by Dara Girard
“Thank you.” Marie let her gaze drop, giving Catherine a moment to wipe an escaped tear. “It was so sudden and at night I dream and see myself digging his grave. But I know what that dream means, it’s just a guilty conscience.”
Sister, I’m here! Just wait a little longer. “You mustn’t blame yourself—”
Marie looked at her sharply, curious. “What do you mean?”
Catherine blinked recognizing her blunder. She’d revealed too much. “That your father’s death…it couldn’t be helped,” she said quickly recovering herself. Oh Daddy, I’ve missed you so much. Are you really gone? Why couldn’t you wait for me?
“I’m not Catholic and there’s no one for me to confess to,” Marie said. “But I have to get it off my chest to someone.”
Catherine nodded. “Go on.”
“I’m a fraud. I help people all day, people pay me and I can’t help myself. My life is shit.”
Catherine paused surprised by the coarse language and bitterness in Marie’s tone. “I don’t believe you.”
“You should because it’s true.”
“You are pretty, successful and—”
“I haven’t spoken to my family in over a year, I haven’t seen them in two. I can’t stand the lies.”
“Lies?”
She nodded, pushing her glasses up. “Yeah.”
“What is your family like?
“What family?” she said with a cynical sniff. “I’ve fooled myself into believing I had one for years. I did have one once, but I threw it away and I’ll never forgive myself.”
“How did you...what happened?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“I promised not to tell. It’s our secret and it haunts my dreams.”
But you came to me, you want to speak you just said so. “I’m good with dreams.”
Marie couldn’t help a smile. “I know. Maybe it’s my conscience that led me here. When I heard about you, I thought what the hell.” Her smile fell. “She was also good at this.”
“Who?” Catherine asked. She barely managed the word, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she felt breathless.
“My stepsister.”
“Oh, you said was...what happened to her?”
Marie closed her eyes and rubbed her head. “This is so hard. I can’t tell you, I can’t tell anyone because I promised but…”
“Because of what may happen to you?”
“Nothing will happen. There’s no proof, nobody can touch us, we got away with it and it happened thousands of miles away.”
Catherine paused at the unexpected words. Nobody can touch us? We got away with it? That didn’t make sense. “What?”
“Years ago I lost a sister.”
“She died?”
“She may be dead, but I don’t know that.”
“What happened to her?”
Marie bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m so ashamed at my cowardice that I let it happen.”
“I’m sure it was something you couldn’t have stopped.”
“I could have. I could have said something, done something to stop them, but I went along with the plan.”
“Plan?”
“Yes. My sisters and I were so full of jealousy that we sold our sister into slavery.”
Catherine stared at her tongue-tied and stunned. Sold!?! She’d been sold? She hadn’t been kidnapped for ransom? She hadn’t been taken by strangers? She’d been sold like an animal? Her sisters were the reason for her years of captivity? They’d been the reason for her days of hell, the beatings, the hunger, the cold, the loneliness? They’d been the reason she’d never see her father again? Why? Why? Why?
“The moment it happened I regretted it,” Marie continued, unaware of Catherine’s eerie silence. “Especially when I saw what it did to Mom. She nearly lost our brother when she had him premature and hasn’t been the same. Fortunately, he lived and she puts her heart into his well-being.”
Catherine didn’t know what to say. Her younger brother had barely survived? Did her mother even think about her anymore now that she had him? Did she know what her sisters had done?
“What’s his name?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Who?”
“Your brother?”
“Aaron.”
She gripped her hands underneath the table. “And why did you hate your sister so much?” she asked in a cool tone.
“It all seems so shallow now…but I feared she was taking my mother’s love away, Lorna thought she was trying to ruin her relationship with Greg, her boyfriend, and Joscelyn…she just didn’t like her, I guess. I never understood her reason.”
“And how are dey now?” Are they as miserable and guilt-ridden as you?
“They are doing amazing. Lorna’s happily married and expecting her second child and Joscelyn was just featured in a major medical journal and is doing well, plus she helps our mother run a family business.”
“Family business?”
“Yes, I don’t mean to brag, but my stepfather was a genius in that department and his skin care company continues to rake in millions,” she said with an indelicate hiccup.
Marie had clearly had more than she should have to drink, although she carried herself well, otherwise her tongue wouldn’t be so loose, revealing such information. “She just bought her second home,” Marie continued. Catherine didn’t know who she was talking about and didn’t care anymore. Marie’s words felt like acid being poured into her ears. This was not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear that after her father’s death they’d become destitute and had to beg on the streets. Instead, her father’s death had provided them with a comfortable living and they’d gone on to live well—forgetting her.
“And what do you do?”
“Besides hate myself every day?” Marie said with a cynical laugh.
“Yes…if you were ever to see her again what would you say?”
“That I was sorry, that every day guilt has been my prison. That I didn’t realize how much I’d miss her. I’d thought she was a nuisance, but then I liked the questions she used to ask me, the sound of her practicing at the piano, she was a natural. I remember how she used to make our parents laugh. Our mother has died a thousand deaths every year hoping that somehow she would come home. I wished we’d never given her hope and just told her that she was dead.”
“What was your sister’s name?”
“I can’t say.”
Yes, you can. “You should say it, you owe her dat much.”
“Catherine, poor little Catherine.”
“You pity yourself more than her.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “No, that’s not true. I hate myself every day.”
She believed her, although she didn’t want to. Her sister’s sadness was real and her tears tugged on Catherine’s heart. She wanted to shake her, she wanted to scream at her and she wanted to hate her, but she couldn’t. Marie hated herself enough for both of them, but that wasn’t enough.
Catherine lifted her hand and slapped her with such force that Marie had to grab the table to keep from falling out of her chair; her glasses clattered to the ground.
Marie blinked and stared at her, shocked. Before she could speak, Faye rushed into the room, but Catherine held up a hand, giving her a signal that everything was fine. Faye cast a nervous glance at Marie, then closed the door.
“Wh—what was that?” Marie asked, rubbing her cheek.
“Punishment.” Catherine came from around the table and picked up Marie’s glasses from off the ground. She handed them to her. “Now go and live a good life.”
Marie shoved the glasses back onto her face. “You think it’s that easy?”
Catherine looked into the grief-stricken gaze of her stepsister, compassion and rage warring within her. Your pity serves no one but yourself. You’re throwing your life away. Remember your poor little Catherine in the eyes of every girl whose life needs to be changed. And use y
our fancy, expensive education to help them. Say her name to remind yourself that you cannot change your past, but you can alter your future. She wanted to tell her all that and more, instead she said, “No,” then watched her walk out of her life, only later realizing that she’d never heard Marie’s dream.
25
“Did you hear what Marie’s up to?”
“What?” Lorna said shifting in her seat. Although she was only seven months into her pregnancy, she was already starting to feel uncomfortable and her sister’s fashionable chaise lounge seats made her back hurt, but she didn’t want to say anything. She sipped her tea and nibbled on a tiny, triangle-shaped cucumber sandwich, although she felt ravenous and could have eaten her way through a large pizza, breadsticks, chicken wings, and a salad with room left over for dessert.
“Did you hear about Marie?” Joscelyn repeated.
Lorna set her tea cup down on the coffee table and finished her sandwich. She eyed another seat wondering if it would offer more comfort. “No.”
“She’s gone off the deep end.”
She shifted again, discreetly rubbing her back. “How?”
“She decided to leave the cushy job Mom’s connection got her and left it to work with some non-profit to help runaways.”
Lorna grabbed a pillow to put behind her. It didn’t help. “Really?”
“But not just any runaways.”
Lorna removed the pillow and shifted again. “I see.”
“What is wrong with you?” Joscelyn snapped. “You’re hardly listening to a word I’ve said.”
“I am listening,” Lorna said, itching to move again when she felt a pinch in her side, but not daring to.
“Then why can’t you keep still?”
“It’s just this chair,” she finally admitted. She didn’t like criticizing her sister’s stylish apartment, but she had no other excuse.
“There’s nothing wrong with the chair. You’ve just gotten fat.”
Lorna gritted her teeth. Her weight was a sore spot and Joscelyn knew it. Unlike their mother, who had been able to have four children and bounce back to her trim figure after each child, Lorna hadn’t shed most of the baby weight from her daughter and now carried more weight than she wanted to into her second pregnancy. Fortunately, her doctor was pleased with her and Greg still loved her and that was all that mattered. “It’s baby weight. But that’s not something you would know about,” she said, letting her gaze skim across an apartment that lacked any sign of a man or child.
Joscelyn nodded, undisturbed by her sister’s words. She crossed her legs, something her sister couldn’t do with ease, and tightened the belt on her form-fitting wrap dress, emphasizing her slender figure. “There’s still time and I’ve had plenty of offers. Successful women aren’t as frightening to men as people like to think. “
Lorna reached for a cookie then thought better of it. “You can be such a bitch sometimes.” She stood and sat in the other chair, which offered her a bit more comfort, but that didn’t matter anymore when she felt like a fat, pale imitation of her glamorous older sister.
Joscelyn laughed. “Only sometimes?”
Lorna glanced up at a large abstract painting, ready to go home. At home she was the ruler and second to none. In her home she delighted in the sound of her daughter’s laughter as she played with her nanny, the smell of her husband’s cologne when he bent down to give her a kiss. She absently smiled as she thought of him. Her dear Greg. They had built the perfect life together.
“I’m sorry,” Joscelyn said with a sigh. “You look great. You always do.”
Lorna didn’t quite believe her apology, but no longer cared. She liked hearing the words anyway. She touched the emerald earrings Greg had purchased for her, then smoothed down the ends of her shoulder-length hair. Her hair stylist had complimented her on her beautiful skin. “Thank you. Now what were you saying about Marie?”
“She’s helping runaways involved in the sex trade.”
Lorna reached for the cookie, she was hungry. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. Mom’s having a fit. But she’s determined.”
Lorna shrugged, quickly finishing the cookie before grabbing another. “If that’s what she wants, so what? She’d always wanted to see the world.”
“She’s doing it here.”
“Here?”
“Yes, that’s what Mom told me. It seems some bleeding heart doctor at the clinic told Marie about the position. She said that Marie went on about how DC is one of the top destinations in the world for the illegal sex trade. In other words—slavery.”
For a moment Lorna felt sick as she finally understood why her sister had wanted to talk to her and the importance of Marie’s change of careers. “Think she’ll say anything?”
“I’m not sure. One of us should talk to her to make sure.”
Lorna sat forward, resting a protective hand on her stomach. She had to keep her family safe. “But she won’t talk to us,” she said, feeling on edge as she thought about all that was at stake. “She hasn’t been the same since…”
Joscelyn saw the look of panic on her sister’s face and offered her a reassuring smile. “I didn’t want to worry you, I just thought you should know.”
Lorna took a deep breath. How could she not worry?
“Even if she speaks, there’s no proof. It’s her word against ours.”
“Right,” Lorna said eager to believe her. “And it’s been so long.”
“Exactly. I may be putting too much thought into this. She’s always had a heart full of mush, maybe it would have happened anyway.”
Lorna nodded.
“But don’t worry, I’ll stop by and talk to her, just to make sure she realizes that we’re not the only ones with too much to lose.”
26
She had no home to go to.
Catherine sat on her bed with her knees drawn up, tears spilling down her cheeks, but she made sure not to make a sound in case Robbie or Faye came to check in on her. It wouldn’t be out of concern. And she didn’t want to see their flaccid, insincere faces.
All these years she’d survived in order to see her family again. But she had no family. There were no loving arms to greet her. Her sisters had hated her so much that they’d lured her into the van to be taken away? They’d sold her into slavery?
Her sisters had condemned her to this soulless, horrible life. And now her father was dead. And her stepmother had a son she could pour all her love on. Her return wouldn’t mean anything. Lorna and Joscelyn were doing well, better than well. They were thriving. They had education and families of their own. No one missed her. Marie spoke out of guilt and remorse, but had she ever loved her?
She had nothing to live for now. She’d worked with Robbie and Faye with the hope that she’d convince them to pay her and then she’d escape, but now she knew having a plan didn’t matter. There was no place to go to. No place to run. She truly was a nobody. Nothing.
Which meant she had nothing to lose. That thought gave her a renewed strength. She wouldn’t die like this. She would escape at all costs now. There was nothing to fear anymore. She didn’t care that she didn’t have any papers, that she had no one to trust, no money. Nothing mattered anymore except leaving this nonexistence behind.
Late that night, she gathered her few belongings and cautiously peeked into the hallway to make sure Robbie and Faye were nowhere about.
Unlike the Salako house, she knew the front door wasn’t double locked. She was free to go. They knew she was dependent on them, so never feared her escape. She went to Faye’s handbag and took whatever money she found—not much. After the first year they’d become lax about guarding her, so lax that she was able to walk out the front door without any trouble. No chains locked the door and when she opened it, no alarm bells sounded, although she moved slowly just in case she triggered something. When she realized nothing would happen—no loud noise would suddenly wake them up, no one would come out of the shadows and grab her—she cl
osed the door and walked down the quiet hall into a new life.
But she didn’t know what to do with that life. Her life had always belonged to someone else. She didn’t know what decisions to make, what choices to take. She found her way to a bus depot and bought a ticket, asking the woman behind the booth how far the money she had would take her. The woman looked at the meager amount and gave her the name of a place she’d never heard of, but it didn’t matter. Catherine just wanted to be away.
And an hour later, ‘away’ ended up being in the middle of nowhere. She saw no buildings or people. She’d debarked in the middle of a cross-section and all she saw were fields and the darkening sky above.
She started to walk, not knowing where she was going or caring. It started to rain and a chill wind plastered her wet clothes to her body, the muddy road soaking through her shoes. She silently hoped to catch a cold and die. As the miles stretched out behind her and in front of her, she remembered the last time she’d thought of death after Mrs. Salako had beaten her and she’d been in that cold room. But back then her anger had kept her warm. She didn’t have that now. Just the cold chill of despair. She walked from the road and wandered into one of the fields. Soon she found a place where no one would see her then she lay on the ground, closed her eyes and waited for death.
27
Marie closed the door of the non-profit where she worked, pulling the door tight against the autumn wind that was sweeping through the city.
“Want to grab something to eat?” her colleague and roommate, Clara Park, suggested.
“That sounds good.” She walked to her car in the nearly empty parking lot, then stopped when she saw her sister, Joscelyn, leaning against it. She took a deep breath, then approached her. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Joscelyn didn’t move, blocking Marie from unlocking the door to a car that had been manufactured in the previous century. “You’re better than this. You could make so much more—”
“Move.”
“You’re punishing yourself for no reason.”
