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Buried in Sunshine

Page 14

by Matthew Fish


  “Please eat something first,” Elizabeth insists once more.

  “I’ll lose my nerve if I don’t go now,” Emma says as she nods and smiles, “I’ll be fine Elizabeth—thank you.”

  “If I don’t see you again,” Elizabeth whispers. “Please take care of yourself.”

  “Don’t talk like that—I’ll be back, I promise.”

  *

  Emma patiently sits outside of the small insurance building waiting for the old lady who has been chatting up Brian Metcalfe for the past fifteen minutes or so. Once she exits the building, Emma makes her move. She jumps out of her car and enters the office.

  “Emma,” Brian says as he smiles.

  Emma does not say anything in reply. She locks the door behind her and closes the shades.

  “What…” Brian begins, “What are you doing?”

  “I want answers,” Emma says as she drops down a pile of love letters onto Brian’s table.

  With a heavy sigh Brian slithers into his chair and begins to thumb through all of the old letters. “I had no idea that your mother kept these…”

  “You were just going to leave Ethan and your wife behind?”

  “You have to understand…”

  “I don’t have to understand shit,” Emma quips sharply as she slams an open fist upon the table. “You and my mother were having an affair—you caused my father to leave.”

  “I did not cause your father to leave Emma…”

  “Is that because you possibly murdered him?” Emma asks as she places down the note from the box that used to contain the silver knife.

  “You know about the knife…?”

  “So you did it then?” Emma asks, as she reaches for her phone in her pocket.

  “Wait, Emma, you don’t understand…” Brian says as he holds his hands out in protest. “Don’t make that call—please. Just give me ten minutes to explain, if you still think I did it then go ahead and call the police. Just…you know me—I could never kill anyone. I was there to help you.”

  “Guilt…?”

  “I loved your mother. I never meant to hurt your father but you have to understand—their relationship, your father, Stephen…and your mother…it meant nothing to her. He wasn’t even your real father.”

  “Wasn’t my real father?”

  “Your mom was left by your real father after only one year of marriage. I would tell you his name, but she never mentioned it. She had a hard time and I was not able to financially help as I had my own family issues…my wife was not well—and we had to pay a great deal in order to get her help. So your mother met a rich man and married him so that you would not have to suffer. There were days when your mother would not eat, so that you could eat. There were times when you had no power or water—months when you lived out of a car. When Stephen Langford came into her life, she did not love him. She was with him out of necessity—because she cared for you.”

  “Then why did you kill him?”

  “I did not kill him,” Brian says as he reaches for his laptop and types in a few words. “He killed himself…or at least that’s what we think happened.”

  “Because he caught you…?”

  “Yes,” Brian says with a heavy sigh as he buries his large face in his hands. He then turns the computer to face Emma, “Here’s the article.”

  Emma quickly scans the newspaper report stating that Stephen A. Langford set his boat to lake Michigan during a thunderstorm and disappeared—wreckage from his boat was recovered a few days later, however, a body was never found.

  “What about the knife?”

  “You don’t know about the knife?” Brian asks as though he is deeply puzzled.

  “Why would you hide it?”

  “I didn’t hide it,” Brian says as he folds his hands together against the table. “Your mother never wanted Stephen Langford to find it, so she hid it in our special place.”

  “What about the room with the concrete?”

  “I did that work, I resurfaced the entire greenhouse. That old place was broken down, cracked floors and broken glass—I bricked up the hole in the wall, your mother convinced Stephen that it was a waste of electricity to keep such a drafty long tunnel connected. I made it so that it was our special place. I never, in a million years, thought he would ever find it—or us,” Brian says as he shook his head and looked nearly on the verge of tears. “He was always on his computer—he cared very little for being outdoors, he was never meant to go there. He never had a reason to.”

  “After my father…after Stephen Langford left—why didn’t you follow through with your plans?”

  “Guilt,” Brian says as he wipes away tears from his eyes. “Your mother and I could not follow through after what we had caused. She never saw me again outside of work.”

  “Why didn’t she just quit then?” Emma asked, confused at the idea that they had ended their relationship.

  “That’s the scar that being in such a desperate situation left her with. No matter how much money she had—she always worried that it would never be enough. Your father had left quite a large inheritance, but she never wanted to touch it—she never wanted you to go through what she had endured. Despite the fact that I still loved her, and perhaps she still loved me—she never said anything about it after that.”

  “You’re cheating on your wife now again though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You mentioned dinner plans two hours north—I know your wife doesn’t leave the house.”

  “I’m a depressed man,” Brian says as he lets out another heavy sigh and punches himself in the side of his head. “She never leaves. I never… I have no joy in this life. I live in a house that ever since Ethan left it— is full of depression and sadness.”

  “What happened to me? I know this past few years haven’t been the first of my issues.”

  “After your father left…we never told you it was a suicide—we figured it would be too difficult. You kind of broke down and refused to leave the house for a few years. You got better on your own.”

  “How do I know that any of this is true?” Emma asks as she attempts to piece together all the pieces in her mind. She is so confused by the entire situation that she does not know what is true and what is not. His words seem sincere, but Emma knows that he has kept many secrets.

  “Please, Emma,” Brian pleads once more as he begins to cry. “I am not a killer. I did cause someone to take their life—I admit to that, and I will forever carry that burden with me. It kept me from being with the one I loved. I now care for my wife who has also caused harm, which is my punishment. I am not a perfect person; I am not even a good person. Please do not tell Ethan. Our relationship is already strained. If you care about him, which I think that you do—he called me earlier, he cares about you—then please, just keep this from him.”

  “It’s all a cycle of lies then isn’t it?”

  “It is what we felt we had to do,” Brian says as he looks down to the table which is wet from his tears. “It was wrong, but it was love. Just please, don’t tell Ethan about my mistakes. If he were to ever find out that I was planning on abandoning him—I fear he’d never talk to me.”

  “Do you ever wonder that you might deserve that?” Emma asks as she places her hands upon the table and narrows her eyes. She had no idea that she could be so cruel until now. “Don’t we all deserve a little truth after all the lies you’ve told?”

  “Please Emma…don’t do this.”

  “I won’t be a part of your lies—I’ve already kept the letters from him and I feel terrible about it. I won’t do it any further.”

  “It will destroy me.”

  “Like it destroyed my stepfather?”

  “He wasn’t a good person—“

  “Are you any better?”

  “No,” Brian says as he hangs his head down low. “I’m begging, I’ll give you anything you want—just don’t tell Ethan.”

  “What I want…” Emma begins as she slams her fists agains
t the table. She grabs the stack of letters from the table and clutches them against her chest, “…is to not be a part of this. Maybe Ethan will forgive you. Maybe he won’t. I doubt it will destroy you—you’ve got other women I’m sure. You’ve made your bed, lie in it like the dog you are.”

  “Emma…”

  Emma turns and heads towards the door.

  “Please…”

  She ignores the desperation in Brian Metcalfe’s voice and unlocks the door. She turns to look at him one last time in disgust. “Go to hell.”

  As the door closes she can hear the sounds of the man sobbing. She returns to her car and sits for a moment, gathering her breath. The encounter had taken a lot out of her—but she did it. She had confronted her monster.

  Emma retrieves her cell from her purse and clicks on Ethan’s number. It goes to voicemail. “Ethan…this is Emma—I just wanted to give you a call. I need you to come by as soon as you can. I need to talk to you. It is very important. Just, please come to the house as soon as you can.”

  *

  Emma rushes up the concrete stairs and opens the door to her house. She pauses before entering and she shields her eyes with her hand and looks up to the midday sun—it is unbearably hot. So hot, that a large black crow lies dead against the gravel of her driveway; a death likely due to heat stroke or lack of water. The air is so hot that it burns her throat and dries her nostrils with each breath she takes in. Unable to endure the heat any longer, Emma steps in and closes the door behind her.

  “Elizabeth?” Emma asks out to the quiet house.

  “I did it,” Emma adds. “I confronted him—“

  As Emma enters the kitchen she spots the necklace that she had given to Elizabeth sitting upon a folded piece of paper on the wooden table. Emma pushes the piece of jewelry aside and unfolds the piece of paper. It simply reads, ‘You’ve changed.’

  “Elizabeth!” Emma shouts as she makes her way from room to room in search of her friend. “You don’t understand. He was responsible for my father’s death—I had to do what I did.”

  “Please Elizabeth…” Emma whispers as she collapses upon the couch in the living room. Emma begins to wonder if she handled the situation correctly or not. There was no doubt in her mind that Brian did not directly kill her stepfather, but he was ultimately responsible. However, no more so than her own mother—she had not really thought about that. Elizabeth’s words came to her mind—something about leaving his family out of this as it would only cause them pain as well. Emma buries her face in her hands as she realizes, this was not the way that Elizabeth had wanted Emma to handle it. As she replays the way she acted towards Brian in her mind, she realizes that she was just as much a monster as he was. When he begged for kindness, she only offered him cruelty. Although what he did was terrible, he helped Emma in her worst times. Did he really deserve everything Emma had said to him? She felt so conflicted. Her stepfather was dead—there were secrets, terrible secrets. He intended to leave his family. Was it wrong to not want to be a part of his lies?

  “Elizabeth…I’m sorry,” Emma whispers as she begins to cry uncontrollably. She feels as though she has lost her only close friend. Elizabeth would have just wanted her to find answers, never threaten—never cast out so much hatred. Had she listened to Elizabeth and paused a moment, had breakfast, and thought it over, Emma probably would have come up with a more civilized plan of action.

  A knock came upon the door. Emma jumped up from the couch and made her way to the entryway. She hesitates in as her hand is placed on the door. It must be Ethan, she figures. However, she is no longer so resolute in revealing everything that she knows to him. She has to tell him something, after all, she left quite an urgent message. Emma lets out a heavy sigh as she opens the door. To her surprise it is not Ethan, but his father.

  Emma attempts to slam the door on the large man as he bursts into the entry.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Emma shouts as she attempts to flee.

  “Just stop for a moment,” Brian shouts as he tightly grabs a hold of Emma’s arm. “Calm down.”

  Emma’s back turned to her assailant; she twists her arm in an attempt to escape his bear-trap like hold upon her. She strikes blindly at him with her free hand. He quickly overpowers her and wraps his arm around her body tightly grasping her by her waist. Her attempts to struggle further are halted as she spots a steel knife against her arm. “I… I thought you weren’t capable of killing anyone.”

  “I have never killed anyone…” Brain says as he places the blade against Emma’s wrist. “You don’t understand. This is for your own good.”

  “Please don’t,” Emma whispers as she feels a piercing pain as the Brian runs the blade across her wrist. Her hand feels warm as blood begins to cover it. He then wipes the handle of the blade and places it in Emma’s lap as he gently lowers her to the floor. Emma feels weak form the blood loss as she attempts to dig out her cell phone from her purse that lies nearby. “Please…don’t leave me like this.”

  “Where was your sense of compassion earlier?” Brian asks as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, he places it over his hand as he drops the phone from the cradle, allowing it to strike against the floor, and dials a few numbers. “You aren’t going to die. I could never do that to you—I just won’t allow you to destroy my family.”

  “I’ll tell them the truth…” Emma mutters weakly. “When they get here, I’ll tell everyone you did this…”

  “Who will believe you?” Brian says as he steps over her and heads for the door. He pauses, and picks up the stack of letters that are resting upon a table by the door. “I’m at work, and you’re the one with the history of suicide and mental illness—good luck with that.”

  “You fucking pig,” Emma whispers as the door slams shut. Emma looks down to her wrist, the cut is deep. A pool of blood has formed on the floor around her. She attempts to inch her way to her purse. She manages to make it a short distance before she passes out.

  *

  7/26/12

  12:45pm-9:02pm

  MISSING TIME

  *

  Emma awakens to the sight of fluorescent white lights above her. She is lying against her back; an unfamiliar textured ceiling hangs above her. She groggily looks to her wrist—it is bandaged up. Worst of all, she is restrained. She knows her location by smell alone; it is a familiar, sickening, clean, terrifying hospital. She turns her head to face the line of three windows on the far end of the room. It is dark—she has no memory of coming here. Her last memory was of…Brain Metcalfe.

  “Help me…someone,” Emma says as she finds her words difficult to form. She feels as though she has been heavily sedated.

  A nurse that looks eerie familiar walks into the room. “You’re conscious, that’s good—we were worried for a while there.”

  “No…” Emma protests as she buries her face from the vision. “You’re not me.”

  “I understand that life can be really hard sometimes,” the nurse that bears her resemblance replies as she places a hand upon Emma’s shoulder. “You will get better—you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Is she awake?” A familiar voice asks.

  “She is not to have visitors,” the nurse replies as she attempts to turn the woman away.

  “I’m her therapist,” Dr. Riley says as she pushes her way past the woman and places her hand in Emma’s. “You can leave now.”

  “If you need anything just press the button.”

  “Just go,” Dr. Riley says firmly as she pulls up a chair and sits beside Emma. “Shut the door on your way out.”

  The nurse does as she is told, although she wears a sour look upon her face as she follows Dr. Riley’s orders.

  “Emma,” Dr. Riley comfortingly says as she squeezes Emma’s hand. “What happened?”

  Emma raises her head form the pillow—she is comforted to see a face that is not her own. “Dr. Riley…”

  “Yes hon,” Dr. Riley says as she nods. “Can
you tell me what happened?”

  “I’m not suicidal,” Emma says as she attempts to raise herself up a bit, but finds herself unable to do so due to the restraints.

  “Here, let me help you,” Dr. Riley says as she presses a button on the bed and raises it up a bit. “It doesn’t look good Emma—you dialed 911 and cut your wrist pretty badly. You had lost a lot of blood by the time the ENT’s arrived. What changed? They found a note that you had written, one that just said ‘you’ve changed.’ What does that mean?

  “It was Brian Metcalfe…” Emma protest weakly as she attempts to clear out her muddled head. “I confronted him about my father…well stepfather—and he begged me not to tell his son, but I… I said would do it. Then Elizabeth disappeared. I thought it was Ethan but it wasn’t Ethan it was his father.”

  “So you are saying that Brain Metcalfe—the one that helped you…” Dr. Riley said somewhat skeptically as she continued to hold onto Emma’s hand.

  “He said no one would believe me over him because I’m crazy,” Emma says as she begins to cry out of frustration. “But he was there…he was the reason my stepfather committed suicide.”

  “Do you have any proof of this,” Dr. Riley says as she attempts to calm Emma down. “Anything I can take to the police—I do believe you Emma.”

  “You don’t,” Emma says sadly as she shakes her head. “I don’t blame you for it, but you don’t.”

  “You do have to understand how this looks…” Dr. Riley says as she covers her eyes. “I mean you were making such progress, right? I’m not saying it’s not possible that you believe that this event happened—but there is a chance that it might not have.”

  “He did it because I confronted him—because I threatened to expose his affair.”

  “I’ll do what I can do,” Dr. Riley says as she lets out a heavy sigh. “I promise you, I will have the police look into it.”

 

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