by Amy Cross
***
“It's my fault,” I tell her yet again as I take the tags off the new pair of pants I hurriedly bought on the way to the mall's bathroom. “Don't blame yourself, it's 100% my fault, okay?”
Hearing no reply, I head to the stall and try the door, only to find that she's locked it from inside.
“Can you open up, honey?” I ask.
I wait, but a moment later I realize she's quietly weeping.
“Open the door, sweetheart,” I continue, holding back tears of my own. “It's okay, I should have realized you still weren't up to this. I guess the mall can be pretty scary when you're not used to it.”
Or when you've forgotten that you're used to it.
I wait again, before holding the pants over the door for her. After a moment, she takes them and I hear her sniffling on the other side.
“Just come out when you're ready,” I tell her. “There's nothing to be ashamed of. You just -”
Before I can finish, I hear footsteps nearby, and I turn just in time to see a woman coming into the bathroom with her daughter. I recognize them from the ice cream store earlier, and although I smile at them, I immediately see the look of disdain on their faces.
“Hurry up, darling,” the woman says snootily as her daughter goes into the stall at the far end. “Do your business.”
Rolling my eyes at the way the woman treats her daughter like a dog, I step back and wait for Addie to finish in the stall.
After a moment, however, I realize that the woman is watching me.
“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile as I glance over at her.
When she doesn't respond, but continues to stare at me, I look back at the stall door.
“You know,” the woman says finally, “I appreciate that your girl obviously has some serious health problems, but you shouldn't bring her to a place like this if she can't contain herself. It ruins the mall for everyone.”
Resisting the urge to scratch the bitch's eyes out, I keep my eyes on the stall, desperately hoping that Addie will come out soon. “Honey, have you -”
“You should get her some help,” the woman adds tartly, adjusting her ridiculous, far-too-large scarf. “I mean, Jesus Christ, what kind of mother lets her daughter soil herself in public like that? You'll traumatize the poor thing. Then again, judging by the look her face, I think maybe the damage is already done. It's just disgusting.”
“Are you okay in there?” I ask, somehow managing to hold my tongue as I wait for Addie to come out. “Honey?”
Taking a deep breath, I realize my voice is trembling with barely-suppressed rage.
“My Delilah hasn't soiled herself since she was in diapers,” the woman continues. “My husband and I trained her properly.”
Swallowing hard, I close my right hand into a fist and dig my fingernails into my palm, hoping that the pain will help me keep calm.
“Then again,” the woman adds with a sigh, “we were blessed. Delilah has been almost no trouble at all. I'm sure it must have been hard for you, if your daughter developed certain difficulties, but still, you could at least try to -”
“Shut up!” I yell finally, turning to her. “Just... Shut the hell up!”
She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
“If you say one more word to me,” I continue breathlessly, “I swear to God, I will wipe that smile off your face!”
“Well...” She stares at me, clearly shocked. “There's no need to be rude! I was only -”
“I know exactly what you were doing,” I mutter, grabbing the tags from next to the sink and tossing them into the trash. “I don't need some random woman in a bathroom telling me how to raise my daughter.”
“Apparently you do,” she mutters.
“What did you say?” I ask, turning to her. For a moment, I feel as if all the frustration of the past few days is about to come spilling out.
“Everyone faces challenges,” the woman replies, rolling her eyes. “You just need to learn to deal with them, and to control them so that you don't ruin things for everyone else. That's part of being a good mother. Hell, it's part of being a good human being.”
“Are you saying I'm not a good mother?”
“I'm saying your kid pissed herself in the ice cream store, darling,” she says with a snide grin, “so I think the facts rather speak for themselves.”
I take a step toward her, and for a moment I want nothing more than to slap that grin right off her face. Before I can do anything, however, I feel a hand grabbing my wrist and I turn to find Addie standing next to me, wearing her new jeans.
“I'm ready, Mommy,” she tells me, before turning to the woman. “I'm sorry if my little accident upset you. I didn't mean to do it.”
“Let's just get out of here,” I mutter, leading her toward the door.
“You're angry,” she replies.
“Forget about it. It doesn't matter.”
Addie stops suddenly, and when I look back I see that she's staring at the woman.
“I like your scarf,” she tells her.
The woman sniffs. “It's Chanel.”
“It's really nice,” Addie continues. “And very long.” She turns to me. “You look like you're going to cry again.”
“No,” I tell her as we head out of the bathroom and over to the elevator, “I'm not. Let's just get out of here, okay? We'll go home. That's what we should have done in the first place. Coming here was a bad idea.”
When we reach the elevator, I press the button and then take a deep breath while we wait.
“You're a good mother,” Addie says suddenly.
I look down at her, shocked.
“I see that now,” she continues, eying me with a hint of surprise. “You put up with a lot of crap, mainly from your husband, but somehow you manage to keep things together. You wanted to slap that woman in the bathroom, and maybe you should've, but I can't really fault you for having self-control.” As the elevator doors open, she steps inside and turns to me. “Parents can really screw their children up, but I think you're the kind of parent who makes her children have better, happier lives. I wish all parents were like you.”
I stare at her, shocked by this sudden outpouring.
“Are you coming?” she adds. “I really think we should get home now.” She looks around at the elevator's interior. “These things are so shiny and neat. And so full of potential.”
Erica
When I wake in the dark bedroom, it takes a moment before I realize that the loud noise is my phone. My half-asleep mind immediately assumes that I accidentally set the alarm, but when I grab the phone and look at the screen I see instead that it's 2.33am and someone from the hospital is trying to get in touch.
“Turn that thing off,” Rob mutters from the other side of the bed.
“Hello?” I say cautiously as I answer. “This is Erica Gray, is something wrong?”
“Mrs. Gray,” Doctor Radford replies, “don't worry, she's here.”
I sit up. “Who is?”
“Addie. I assumed you must have been searching for her. She turned up at the hospital half an hour ago.”
Getting out of bed, I head out into the corridor.
“That's not possible,” I mutter, pushing open the door to Addie's room and looking at her bed. “She's right -”
Stopping suddenly, I see that the bed is empty. I turn the light on, and sure enough there's no sign of Addie at all.
***
“One of the nurses spotted her,” Doctor Radford explains as we head across the ward's main reception area. “It seems Addie was going from room to room, asking everyone if they'd seen someone named Jesophat.”
“This isn't possible,” I mutter, spotting some of the nurses and seeing the expressions of pity in their eyes. They must think I'm a terrible mother.
“So you hadn't noticed that Addie was out of the house?” Doctor Radford asks.
“We put her to bed early,” I reply, “and it never occurred to us that she might sne
ak out.”
Stopping at the next door, I look through and see that Addie is sitting calmly on the bed while a nurse dabs at her bare feet with cotton wool.
“It appears she walked all the way here,” Doctor Radford continues, “and she has some cuts on her feet. Nothing too serious, though, so I don't think there'll be any long-term damage. Still... Did you really have no idea at all that she'd left the house?”
Addie turns and looks at me, and I swear she seems amused by the fact that I've had to drive out here in such a disheveled state. My first instinct is to rush over to her, but I hold back, instead watching as the nurse finishes cleaning her feet.
“I came to find Jesophat,” Addie tells me. “It's been too long. I'm really worried.”
“Do you know what that means?” Doctor Radford asks.
Stepping into the room, I make my way cautiously over to the bed.
“I don't think he's here,” Addie continues, looking up at me. “I know I've... If I'm good, will you help me? He might be lost and scared, and I don't think I can just sit around waiting for him to find me. If he's not in the hospital, he could be anywhere!”
“All patched up,” the nurse says with a smile, heading to the door. “Remember your shoes next time, kid. You're lucky you didn't scrape your feet up worse.”
As the nurse and Doctor Andrews leave us alone for a moment, I stare at Addie and see the calm, confident expression in her eyes.
“They let me watch TV,” Addie says. “It was about a man who met a bear in the forest. If he'd run away, the bear would have seen he was weak and would have chased him, but the man stood firm. The bear roared a lot, but eventually it got nervous and left, all because the man didn't show any fear. Isn't that -”
“Who's Jesophat?” I ask, interrupting her.
I wait, but she doesn't reply.
“Enough games,” I continue, feeling for a moment as if I want to grab her shoulders and shake the information out of her. “Just tell me who he is.”
I see a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
“Addie -”
“I just need you to help me,” she says firmly.
“This has to stop,” I tell her, grabbing a chair and dragging it over, before sitting in front of her. She's still on the edge of the bed, slightly higher than me, and when I look at her bare feet I see that there are several scratches all over the soles. “It's almost four in the morning,” I continue, “and I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Addie, the -”
“I'm not Addie,” she replies.
Above her, the electric light is buzzing slightly, and flickering.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing hard and figuring that I should try a different tactic. “Then who are you?”
I wait, but now she's still just staring at me.
“What's your name?” I ask. “If it's not Addie, then what is it?”
She pauses, before shaking her head.
“Why not?” I continue, trying not to sound too exasperated. “Just tell me.”
Again, she shakes her head.
“I have to call you something. If you want me to use a different name, you need to tell me what it is. Unless it's a secret?”
She nods.
“It is a secret?” I ask.
“Not exactly, but...” She pauses again. “It doesn't matter right now. What matters is finding Jesophat. I keep having these... I keep having these nightmares about him.”
“Is your name...” I take a deep breath. “Is your name Serriah?”
I wait, but she doesn't answer. There's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, however, and I feel as if she's trying to play with me.
“Do you think your name is Serriah?” I continue. “Is that what this is all about? Did you somehow hear about something that happened a long time ago? Because if you did... That's not you, honey. It might feel like you, but it's not. Serriah Sansome was an older girl, and she died before you were even born.”
“I know.”
“So you need to get past this. Your name is Addie Gray and -”
“No, it's not.”
“Yes,” I continue, trying to stay calm, “it is.”
She shakes her head.
“Addie -”
“I keep having nightmares about him.”
“About who?”
“Jesophat.”
I can't help sighing. “You don't know anyone named Jesophat.”
“I do, and he's missing. He should be here by now, but the nightmares are all the same. There are...” She pauses again. “I promised everything would be okay. When I finally found him and started leading him back, I promised.” She looks down at her hands, where her pinky fingers are once again linked together. “I can't break that promise.”
Staring at her, I realize that she might finally be opening up a little. Maybe if I can get her to talk about the fantasy, she'll finally let go of it all. That's the opposite of what Doctor Sawyer recommended, but I'm getting desperate. “Okay,” I say cautiously, “so you're having recurring nightmares. What happens in these nightmares?”
She hesitates. “He falls.”
“From what?”
“From the wall.”
“What wall?”
“The wall we're climbing up,” she continues, with a hint of exasperation in her voice. “We climbed together. We promised we wouldn't lose sight of each other, but I climbed a little bit faster. In the nightmare, I always look back and see him falling. At first I thought it was just a nightmare, but now I'm really scared it's a different way of remembering the truth. I swore we'd stay together, and now I've lost him. What if he thinks I just went on and abandoned him?” She pauses again, and this time there are tears in her eyes. “What if he never shows up?” she sobs. “What if he thinks I don't love him anymore?”
“Come here,” I reply, getting up and pulling her close for a hug. “Whatever's going on, we can get you the help you need.”
“I just need to find Jesophat,” she whimpers. “If I do that, everything else will be okay. Please, just help me!”
“Addie -”
“I'm not Addie!” she yells, suddenly pushing me away with such force that I almost fall backward over the chair. “Don't ever call me that again! I mean it! I hate that goddamn stupid name!”
I stare at her, shocked by her outburst and also by the tears that are streaming down her face. Her whole body is trembling, as if she's on the verge of letting her rage explode.
“I don't want to hurt anyone else,” she continues breathlessly. “We never wanted to hurt anyone at all, not really, we just... If we'd had parents who were good to us, who were like you, then...”
She pauses, before breaking into a series of sobs and burying her head in her hands.
Stepping closer, I hesitate for a moment in case she pushes me away again, and then I put my arms around her. Her body is shuddering violently, and a few seconds later she lets out a slow, mournful moan as she puts her arms around my waist and holds me tight. For the first time since she woke up, she actually seems to want a little comfort from me.
“What if I never see him again?” she sobs. “What if the nightmare was real and he fell, and he can't find me?”
“I don't know, honey,” I reply, running my fingers through her hair. “I promise you, though... Whatever's wrong, we're going to figure it out.”
Erica
Running the vacuum cleaner back through to the front room, I glance at the sofa and see that Addie seems busy with something in her lap. At least she looks a little more relaxed for now, so I take a moment to finish cleaning and then I switch the machine off and head over to pull the plug from the socket.
“What are you doing, honey?” I ask, trying to make it sound like a casual inquiry.
The shower can be heard running in the bathroom at the other end of the corridor.
“Nothing,” she mutters, clearly fascinated by whatever's in her hand.
“Nothing I should worry about,” I continue, “or nothing you want to
let me see?”
I wait for an answer, but she remains quiet as I carry the machine to the closet. Once I've stowed it away, I glance at her again. For a moment, I feel as if maybe a little more normality is creeping back into our lives.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing, just...” She frowns, before turning to me. “What does it mean to run your hands over someone's filthy curves?”
I freeze. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”
She holds up Rob's phone.
“And why would someone want to lick someone's toes?” she continues with a faint, knowing smile. “That sounds gross.”
“Give that to me!” I hiss, hurrying over and snatching the phone from her. Looking at the screen, I see a text message that Rob apparently sent to someone named Emma. I take a look at the first few lines and see that he's talking about sucking her toes, but I quickly close the message and lock the screen.
“Are you okay?” Addie asks. “You look a little pale.”
Turning to her, I still can't quite shake the feeling that there's an even broader smile just waiting to burst onto her lips.
“Was it wrong of me to look at his phone?” she continues. “I wanted to see who he was sending messages to every time you left the room.”
“You shouldn't snoop,” I reply, feeling as if I'm about to explode with anger. “Where was the phone when you found it?”
“You seem -”
“Where was it?” I snap, before getting myself under control. “Just tell me where you found the phone.”
She points at the table. “Over there.”
Heading to the table, I set the phone down.
“On top of the magazine,” she adds. “Tilted so the top of the phone was almost touching the wall, and the bottom was just covering the place on the magazine where it says the date and price.”
I pause, before moving the phone to the position she described. For a moment, I stare down at the screen and find myself imagining all the other messages that must be on there. Are they all to Emma, or are some of them to other women? I vaguely remember meeting a girl named Emma at Rob's office once. She was one of those young, blonde things with a push-up bra and a perky smile. I've got belts that are larger than the skirt she was wearing that day.
