by Saul, Jonas
Why couldn’t I remember any of this? “Then why do you need me?”
“Because, honey, it’s a lot of money. I didn’t want to walk into the bank and do that kind of transfer without you in case they need your signature. Now let’s get this done, I’m tired.”
I remained seated. “You seem kinda short with me.”
“If I’m being short it’s because I’m tired and if I seem to be in a hurry, it’s because I am. Now let’s go.”
I checked his hair, his jacket, his shoes. As far as I could remember, he may well be my husband. Only his voice was off a little. At least those were better odds than the bald guy I was in bed with not twenty minutes ago.
I got up, dropped my half empty cup in the garbage and followed him outside. We walked in silence toward the bank until I asked, “did you pick up a cold when you were away?”
“Over the last few days I came down with something. It affected my voice some. Why do you ask?”
“It just seemed like your voice was different.”
We entered the bank. Alex told me to wait in a chair while he lined up. I watched him from where I sat and went over everything. I still hadn’t forgotten the man in my home. Why were the photo albums missing? Why would I cheat on my husband? I decided to examine that one. Since I knew I would never cheat, then who was the man in bed with me this morning? And why do I have no recollection of any talk about transferring money? I do, however, remember the new bank account, but nothing about transfers.
Alex got to the teller. He talked for a moment, pulled out his wallet and waited. The teller said something and he looked at me. He raised his arm and beckoned.
When I joined him at the counter, the teller asked for my signature because of the joint account status. I signed where I was supposed to and waited beside my husband.
When we first started dating, I asked the same questions over and over. I needed to get settled with him to be comfortable. He understood it then and he’ll understand it now.
“Alex, what city did we get married in?”
“What?” he looked sideways at me. “We married in Rome.”
He was right.
“Our anniversary is when?”
The teller handed him back his access card. She gave me a weird look.
“August 14, 2004. Now, can we continue this outside?”
He walked past me after thanking the teller. I smiled and waved at the woman. She looked away.
I decided to ask a different kind of question.
“Alex, have I ever miscarried?”
“What? Come on Mary, what kind of question is that?”
“A simple yes or no. Have I ever miscarried?”
His face scrunched in a scowl. Now I was afraid again. Outside the bank I grabbed his arm and spun him around.
“Answer me!”
He stared into my eyes a moment and said, “Yes.”
He was wrong. He was guessing. I can’t have babies. I can’t get pregnant. Only my husband knows this.
I backed away. My hands were shaking. My breath stunted almost like I was panting.
“Who … who are you? What have you done …?”
A car pulled up and honked. The guy who impersonated my husband ran to it and jumped in. They were gone before I could even think about reading the plate number.
I didn’t know what to do next.
Maybe the bald guy in my house was actually my husband?
I decided to get proactive. I ran back into the bank and told them that I had just been robbed. They called the police. When they showed up, I informed them of my face-blindness.
The cop said that that was why they probably used me so I could never identify them.
The bank manager got me a phone and set me up in a little cubicle so I could call home. A man answered. I recognized his voice immediately.
“Honey, you’re home,” I shouted into the phone.
“Mary, I’ve been home since two in the morning. Do you have your cell phone? I couldn’t reach you. And why did you take off running this morning?”
It was all coming together.
“When woke up beside you, you had no hair. What happened to your hair?”
“You don’t remember the deal I had with my brother?”
His brother was out on bail. His court date was this week some time. Alex was worried his brother was going to skip bail. He always talked about not being able to do the time.
“Refresh my memory.”
“I thought my brother wouldn’t have to go to jail and he thought he would, so we made a bet. If he got convicted, I told him I’d shave my head to show support.”
A thought surfaced from the deep regions of my consciousness. It started to nag me.
There was something I was missing.
“What happened to our photo albums in the cabinet?” Then I remembered that court was yesterday.
“I took them out when I got home last night so I could put a new shot of my shaved head in there for you. I must have left them on the kitchen table.”
A police officer motioned to me.
“Look, Alex. Something happened at the bank today. I don’t know how to tell you this so I’ll come right out and say it …”
The cop stepped into the cubicle. I kept my voice low. “Honey, I’m gonna finish here and then I’ll be right home. What I have to say will be better in person.”
I replaced the receiver and stood. The cop looked at his note pad, read something, and then glanced back at me.
“It looks like we’ve recovered your money. Since it was a transfer to another account, they just reversed the transfer. All your money is back in your account.”
I felt so relieved I had to sit. The officer continued.
“The man who did this planned on withdrawing the money by driving to another branch and taking it out. They tried to stop him at the John Street branch but we were too late.”
“Do you have any idea who it was yet?”
The cop looked at his notepad again. “The name on the account is Norm Macey. That name mean anything to you?”
My stomach dropped again. I lowered my head. That’s why he was familiar. That’s why I recognized the rectangular glasses. And his voice was almost the same as my husband’s voice. And now I know why he tried to rob his own brother. He tried to take our money so he could finance a run from the law. It also made sense that he knew the exact way Alex talks to me to remind me it’s him every day.
“Norm is my husband’s brother.”
The Chute
The earth is racing at me at a rate of two hundred kilometers per hour. It’s my first solo jump, or what some of the veterans call a ‘static line’.
I could feel the adrenaline rush as it coursed through my fifty-year-old veins. A firm tug told me my main chute was opening. I looked down and tried to locate the drop zone.
That’s where the difficulty started.
The straps caused a pain in my chest. My daughter’s voice came into my earphones. She was the ground coach today, guiding the jumpers to safety. She was also helping me celebrate my 50th birthday by skydiving at the school where she’s an instructor.
How come I’m still falling so fast? Why did they tighten the straps so much? My speed’s not decreasing. I started to panic. Wait, where’s my steering toggles? I’m supposed to guide myself to the drop zone with those things. I looked up and understood why I was still falling so fast. My chute appeared to be tangled.
Panic caused a toxic mix in my stomach. My face felt flushed as the air slapped my cheeks back. I felt my eyes bulging. My body was quite strenuously protesting this abuse. I started to ask out loud what I was supposed to do. I had just finished five hours of lessons, and I felt like I’d forgotten everything. My daughter sounded like she was screaming in my ear now, her words unintelligible.
The patchwork of farm land below had a life of its own as it raced towards me. I deciphered the words reserve chute in my daughter’s voice. She sounded like she was crying.
I gripped a dangling line and pulled. Nothing happened. I looked down. There wasn’t much time. My left hand felt something loose near my chest. I gripped it, and yanked. Another firm tug from behind, and I felt the violence from the air on my face decreasing. I couldn’t be a hundred feet from the ground. I couldn’t see the drop zone or the skydiving building anymore. I tried to scan the area but the trees cut off my view.
How do I land again? Do I lock my knees and ankles, or do I flare something? I felt trees and branches hitting me.
Then nothing.
#
I stand up and unclip the harness, letting it fall to my feet. I know they taught us how to fold and pack our equipment after the jump, but I’m leaving it right where it is. While I try to locate the skydiving building, I’m not lugging that thing with me. They can come back and get it.
How long have I been out? It’s dark now - the sun has dipped over the horizon. Why did no one come to get me? I touch my head and feel around for injuries. My searching hands come up empty.
When I turn around, I nearly jump out of my skin. A woman of about thirty years of age is standing behind a tree watching me.
“Are you lost?” I ask.
She turns to go without saying a word. I yell for her to wait, but she disappears amongst the trees.
I look up to get my bearings. I can’t see the North Star. I start to walk anyway, but I’m stopped in my tracks by the same woman from a few moments ago.
This time she’s standing out in the open. I wait for her to say something. After what feels like a few minutes, I blink and she’s gone. Now I’m getting scared. Who is this woman? Why won’t she talk? And why does she just watch me and then leave?
I put one foot in front of the other and walk into a clearing. Halfway across the field, I know that I’m going the right way. I can even see my car in the parking lot of the skydiving building. I look back toward the trees, and see my mystery woman. My feet falter and I stop where I am. There must be something wrong with her. I decide that this time it will be me who looks away. I’m going to be the one who disappears. With that thought, I turn around and quicken my approach to the base.
In a matter of moments I’ve reached the classroom door, but stop to watch when a car barrels into the parking lot. The car’s tires screech as the driver applies the brakes too hard. As soon as the engine stops, the door opens and a woman gets out. I watch as she stands by her open door and scans the immediate grounds. Then her eyes find me.
I now have another woman, whom I don’t know, staring at me and saying nothing. I look down at how I’m dressed. I touch my face looking for deformations. Maybe I’m covered in blood and don’t know it. Maybe I have a case of skydiving bends. I heard that scuba divers can’t come to the surface too fast, lest they get a case of the bends. Maybe I fell too quickly from the sky? Who knows?
I look away and open the door to where I took my classes earlier in the day. Ah, Alexia, my daughter is here. She’s crying. I thought I heard that on the headphones during my jump. I wonder what could be wrong.
“Is everything all right?” I ask as I make my way to her side.
Nobody responds to me. Something weird is happening. I kneel down in front of Alexia and ask her what’s wrong. I reach to take her hand but I’m stopped by the sound of the main door being banged open. It’s Owen, the man who taught our skydiving class today.
“We found the chute. He went down in a clump of trees about two hundred yards from here.” He pauses as he looks at my daughter. “I’m sorry, Alexia.”
He’s sorry. For what? What’s going on?
As I’m staring at Owen, confused by what he’s talking about, the woman from the car steps in behind him. Her face is a mask of horror, shock, and outright disgust. She takes in the whole room and stops at Alexia. Then her face turns a heavier shade of red.
The loopy woman from the woods steps in behind the car driver woman and whispers something into her ear.
“You,” the woman from the car says, pointing at Alexia. “Are in a lot of trouble, missy.”
Owen steps up to the woman. “Who are you? Can I help you? Were you here for a lesson?”
“Do you hear that?” the woman asks.
“Hear what?” Owen says.
“Listen.”
Owen appears to be listening.
“A siren?” Owen asks.
The woman nods. “Just wait till they get here. I’ll explain my beef then.”
The crazy woman is staring at me again. I have no idea why the police are coming. I just want to talk to, and console, my daughter.
“Can we help you?” I ask.
Both women stare at me. The driver one says, “not yet. It’ll all be clear in a moment. I witnessed your jump from the highway. I thought I’d drop by to clean this up.”
“Who are you talking to?” Owen asks.
“Mike, Alexia’s father.”
“Okay, that’s just rude. Get out. How could you say that?”
I watch as Owen turns his back towards me and tries to coerce the visitor to leave. Alexia stands up and tells Owen to wait.
“Who are you, and how could you possibly be talking to my father?” Alexia asks.
That is when I look to the right of Alexia and see the strange woman that hid quietly among the trees. She has moved inside the building, walked across the floor without me seeing her do it, and is staring at me.
“My name is Kramer, and I’m a psychic.”
The police sirens are closer now.
“Your father has died and I’m staring at him right now.”
“I demand to know what’s going on,” Alexia says, as she wipes her eyes. I can tell fear has gripped her vocal chords.
I’m feeling it too. I had no idea I was dead.
“There’s a woman here - her name is Joanne Stinson. She was killed a month ago during her first jump too. At least that’s what I’m being told.”
Both Owen and Alexia appear stunned. I can’t believe this woman.
I can hear police cars pulling up out front. Doors are slamming shut.
“Okay, maybe you should step outside,” Owen says.
“No way. I’m not taking my eyes off Alexia,” Kramer says. “Try me. Just try to remove me.”
Feet slapped the pavement outside. The door flew open and two policemen stepped in behind Kramer.
“She’s right over there,” Kramer says, pointing at Alexia.
Two officers hustle over to Alexia and grab hold of each arm. “Ma’am, please come with us.”
“Why? On what charge?”
“That’ll come later once we receive a full statement from Kramer, unless you want to offer a confession,” one of the officers says.
“Either arrest me, or get your hands off me,” Alexia demands.
“Ma’am, we can hold you for twenty-four hours without a charge and we intend to do that.”
“But why?” she asks.
Kramer steps forward. “Because of Joanne and your father. You folded their chutes, didn’t you?”
Alexia looks at Owen. I look at Owen. I can’t believe I’m hearing all this. The whole time, no one looks at me. Am I dead? Was I murdered by my own daughter?
Kramer continued. “Joanne found out about your plan to kill your father. Was it insurance money? Is that why you did it? You folded the chutes so they’d tangle, isn’t that right? You made the reserve chute useless.” Kramer shakes her head. “If it was for money, you may be rich now, but a lot of good that’ll do you in prison. I can prove what you did because I can talk to the dead. Joanne is here and she’s telling me everything.”
“Bullshit,” Alexia spits on the floor of the building. “I would never kill my father. I made sure those chutes were perfect. No way did I meddle with them. I’m no murderer. I’ll sue you for this.”
“Go ahead. I’m insured.”
I’m lost. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My own daughter wanted me dead, but every part of my being feels Alexia is telli
ng the truth.
“Kramer,” I say, hoping she can hear me. The two officers are leading my daughter away now. “Can you hear me?”
I see her look my way and then nod.
“I don’t feel Alexia did this. I know my daughter. She’s not capable of murder. She can barely step on an ant.”
