These Things Hidden

by Heather Gudenkauf

  I want to say, I know. I know how you feel. I want to take his hand in mine and ask, Do you see her at night when you close your eyes? Does she cry out to you in your dreams and sometimes when you’re awake, even? Do people stare and look at you strangely because sometimes you think of her and you can’t do anything but stand there and cry over a little girl who didn’t even have a name? Do you ever wonder how your life might have been different if you weren’t in Linden Falls that night?

  Before I can say any of these things, the officer leans forward into my lowered window, putting his face so close to mine that I can see his eyes are the color of a husky’s, ice-blue. “I hear she got out of prison, your sister. She’s a sick bitch. It’s a wonder she didn’t kill herself for what she did. Don’t know how she can live with herself.” He hands me my license and a speeding ticket for two hundred dollars and walks away without a backward glance.

  I hate this town. If it weren’t for my father, I would never have even considered returning. I’ll see my father and mother. I’ll face Allison. Then I’ll be done with them all.

  Allison

  Brynn and I decide to meet at a restaurant that is within walking distance of Gertrude House. I get there twenty minutes before our scheduled meeting time, order a cup of coffee and try to read a book Claire lent to me while I wait for Brynn to arrive. The words sit on the pages and I can make no sense of them. All I can think about is whether or not Brynn will show up. I don’t hear her approach the table until her unmistakable voice says, “Allison?”

  I look up at my sister and she looks just the same as I remember. Small, with dark, unruly hair. She is dressed plainly, all in black. Dark eye shadow lines her eyes and stands out in stark contrast to her pale skin. She is biting her lip and looking down at me uncertainly.

  “Brynn,” I say, standing. I reach out to hug her. She is too skinny and I can feel the contour of her bones, thin and hollow like a bird’s. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming,” I say formally. I have to remind myself that this is Brynn. Just Brynn.

  She doesn’t answer. Pulling away from me, she settles into the booth across from where I was sitting. I sit back down and am suddenly lost for words. Thankfully, a waitress comes to take Brynn’s drink order. “Tea, please. Decaffeinated, if possible,” she requests. To me she explains, “Caffeine keeps me awake.”

  “Would you like to order anything to eat?” I ask her. “My treat.”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine,” she says, her eyes skittering nervously around the restaurant, landing everywhere but on me.

  “I’m nervous,” I admit to her with a little laugh. “Now that you’re here, I don’t know what to say. I have so much that I want to say, but I don’t know how to.”

  “That’s a first,” Brynn says, picking up her napkin. “You not knowing what to do.” There is no anger or meanness in her voice, but still her words hurt me.

  “Have you seen Dad yet?” I ask her.

  She nods. “He looks terrible, but the doctor says he should be okay.” We sit for several moments in silence. Brynn looks like she can’t wait to get out of here.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I’m really sorry.”

  “You’ve already told me that,” she says matter-of-factly, and begins to shred her napkin into thin strips.

  “I’ve written it in letters to you, told you on the phone, but I’ve never told you to your face.” Brynn continues to tear the napkin until it looks like confetti. “Brynn, please look at me.” I lean as far as I can across the table. She lifts her chin and gazes levelly at me, her eyes hard and unemotional. “Brynn, I am so sorry I put you in the position I did. I knew better. I made a stupid mistake and I dragged you into it. I know it doesn’t mean much after all that’s happened, but you helped me, you really did. I would have never been able to—”

  I stop speaking. Brynn’s face has gone rigid. She isn’t ready to talk about the specifics of that night. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry and I’m glad you’re here,” I finish. “Tell me about your classes. I want to hear all about them.”

  “I better get home before Mom starts worrying about me,” Brynn says, looking at her watch.

  “You’re staying at the house?” I ask, not quite able to keep the hurt from my voice. “Mom said you could stay there?”

  “What choice did she have?” Brynn snorts, sliding out from the booth. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just staying until tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Grandma’s.”

  “Already?” I ask in surprise. “You just got here.”

  “I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.” She has dark circles under her eyes and she keeps trying to hide her yawns behind her hand.

  I drop some bills on the tabletop and Brynn and I move out into the chilly night.

  “So are you going to tell me about him?” she asks abruptly. “That’s why I’m here, aren’t I? You could care less about Dad. You just wanted me here because you found the little boy.”

  “That’s not fair,” I say indignantly. “I’m very worried about Dad.”

  “Come off it, Allison,” Brynn snaps angrily. “You can’t stand that I’m going to stay at Mom and Dad’s and you’re stuck at some halfway house. You can’t stand that I’m the one doing well, the one that Mom and Dad are proud of now….”

  “Proud of you? Mom and Dad have erased you. Just like they erased me. Have you even been at the house yet?” Brynn’s face crumples. I know I should stop talking, but I can’t. “They removed every picture of you. Not just the pictures of me, Brynn. You, too.”

  “Whatever,” Brynn says halfheartedly, and I know I’ve hurt her feelings.

  “I’m sorry, Brynn.” I reach out for her sleeve to stop her from leaving and she jerks away from me, but not before I get a glimpse of the red scratches up and down her arm.

  “You’re sorry?” she cries in disbelief. “Do you know what I see each and every time I close my eyes at night?”

  “Brynn,” I say miserably. “I know. I see her, too.”

  “No,” Brynn says in a low, chilling voice. “I don’t think you do. And now you want me to meet that little boy? Her brother? You want me to relive this all over again?” Brynn shakes her head wildly.

  “I wanted… I thought…” I say lamely. “I wanted to tell you about Joshua. Show him to you.”

  “What do you think you’re going to do?” she asks sharply as we walk down the darkened street toward her car.

  “I thought maybe you would help me decide what I should do,” I say self-consciously.

  “Think about it, Allison,” she says, stopping suddenly. “There is really only one thing you can do.”

  I raise my eyebrows at the force of her words, her certainty. Brynn has changed. She wasn’t the indecisive girl I left behind five years ago. “I’m glad you know what I should do, Brynn, because I sure don’t.”

  “Is he happy?” she asks.

  “I think he is,” I say. “For the most part.”

  “Are his parents good to him? Is he safe?”

  “They seem like great parents,” I tell her.

  “Then what’s the big mystery, Allison?” She pulls her car keys out of the pocket of her jacket. “He happy, he’s safe and he has great parents. Why would you want to mess that up for him?”

  “I don’t,” I say defensively. “I don’t want to mess anything up. I just don’t know if I should quit my job or what.”

  “Or what, Allison? Stay in his life? What good can come out of that?” Brynn turns to face me, her hands on her hips. “Actually, I think it’s kind of selfish.”

  “Selfish?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I may be lots of things, Brynn, but how can you say I’m selfish? Haven’t I done everything humanly possible to try and make things right with you?” My voice is rising and people are stealing glances at us as they pass. I lower my voice to a whisper. “It makes me feel better, knowing where he ended up. Don’t you want to see him? Aren’t you even a little bit curious about how th
ings turned out?” Brynn doesn’t look convinced. “Just take a look at him. Stop by the store tomorrow sometime in the afternoon or evening. He’ll be there. It will make you feel better, too. I promise.”

  Brynn looks at me for a long moment. “I’ll stop by the store and meet him, Allison. But that’s all. I don’t want to get caught up in anything again.”

  “Thanks.” I consider hugging her again, but think better of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and thanks for coming.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll see if it was a good idea.” She turns to leave.

  When did she become so cold? Was this what life had done to her? What I had done to her?

  “Do you remember Mousie?” I call after her, and she stops, her back to me.

  She is still for several moments and then turns around. “Yeah,” Brynn says, “I remember Mousie.”

  Brynn

  I do remember. So stupid when I look back, but Mousie was the closest thing to a pet that I ever had when I lived at home. Our father traveled often for business and would bring home travel-size bottles of shampoo and lotion and small, thin bars of soap. I must have been four when I looked at that bar of soap my father brought home in a different way. I started carrying it around in my pocket and pretended to feed him pieces of cheese. I named him Mousie and he went everywhere with me. I slept with him at night and kept him near me while I played during the day. My mother would just roll her eyes and tell me to get the bar of soap off the dinner table and my father would give a sinister laugh and say he needed a shower.

  Allison, who was five, was the only one who took my attachment to Mousie seriously. She helped me make a bed for him out of a shoe box and helped me decorate the sides with pictures of mice and slices of cheese. Whenever Dad pretended to try and swipe Mousie from me for his shower, she would block his way and yell at him to stay away.

  As we grew older, Allison became the golden girl, the girl who did everything well, the girl who didn’t have time for her plain little sister anymore. I’m surprised that Allison remembers Mousie, surprised that she is still trying so hard to get back into my life. Maybe Allison has changed. Maybe she asked me to come here for the right reasons. Maybe things will be okay.

  Then I think about that little boy I’m going to meet tomorrow at the bookstore, and I think about his little sister, and I get that itchy feeling underneath my skin again. The one I can’t scratch away. I hear her crying and I start to hum to block out the sound, but people stare. So I get in my car and drive away.

  Allison

  I don’t know what I was expecting from my first meeting with Brynn, but it went okay, I think. She didn’t run away, she didn’t yell and scream at me. Brynn seems different from how I remember her. Harder, angrier. Not that I blame her—she has every reason to be angry. There’s something else, though. Something in the way she was tearing her napkin into tiny bits and then started in on mine. She kept looking over her shoulder nervously and every so often she would tilt her head to the side, as if someone was whispering in her ear. I think about calling our grandma to see what she thinks, but maybe I’m overreacting. I can’t claim to know Brynn anymore. I haven’t seen her in five years and people change. God knows, I have. I’ll see how she is tomorrow when she comes to meet Joshua and Claire.

  I know I have to take it slow with Brynn, but I think things are going to be okay. A new beginning, a new start. This is just what we need. We have the rest of our lives to become friends again. To become sisters.

  Claire

  The falling leaves, muted yellows, reds and browns, are being whipped around by a brisk gust of wind, illuminated by the streetlamps. It is unusually cold for September. The roads are shiny with moisture and the heavy, gray clouds are threatening rain again. Claire doubts there will be any more shoppers this evening. Even though the store is normally open until nine, she considers closing the shop an hour earlier. Joshua is playing with his Legos in the children’s section with the promise that he will pick them up quickly if a customer comes in. Claire watches Allison and Brynn, their heads bent closely together, whispering as Allison pulls sections of books from the shelves and polishes the wood with scented oil that fills the store with a pleasant lemony smell. “Feel free to leave for the night, Allison,” Claire encourages, but Allison insists on finishing out her shift.

  “We’re going out for coffee after I’m done. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up then,” she tells Claire, grinning broadly. Since her sister’s arrival, Allison is like a new girl. Her anxiousness, so prevalent the past several days, seems to have melted away. Claire is pleased for Allison, despite the fact that she senses things aren’t completely right between the sisters. Allison is trying too hard to please Brynn, who is aloof, distracted and seems to want to be anywhere but here.

  Claire feels a pang of homesickness for her own sister. She hasn’t talked to her in a while and decides to give her a call to do some catching up at home tonight. Claire’s mind swirls around the thought of a brother or sister for Joshua. She has such happy memories of growing up with her sister, of having someone to share secrets with, of being secure in the thought that her sister would always be there for her if she needed anything. At one time, she and Jonathan danced around the idea of adopting again. Seeing Allison and her obvious joy in being with her sister, and seeing some of the loneliness Joshua has in not having a sibling, makes her think she needs to broach the subject again.

  Claire hears the bell above the entrance jingle and out of the corner of her eye sees a girl walk into the store hesitantly, as if crossing the threshold is a momentous decision. It takes her a moment to recognize that it is Charm Tullia. Her brown hair, damp from the mist, is pulled up in a messy ponytail and her face is pale with worry. She is dressed up and wearing high heels. She pulls her blue jacket more tightly around herself as if the air within the store is colder than the air outside.

  “Hi, Charm,” Claire says. “How are you? I heard about Gus. Was the funeral today? I’m so sorry….”

  Charm nods and cranes her neck, looking around the store as if searching for someone.

  She walks slowly forward, still scanning the store. “Does a girl named Allison Glenn work here?” she asks, her voice low and hoarse.

  “She does. She’s in the back right now.” Claire studies Charm’s face. “Charm, are you okay? You don’t look like you feel well,” she says with concern.

  “I’m fine,” Charm responds offhandedly. “Do you think I could speak with her for a minute? It won’t take long.”

  “Sure,” Claire says in confusion. “I didn’t realize that you know Allison. Did you go to school together?”

  Biting her lip, Charm hesitates before speaking. “Allison and I had a…friend in common. I heard she worked here. I just wanted to get in touch with her.” Behind her, Claire hears footsteps and laughter. Before she can turn around, both Allison and Brynn stop abruptly.

  “Allison, there’s someone here to see you,” Claire says, instantly realizing this isn’t a happy reunion. As her eyes flick back and forth between the girls, she can see that all three look stunned. Allison puts a protective arm around her sister, who looks taken aback.

  “Allison?” Charm says, licking her lips. “Could we talk for a minute?”

  Allison looks around, her eyes darting from Charm to Brynn to the children’s section where Joshua is still playing. Claire can’t identify exactly what she sees momentarily skitter across her face. Panic? Fear? Maybe both. Brynn just looks like she wants to run away.

  “Allison?” Claire questions. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she says, nodding, her chin bobbing up and down too quickly. “Just surprised. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

  Claire looks questioningly to Charm and she responds with a brief smile. “It’s okay, Claire.”

  “Okay,” Claire says, unconvinced. “I’ll just go in back with Joshua and let you all talk. Brynn, do you want to come?” Brynn whispers yes and they move to where Joshua is sti
ll constructing his pirate ship, complete with cannons and planks, out of Legos.

  Brynn and Claire settle on the floor next to Joshua, not knowing what to say to each other.

  “I think it’s stopped raining. Let’s go outside and talk,” Allison tells Charm.

  Brynn

  Nothing good is going to come of this. I can’t believe I’m still here, in Linden Falls, in this bookstore with my sister who I never thought I would see again. Never wanted to see again.

  And then there’s Joshua’s mother. She is so clueless. She has no idea who has snaked into her family’s life. What would she do if I told her? What would she say if I piped up and said, “The girl who gave birth to your son is right here. Right here. The girl who drowned her baby. The girl who dumped the baby at the fire station. The girl who watched it all.” I want to feel sorry for Mrs. Kelby, but it’s hard to. I have very little sympathy for parents who turn their heads away from the truth.

  Allison hid her pregnancy well. She had the body for it—tall and long-waisted. She carried the extra weight evenly, not out in front of her like a bowling ball, like most women. My parents were off at some function for my dad’s work when Allison called out to me. Of course, I came running. It wasn’t just the fact that everyone came running when Allison called for them. There was something in her voice, something in the way she called my name, that told me something wasn’t quite right.