ‘What the hell, Jordan?’ she whispers irately, hoping he doesn’t notice how badly she is shaking.

  As if reading her mind, his expression changes. ‘Annie, gosh, what is it?’

  ‘I just got blindly dragged in my own home! Listen, I need to call the hospital.’ She tries to push past him but he stops her.

  ‘I need to tell you something first.’

  She yanks herself free. ‘Jordan, Alex is in danger. I figured it out. Andrei escaped from prison because he wants her back. She warned me something like this would happen, but I didn’t understand her.’

  ‘Annie –.’

  ‘No! If anything happens to that child, it’s my fault. I’m the one who’s let her down from the very beginning. I won’t let him get his hands on her again!’ She is still talking when Jordan clasps his hand over her mouth and pushes her against the wall. It’s the only thing he can think of to make her shut up.

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I need you to calm down so that I can tell you what’s happened!’ She nods reluctantly and he steps back. ‘Alex has disappeared.’ His words send chills into her spine. ‘A nurse heard noises coming from her room but when he went inside, the curtains were blowing and the window was pulled apart. She couldn’t have climbed out of the window herself. It’s possible that Andrei took her from her room as she was sleeping. Now, they’ve already called the police and I’ve organised a search around nearby areas but if word gets around, the hospital’s reputation is going to be ruined. You understand this, don’t you?’

  But Annette isn’t listening any more. She almost loses her footing as she realises the fatal mistake she’s made. Jordan calls her name, but she’s too overcome with emotion; it renders her speechless. Ignoring his questions, she pushes past him, sprinting towards the door. Locket tight in hand, she runs past David just as he appears from the kitchen, and lands barefoot in the rain. Her feet burn brutally from the cold but she continues to run, not daring to look back. She hears David call her name, asking her where she’s going and then shouting at her to come back. The distress in his voice hits her like an arrow, and she almost turns to look at him.

  As she nears the beach, she slows down to regain her breath. She wonders if the driver obeyed the text message she sent earlier and is taking Santana to the airport without her. She wonders if Santana knew it was coming, if she felt an instinct of some sort when she was left alone in the car. As she makes a beeline for the dock, she wonders if her own instinct is correct right now, or if she is finally incapable of feeling anything that’s worth following.

  ***

  The damp attic air sends David into a coughing spree.

  ‘How bad is it up there?’ Jordan calls.

  ‘Not too bad. Just some moisture in places.’

  Jordan climbs up and looks around. ‘Always the optimist!’ he says. ‘Mate, the water’s about to leak through the attic floor!’

  ’It doesn’t matter. I just need to find a flashlight so I can go outside and search for Annette.’

  Jordan detects a note of worry in his voice. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ he says, trying to reassure David, although he isn’t sure in the slightest.

  ‘It’s just, the last time I saw her like this, I found out she had a daughter.’

  ‘Do you think she’s hiding something from you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He seems to lose himself in his thoughts. ‘I hope not.’ He shrugs, moving a pile of vintage quilts to the side. ‘I don’t know if I can take any more lies. We’re having a baby, we both just want to focus on that. Shit!’ he cries, treading on something uneven and losing his footing. His elbow smacks the attic floor and his leg breaks through one of the planks, striking something solid.

  ‘You all right?’ Jordan asks, helping him up.

  ‘Yeah. Can you help me take the planks apart?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I kicked a box down there!’ Pulling the planks away, he sees a small toy chest, flipped on its side and thrown into the corner. He reaches for it. ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘What’s the combination?’

  David shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen it before.’

  Jordan notices a pair of pliers on the bookcase. ‘Here. I’ll continue looking for the torch.’

  David nods and starts turning metal against metal, hoping to break the rusting bolt. Instead, his fingers turn red and start to hurt with the force of his grip. He spins the figures to their anniversary date, wedding year, Annette’s birthday, Santana’s and his own, St Anne’s opening day and other important dates, but the lock refuses to unbolt.

  ‘When did you call for a plumber?’ Jordan asks, looking through the attic window.

  ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Well, there’s one outside your front door. I’ll go downstairs and sort it out.’

  ‘Thanks.’ As soon as Jordan leaves, David reaches for the mallet besides the wall and smashes the box straight through the middle, like a skilled lumberjack. The navy cord fabric instantly tears from the wood and items jump out from the box and land at his feet. A colourless photograph of a female catches his eye. He studies the snapshot, tracing his gaze down the length of her wavy blonde hair and her blue eyes. She’s wearing a white or violet dress; he can’t tell in the darkness of the attic light. The rain drizzling in the backdrop has soaked her dress, which has attached itself to her skin and body, creating ripples of cloth against her stomach and shoulders. For some reason, as he stares at the snapshot, he feels he recognises the woman; he can almost predict the texture of her flowing luscious hair, imagine how her hip will rest perfectly against his, how the groove in her upper lip will rise as soon as her lips touch his, how her collar bone will expand and become visible beneath her warm skin as she leans into him. He feels paralysed for a moment, gulping the inkling of doubt rising in his throat.

  He lifts another print of the same woman. The photo is ripped, an unclaimed male hand around her right shoulder and an infant wrapped in blankets in her arms. Her hair is wild and golden. The sun illuminates her silhouette, giving the photo an ephemeral quality, as if the world’s elements were placed by design to highlight her presence.

  It is only when his gaze shifts to the left corner of the image that he becomes aware of the street she is standing on and runs his fingertips in the air to stop himself from falling. It’s the Bucharest Boulevard of Calea Victoriei, the street that was on the postcard his colleague sent him when he returned to Romania.

  David rifles through the other items, shifting pieces of broken wood out of the way until he finds what he had hoped not to find. Slowly, purposefully, as if it’s a bomb that may go off at any moment, he picks up the stack of dusty and creased papers. He unfolds each paper in turn, finding a passport, birth certificate, social security card and driving licence. The name on each document has been obliterated with a black marker, as well as the address and date of birth of the person. He starts to feel a sense of relief at finding no evidence to confirm his fears, until he unfolds the last paper, yet another birth certificate. As he reads the writing, his heart sinks. He loses his footing and crashes to the floor. Clenching the papers in his fist, he closes
his eyes, drowning out the world for a long time, until he hears Jordan approaching, bringing him slowly back to reality. A cold chill charges up his spine and seeps into the rear of his neck as he looks at the name of the child on the birth certificate, and then, below it, the name of her mother.

  ***

  Annette stumbles onto the empty beach. Her natural instinct is to slow down now that she’s here but she feels a need to keep moving and doesn’t notice the icy water until it swims over her feet, catching her by surprise. She scans the dark expanse around her, feeling as if she’s the only one on stage in the middle of a big auditorium, standing in the spotlight of her spectators, who anxiously wait for the show to unfold.

  Suddenly, she hears something move behind her but as she spins around, a big strong hand whips around her neck, squeezing it tightly and swiftly twisting her body back towards the sea. She cries out and tries to twist away, but the grip is firm and a second arm slides over her stomach, pulling her inwards.

  ‘If I knew this day would come, I’d have brought you a gift,’ the man says and although she can’t see him, she detects a menacing smile on his lips.

  ‘What for?’ she asks, aware of his groin pressing into her lower back.

  ‘For happy returns!’

  ‘Toni?’

  ‘You always were a whore. I can’t stand to even look at you right now!’

  ‘It’s just a party dress, Toni.’

  ‘It’s a pretty dress to get pretty laid!’ he says, and she feels him harden against her back.

  Something lurches inside Annette. ‘Where is she?’ she asks, trying to steer herself back on track.

  ‘Oh, darling, everything we did together, you wanted it, you took pleasure in it as much as I did. You’re asking for it right now!’

  He spins her around. And, just like that, her gaze falls on her ex-husband. After nearly ten years apart, Antonio has the same overpowering effect on her as he did when they first met. He still has the power to silence her with a single lustful glance, as if his gaze flicks a muted compulsion her way.

  ‘Jesus! What have you done to yourself?’ he asks, looking appalled. Annette remembers the help she had to radically change her appearance after she ran away and left him. ‘Since your stockings are already ripped –.’

  ‘No!’ Annette shouts. ‘Don’t do this. You don’t want to be this person any more!’

  But he moves towards her and, in one smooth and practiced movement, he lifts her dress over her hips and enters her. She feels powerless in his hold, as if he’s cast a paralysis spell over her. There’s a far-away place people go to when something like this happens. They shut down, in both mind and body. But, as the memories they’ve shared with each other surface and crash together in front of her and the emotions they bring with them explode inside her heart, she struggles to shut down. There’s both cruelty and tenderness in the way Antonio is moving inside her and the way he’s looking at her, and she feels the guilt and shame rise like a choked sob as she starts to orgasm.

  When he’s finished, he drops her to the ground, the sand springing up like blown powder as she lands.

  ‘You always thought less of me, Swanlegs.’

  She manages to meet his eyes. ‘I never thought nothing of you.’

  He rushes forward and kisses her fiercely and, for an instant, she’s back in their sundrenched room, making love for the first time.

  ‘Where is she?’ she cries, pulling back and trying to regain some control.

  ‘Tell me who you’re looking for.’ He rises, closing his zip. She fastens her dress up, her hands blindly fidgeting with the buttons.

  ‘Where’s Alex?’

  ‘Who is Alex?’

  She remains silent, knowing the extremity of what she is about to say. He strikes her, slamming her head sideways. ‘Who is Alex?’

  ‘Our daughter,’ Annette slurs, wiping the blood dripping from her mouth.

  ‘Yes!’ he cries, looking insane with excitement. ‘She’s my daughter! My daughter! A for Alex, M for you and S, my favourite, for my darling Sofia!’

  Annette hasn’t heard Santana being called Sofia for so long. She prays with all the strength she has that he hasn’t found out where Santana is.

  ‘What have you done to Alex?’ she shouts, but he moves his finger back and forth, like a hypnotist’s pendulum, a smirk twisting the end of his mouth.

  ‘Darling, I can see you’ve forgotten your place. Remember, I ask the questions and you answer them. So, now, tell me, where’s Sofia?’

  ‘Not here.’

  ‘Where, then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You’re lying!’

  ‘You wouldn’t hurt Alex. She’s your daughter. Your own life and blood!’ She feels the panic escalate in her voice because even as she says the words, she knows he would hurt Alex if it meant he’d get his own way. He’d hurt her just for the fun of it.

  His lips part into a callous smirk. ‘You didn’t give me a chance to know my life and blood. You know I easily harm people who mean nothing to me.’

  ‘What about me?’

  She sees a shadow pass his eyes for the first time that night, an indication that her words have jolted him.

  ‘Did I mean nothing to you? Didn’t you love me?’ He turns away, but Annette can no longer hold back; she’s waited years to know the truth. ‘We were so happy after Sofia. What happened? Why did you change? You became a different person.’ He tries to create some distance between them but he doesn’t get far because Annette is in front of him, blocking his path, quivering with rage. ‘I had six abortions because you refused to use a fucking condom! Two were twins, Toni. Are you even listening to me? Two of our babies were twins!’ She swallows hard, steadying her voice. ‘I wasn’t going to let you get rid of Alex. Not when it was the wrong thing to do.’

  ‘Maria,’ he finally says, reaching out and resting his hand on hers. ‘You were sold to me by your parents.’

  She looks at him in bafflement. ‘No kidding!’

  ‘You knew?’

  ‘Yes! Is that why you did what you did? It was all an act and then you got your money and it was all over. I didn’t go with you that night because I was ignorant of what was taking place, because I didn’t realise my parents needed money for something and they were using me to get it. Toni, I married you because I loved you! A part of me still does, which is why I won’t tell the police where you are if you leave right now.’ He starts to laugh. ‘I’m telling you the truth. You can escape a free man. All you have to do is give me Alex.’

  He grins menacingly and holds the look, as if he’s uncovered her weak spot and expects a deserved reward.

  ‘Alex or Sofia?’

  Annette feels the world beneath her feet shake.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

  His eyes flash. ‘If you had to make a choice, which one would you choose?’ She looks at him in horror. ‘Fine! No ifs, darling. I’m telling you. Make a choice. I really don’t care. I’ll take whatever’s left. I always have!’

  ‘They’re not objects! They’re our children!’

  ‘Admit it. If someone gave you the chance, you’d take Sofia and run.’

  ‘She’s my baby! I’d do anything for both of them! I’ve been protecting them since the day they were born because you were such a worthless father. The things you did to Sofia. I didn’t want Alex to grow up like that! Damn it, I’d never want any child to witness what you did.’

  ‘I said you weren’t to give birth to any more children.’

  Annette doubles over, a sickening sensation swelling in the pit of her stomach. ‘You got me pregnant and went off for months on your “business meetings”. I called you when I found out about Alex but you never picked up. I did what I thought best. After six abortions, I gave birth to my girl and I wouldn’t change it for the world.’

  ‘Funny how she turned out fucked up either way.’

  ‘She’s confused. She’s in pain!’

  ‘She shouldn�
�t be, since you’re the perfect child curer. Best psychologist in Canberra, I’ve heard!’

  ‘Where is she?’ Annette says, her voice hardening.

  ‘Or maybe it’s your excellent maternal skills that get you points.’

  ‘I’m not the same girl you married fifteen years ago. Tell me where my daughter is.’

  ‘Or else? I’ve told you Swanlegs, I’m not leaving with nothing this time. Since you’ve already left Alex behind once, you can do it again. She’s better off without you.’ He turns around but Annette grabs him.

  ‘Give her to me!’

  ‘It’s time for you to let her go!’

  ‘No, Toni!’

  ‘You did it once!’

  She slams her arms into him. He stumbles, caught off guard.

  ‘What I did was save both of my daughters!’

  He grabs her face, rage reddening his own face. ‘What you did was deliver a baby and parcel it next door!’

  ‘I was young! I took her to the orphanage thinking she’d be safe. I had to run back and get Sofia and then leave Romania, my home, because the police distorted my whole life in front of me, took away my daughter and changed her name, and sent me to live as someone completely different.’

  ‘You went back because you love Sofia more.’

  ‘No! Because you were coming home that night. Because you knew about Sofia but not about Alex. I didn’t want our child seeing her dad being arrested!’

  He lets her go, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Clever idea, faking our deaths. High-class person as I was, people would have started asking questions about my sudden disappearance. Where did you get the money?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Did you steal it from my safe?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Then where, Maria?’

  ‘Where do you think? Father gave me everything in his will. And an apology!’

  ‘Shoot the apology! Families will always be fuck-ups. How did you get on this case anyway?’

  ‘I funded it. Secretly.’

  ‘Oh, gosh, you’re pathetic!’

  Annette forces herself towards him but it’s a mistake, he goes for her neck.