by P. Wish
“That sounds like a plan.”
“What did you do over the weekend?” Oliver asked, then paused.
“The funeral,” Jane said.
“Sad,” Mr. McEwan remarked.
“I’m glad we could all go and pay our respects, though,” Oliver said. Jane nodded.
“It’s been a long week,” Jane said.
“It must’ve been crazy for you. You started last week,” Mr. McEwan said.
“I feel like I’ve been here forever,” Jane said.
When breakfast ended, Jane walked out with Oliver.
“You have classes in the morning?” Oliver asked. Jane nodded.
“You didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, noticing his tired eyes.
“No. Insomnia,” he said.
“Oliver, can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m wondering if you’ve had any experience with students who are being bullied,” Jane said.
Oliver stared at her for a moment.
“I thought I’d ask,” Jane said. “Well, have a good day.”
“I—I knew somebody like that,” Oliver said. Jane listened. “Adolescence can be hard. People are finding themselves, and that isn’t easy. There are so many things you could be. So many things that you want to be, so many paths you could take, but the one you hate the most is chosen for you. And what you really need to do is just accept that.”
“You make it sound more horrible than it is.”
“It’s how we all felt. You have to understand the cause of the problem,” Oliver said.
They reached the end of the corridor. “Thanks for the advice,” Jane said.
“No problem.”
A door opened. She saw Jack emerge. His clear blue eyes looked at her before they turned to the carpet. There was no hope in them. Jane broke out into goose bumps.
“Good morning,” Jane said, swallowing the bile that was rising in her throat. And, the reel of her memory began to turn.
She closed her eyes and saw Charlie. He lay in the open bedroom of her two-bedroom London flat that smelled of leftover pasta. The night lamp was on, illuminating her fourteen-year-old son’s face. Charlie’s chocolate-brown eyes were closed, his brown eyelashes fanning his cheeks. His body lay against the wooden dresser, his fingers curled over a bottle. White pills were scattered on the floor.
Jane rushed to his side and picked up the bottle of pills. Her heart thudded. Hysterical, she pulled the dresser drawers open. There it was. A bottle of Prozac.
How had he gotten it? Where? How long had he been using it?
The revelations stuck her like a storm. On Charlie’s hands were a gradient of cuts, some healed, some fresh and some fading. She gulped, tears streaming from her eyes. His lips were chapped and dry. His eyes were lined with bags. She had failed to notice those signs for two years. And she was supposed to be a detective. She was supposed to be observant.
“The ambulance will be here in five minutes,” Ben said, his voice brusque. Jane bent over to carry Charlie. She touched her son’s pale hands, desperately hoping to feel his pulse. There was none. His heart had stopped beating. She didn’t bother to wipe the tears that flowed down her face. She touched her son’s hands, feeling the cuts that ran across his arm. She touched each of the scars, feeling its depth and texture. The pain soaked through her heart. Her son had been suffering for so long and she’d had no idea.
“He’s…dead,” Jane pronounced, the salty tears staining her tongue. Ben placed Charlie on the bed. His eyes were moist. They looked at him lying on the floor. Her throat was tight. She sunk to the floor, her hands resting over her son’s lifeless ones. “Ben, he killed himself.” Jane’s voice broke.
She curled against the dresser as her cries grew louder.
“How…? Why…? Oh God.” She closed her eyes. Ben didn’t comfort her. Instead, he looked at her, searching for an explanation. It was her fault.
The door thudded shut, breaking her line of thought. Jack was no longer standing before her. He had gone into the dining hall and she was standing at the door, with the spring breeze blowing on her face. Jane looked at her dark eyes and broke away from the door.
Jane swallowed. The blurry scene painted with lights and colors became clearer. She shouldn’t have taken two sleeping pills last night. It was messing with her mind. Concentrating hard, she walked towards the main building.
When she got close to the back entrance of the building, she turned around away from the main door and followed the shadow of the trees to the back door of the building. In the distance, she saw Mrs. Wolverhampton, smoking outside the door. A cloud of grey smoke dissipated into the sunny day.
Jane inched closer. Mrs. Wolverhampton looked the other way. She was talking to herself, spouting silent words that exploded with air. Her hands swung sharply. It appeared as if she was poking something. Her thin skin clung to her bones. The skin around her eyes was considerably darker and her collarbones protruded. Mrs. Wolverhampton released a puff of smoke that remained in the air.
“Good morning,” Jane said, startling her. Mrs. Wolverhampton dropped the cigarette and turned around.
“Jane…I didn’t see you coming,” she said. Her shoes ground the cigarette butt, burying it in the damp soil. It wasn’t the kind of thing Jane expected the prim and proper principal to do. She coughed, squeezing out the grey smoke from her lungs.
“I was on my way to class,” Jane said.
“Hmmmm…” Mrs. Wolverhampton shot her a worried glance. She cleared her throat.
“Are you all right?” Jane asked, observing her hollow expression.
“Ummm…Yes. What could be wrong with me?” Mrs. Wolverhampton said, brushing her hair away with her bony knuckles. Her palms slid over her temples, subconsciously massaging them. Jane remained, waiting for an answer. Mrs. Wolverhampton looked up at her.
“There have been so many calls about the incident. Two students withdrew from school this week,” she said, her voice hoarse.
“I had no idea—”
“Our reputation’s gone downhill because of the incident. Parents seem to believe Mr. Greene was murdered by someone from the school.”
“What?” there was no surprise in Jane’s voice, just pure formality.
“You know the detective found a note?”
“Hmmmm…I heard about it.”
“I wish he’d let things be.”
“The suicide, you mean?”
“He wrote it down for us. It’s sad but what can we do?”
“Do you believe it?”
“Do we have a choice? It was in his handwriting. He must regret something he did.”
“Ummmm….”
“The detective insists he must find what happened. We have no choice but to cooperate but….it isn’t easy.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jane said, noticing the distress that lined Mrs. Wolverhampton’s face. “All we can do is hope for the best.”
“St. Anne’s has always had a reputation for attracting the best talent. Two deaths in five years…I never thought I’d live to see this.”
“Once your reputation is damaged, it’s going to take some time to rebuild it.” Her blue eyes stilled. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. This first week has been overwhelming for you.”
“Oh no… the sooner things are resolved, the better,” Jane said.
Mrs. Wolverhampton exhaled. The smell of fading cigarette smoke mingled with the crisp country air. Jane glanced at the park ahead. It was a grey day. There were no students out in the park. In the distance, she saw the tennis coach running. Twelve students had shown up for practice that morning.
She turned to Jane. “Isn’t it time for class?”
“Oh, look at the time,” Jane said. “I’ll see you around.”
She rushed into the main building. As she walked through the corridor, her mind remained on Mrs. Wolverhampton. The corridors were filled with high school students who walked up and down. The library was beginn
ing to get crowded.
Jane turned where the stone pillar met the wooden paneling on the wall. The long corridor lined with rustic chandeliers emerged before her eyes. Her feet trailed across the green carpet. The murmurs in the corridor died down.
She opened the door and stepped into the classroom. Her eyes darted to the group of boys gathered at the back of the room. On seeing her appear, the crowd cleared. Jack sat in the corner of the room on a solitary seat overlooking the window. A Band-Aid was pasted on the cut that lined his face. His eyes turned to her, trembling. The boys sat on the empty seats near his. Melissa looked up from the front row.
“Good morning,” Jane said, placing her books on the table.
The students turned to her, but she saw Jack turn away. His overgrown brown bangs cast a shadow on his face. His hands were covered with the sleeves of his cardigan. He was back. That meant his wound was doing better. She felt relief flood her body.
Jack looked up. Everybody was staring at him. Jane noticed that he started fidgeting with his fingers and avoided eye contact.
She turned on the computer, which took a while to boot up. When she finally got to the St. Anne’s staff login, she had trouble remembering her password. Five minutes later, she’d finally figured it out. All the while, her mind was on what Oliver had said. She needed to find out what was going on at St. Anne’s.
“All right. Let’s begin,” she said when the screen lit up. She turned to the screen and the class began.
***
As sure as day, Gary Myers came around at 10:00 a.m. Dressed in a North Face jacket, Gary emerged from a Ford Mondeo plastered with Kent Police stickers. An almost burned out cigarette hung in his mouth as he walked towards the main building. The sun was still bright in the sky. He walked towards the main building, passing the marble fountain. He chucked the cigarette into the ashtray on the bin a meter away from the fountain. He bumped into Mrs. Wolverhampton on his way into the building.
“Good morning,” he greeted Mrs. Wolverhampton.
“Wrapping up the case?” she asked, expectant.
“Not really.”
“It’s a beautiful morning.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“I was wondering if you needed any assistance.”
“No, not today.” He said.
“Have a good day, then,” she said, walking towards the garden.
Jane stood at the door of the main building, waiting for Gary Myers to walk over to her.
“Good morning,” he said, turning to Jane.
“Good morning, Detective” she said. “Nice weather today.”
“So, we’re back to being strangers?” he asked.
“We’re not strangers,” Jane said.
“Then why’re you calling me ‘Detective’?”
“Isn’t that what everybody calls you?”
“Jane, we’ve known each other for more than a decade.”
“All right, Gary, good morning.”
“Better.”
She followed him into the building. “How’s the case coming along? Any progress?”
“Depends on how you look at it,” he said, tilting his head.
“You know, if the case isn’t resolved in the first forty-eight hours, the prospects of it being solved begin to diminish?” Jane asked.
“Jane, this is Tenterden, not London. It takes a week to get a postmortem report here!”
“You’ve adapted, I see.” Jane said.
“I have, in many ways. How’s this place treating you so far?” he asked.
“Not bad. I like it here.”
“You’re the first person to say that.”
A moment of silence passed. “I’m sorry about the funeral,” Jane said. “I don’t speak about Charlie’s death very often, at least not to people I know.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
Jane smiled and their eyes met. Gary took a step away and then turned.
“Jane, do you want to go out for a coffee sometime?” he asked.
Jane looked at him, surprised.
“Coffee?”
“Tea, then.”
“Gary, you’re not—”
“We have a connection,” he said.
“You know how it ended last time!”
“Technically, we never ended things, as you pointed out.”
“You left me a letter. That’s all. And, you disappeared. No number, no address….nothing.”
“You could’ve found out.”
“Why would I?”
He didn’t answer. “I didn’t meet you in person. So, it means we’re still together, right?”
“I’m not sure what ‘together’ means anymore. We haven’t seen each other in a decade!”
“We weren’t serious the last time.”
“I was on a rebound after my divorce.”
“I know. That’s why I ended it. But things are different now.”
“I’m not ready for this. You know-”
“I am.” His eyes were intense again.
Jane exhaled. “I’m not the same. You must’ve noticed.”
Gary nodded. “I’m not pushing you. It’s up to you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s a cafe down at the railway station where I go on Saturdays. You’re welcome to join me if you change your mind.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“Well, I’ll have the old ladies’ company,” he said as he began to walk away. Her insides constricted with a mixture of guilt and longing. She desperately needed someone to lean on, and Gary fit the bill. He knew her, and he knew what she was going through. He understood her. But she couldn’t get herself to rely on him. She was fighting this battle with herself. And she needed to win.
***
After almost six months of having a strange ‘no-name’ relationship with Gary, Jane thought they’d reached some kind of understanding. You could even call it a relationship. They’d set their boundaries and decided to stick to meeting each other only when they really needed to.
She was on a rebound and well, he, he was Gary Myers. Gary Myers would never inspire confidence in the serious types but then again, she wasn’t looking for anything serious. So, for the both of them, it seemed like the perfect relationship. However, since that drunken night a year ago, some things had changed. Almost everybody in the homicide unit knew they were together and Jane had gotten used to being asked about Gary all the time.
Though their relationship was special, they had realistic expectations. That was the advantage of dating someone as jaded as Gary.
He understood the most broken part of her but didn’t judge her. She was sure he had his own issues but theirs wasn’t the sort of relationship where you talked about those. They remained aloof enough to not form any sort of attachment. She thought their relationship was purely physical but over the past six months it had grown into something more. He had a sense of humor that brought light into her burdened life. And, god knew she needed that light in her life right now. She needed to find herself again.
After the divorce, she struggled to balance her work and personal life. She had never had to look after Charlie alone. Ben had always been there for him when she worked late. She missed having someone to lean on. But, she didn’t regret her decision. That fateful Spring morning, she came to work, as usual and Gary wasn’t in.
“Hmmm….do you know where Gary is?” she asked Mark, who was the first to get to work.
He shot her a blank look. “He’s been transferred to Exeter. He left.” Mark said. Jane must’ve appeared to be shocked because he continued, “He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Her heartbeat sped up all of a sudden and she stared at Mark who was just as shocked as she was.
“I thought you were….”
“We were,” Jane blinked. “At least I thought we were.”
“You know him. He’s always been like this.”
“Rude?”
“Noncommital. He doesn’t form emoti
onal attachments.”
“Of course, I know…..”
At that point, the only thing Jane was glad about was that the person who broke the news to her was Mark. Mark was one of her oldest colleagues and her first supervisor. They shared a special relationship.
“When did he leave?”
“It’s been two days.”
“Over the weekend?”
Mark nodded. Jane had gone to Cambridge with Charlie that weekend to see her father who wasn’t doing well, health-wise.
The door burst open. Harry walked in.
“Good morning.” He said, cheerfully, unaware of the tension in the air.
Mark smiled at him and went into his office. Jane, still shocked, sat down on her chair and stared at the computer screen.
“Jane, Gary told me to give you this.” Harry said. Jane turned around instantly. In his hand, he held a letter sealed in a white envelope.
“Thanks.”
Jane tore the envelope open.
I didn’t want to make it hard for us. This is my goodbye. I wish you well.
– Gary
The letter was just like him- only three lines. She never saw him again, nor heard from him on the phone. That chapter of her life ended quickly. In three days the shock faded and it became a distant memory. The drudgery of life covered the traces of their short lived relationship and it seemed like it had been a long dream that she’d since woken up from.
***
At 5:00 p.m., Jane sat in her office with an aching head. She was done grading the pile of papers that sat on the desk. She heard a knock at the door. Before she could react, the door opened and Mr. McEwan stepped into the room. He wore a dark sweater under his jacket. His scanty silver hair stood up on his head. He had a box of tools in his hand and a screwdriver in his shirt pocket.
“Sorry, I thought you had left,” he said, beginning to close the door.
“Please come in. I was just about to leave,” Jane said. She turned off the monitor and stood up. Mr. McEwan flashed a smile at her.
“I came to check the fittings,” he said. He closed the door, and when he did, a screw fell from one of the hinges onto the floor.
“Hmmmm…looks like the screws have come loose,” he said. He rolled his sleeves up and crouched on the floor. Jane’s eyes fell on his hands and arms, which were covered with green tattoos. Mr. McEwan pulled the screwdriver out of his pocket and began tightening the screws.
