by Baigh Queen
“Is Brett here?” I question, glancing over my shoulder.
“No,” the manager replies. The tag on his shirt reads Carl, and his slicked back hair tells me he’s surprisingly serious about being the manager of a Starbucks in this tiny town. So serious that he’s threatening to kick me out.
“Small coffee, then,” I say.
Carl inhales through his nose and returns behind the counter. I follow to the register and pay, and he slides a cup towards me, filled with an inch to spare at the top. He says, “Have a good day.”
There is zero pep in his tone. So I nod, shuffle to the condiments counter, and make my usual, annoyed at myself for needing to look over my shoulder too much. If anyone thought I was paranoid before, I’m only proving it now. When I make it back to my laptop I just sip my coffee and eye the vehicle. I haven’t seen anyone get in or out of it yet, and after a moment of my hardened stare, the driver door opens.
A sleek black heeled boot touches the pavement, followed by a long red raincoat. Wavy black hair flips over a slender shoulder and only when the woman looks directly at me do I snap out of my daze. I look around the shop, wondering if there’s a small, teeny-tiny chance that she isn’t looking at me, and find that the entire shop is watching her. It’s hard not to; nobody so sleek has ever set foot in our town. Two women at the back of the store whisper to one another as the mystery woman looks back and forth on the street before slamming her door shut and moving across. I’m holding my coffee with both hands and as it begins to slip from my fingers I set it on the table. Even though it feels like I’m burning my fingerprints off with the flimsy paper cup I keep them there, hypnotized by the beauty that’s walking into the store.
Her skin is dark, and I can’t tell what ethnicity she is. Her eyes slant slightly downwards and there’s a lot of confidence to her walk. Power, actually. And that power doesn’t leave as she sits across from me, a gentle smile on her lips. A mask, I realize. Not gentle at all.
Fake.
I glance around and find that most of the patrons have tried to return to what they were doing, but their constant shifting reminds me that they’re just as uncomfortable with outsiders as I am. It’s not that Goderich is an unwelcoming town, we just don’t get people visiting.
“Can I help you?”
The woman leans in and I catch a whiff of vanilla from her. Or maybe it’s something behind me, I can’t tell. My brain is still in a funk since this morning between Bane nearly knocking my door down and my discussion with Manhattan and Tex. I’m not sure what’s happening is really happening.
The woman says, “My name is Oceane Song, but you can call me Osh.”
My brow furrows. “Oceane Song.”
“You can see why I suggest you call me Osh.”
I clear my throat and straighten on the wooden seat. “So, do you need something?”
“I’d like to talk with you, if you’ll come with me.” She nods her head backwards towards the SUV and I press my lips into a thin line.
“Aren’t you going to offer me candy first?”
“You’re the one with the candy.” Osh leans back and crosses her legs, a small statement that she isn’t going anywhere. Her red coat falls from her knee, and from the corner of my eye I notice a woman hit her husband hard on the shoulder.
My eyes fall to my coffee, still burning my fingertips, and I finally let go. I carefully shut my laptop and pack it into my bag before standing and picking up the coffee again. Osh watches me the entire time, completely at ease under the gaze of the store patrons.
“I don’t know who you are,” I tell her, “but goodbye.”
She inhales as I begin to walk away, and to my surprise she takes a moment before following. I make it to the corner before I realize my feet have taken me the path I normally take home.
Through the park.
The yellow police tape and orange barriers are still blocking anyone from getting too close to the site. But the black scorch marks and broken sticks and melted metal are out for anyone to view. I’m trying to see where the bench is, was, but it isn’t there. I’m not sure there’s anything left of it, actually.
“Quite the accident,” a smooth voice says in my ear. I flinch away, Osh standing at my side. She’s looking at the park as well.
“It wasn’t an accident,” I say automatically.
“Oh?” she asks.
“Damn right it—” I cut myself short and inch away from her. She’s standing annoyingly close, the same thing Bane does when he’s trying to be intimidating. I start to walk again, hopefully heading for somewhere with less...Oceane.
A hand slaps down on my shoulder and spins me around. I swat it away, taking a step back on my bad ankle as adrenaline surges through me. “Hey!”
Osh holds her hands up, a small white card in one. She holds it out to me.
I don’t take it.
“My card,” she says. “If you decide to take that ride with me.”
She gives me a wink as well, but when I refuse to take her card, and my body refuses to move away from her, she reaches for my hand and pulls it up. Osh places her card into my palm before turning and walking away.
All I can do is watch her leave, though I’m tempted to throw her card to the ground. But she didn’t do anything to warrant that, and I slip it into my pocket. When she’s finally in her car and driving away I feel like I can breathe.
“Weird,” I mutter. Maybe there’s more to Bane’s warning than I realize. I’m given no time to think about that, though, when I turn and nearly crash into someone. I let out a yelp, heart jumping into my throat, eyes squeezed shut and fist thrusting forward. It slams into the man’s chest and he exhales a low, “Oof.” But that’s it. No real damage done.
“You can open your eyes now,” the man says. Brett, I realize, before even looking. I’d recognize that snarky tone anywhere.
I don’t say anything and instead look over my shoulder to make sure the black SUV hasn’t come back.
“Who were you talking to?” Brett asks. He’s looking down at me without any real curiosity in his eyes. There’s no interest in his tone; it’s as if he just asked me what I want to drink.
“Uh, not sure,” I reply honestly. “Some woman.”
Brett’s brow lowers and he nods. “She looked pretty high class for this place.”
“Tell me about it.” I let out a shaky breath, my heart rate beginning to lower. My eyes fall to the ground as I rest my hands on my knees, careful with my injured ankle. “I dropped my coffee.”
Brett leans down, mimicking my position with a grin. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact I dumped a cup of coffee on his boots, and doesn’t move to get out of the puddle. “You did. Want me to get you another?”
“No, I need to get going.”
“Want me to join?”
“Uh…” Do I? “You might find it boring.”
“I love boring. I was valedictorian remember.”
“You were?” I question, straightening. Brett follows my lead.
“No, but I like that I could convince you of that.”
“I should have known better,” I say, brushing off imaginary lint from my shirt, “you did go to art school.”
Brett’s cocky smile falls a moment and I quickly add, “I’m just going to the hospital so you don’t have to watch me anymore.” It takes all my energy not to turn towards the park. I swear I can still feel the heat across my skin, the way my ears rang with both the explosion and the lullaby. I blink back to reality, realizing I’m staring at Brett.
“Is your ankle still bugging you?”
“No, I just need to find Lily.”
Brett tilts his head. “I’ll join you.”
I try not to mimic his movements too much. My palms are getting sweaty and I feel a fight or flight response in my chest that I always got before presenting in school. There was nausea too, but I’m not sure what that’s from. I don’t look around and start walking past Brett.
He follows, hands in
his pockets. After a few steps he holds one out to me. I only look at it and keep moving.
“Want me to take your bag?”
I shrug. “I’m fine.”
We continue in silence for about a block until Brett starts to talk about a book he’s been reading. It sounds like something a teenage girl would read, but he’s so lively as he talks about the characters I become invested. There’s a love triangle between a werewolf and a fairy and a young girl trying to discover what creature she could be. As he tells me the plot I don’t notice any pain in my ankle, and it isn’t until he gets to the climax of the story that I realize we’ve made it to the hospital.
We walk in the front doors, the smell of a freshly sanitized floor hitting me hard. I get dizzy from the scent and have to take a moment to get used to it. Thankfully Brett doesn’t offer me any help because if he did I’m not sure I could resist punching him hard in the stomach. There’s still that hesitant look in his eye, and his hands hover outside his pockets as if ready to catch me should I fall. To make myself feel better I cross my arms and tell him, “Give me a break already, I’m not some damsel in distress.”
“I know,” he replies quickly. “But you did have a head injury and you’re ankle is still swollen. And you have crazy eyes going on right now.”
I blink a few times. “Do not.”
“You do,” Dr. Torres says. I jump as she sidles up beside me, cup of tea in hand. “Lily had them as well so I sent her home. That and she mistook the coffeemaker for a cat.”
“Damn it,” I mutter.
Dr. Torres’s eyebrows raise. I try to stay calm but I’ve never been good at being patient. “Sorry, I just really needed to talk to her about something.”
“Your article, I presume,” the doctor replies.
My silence is more than enough of an answer for her. She goes on, “Lily was quite interested in it.”
I can hear the accusation in her tight tone. I’m the reason Lily had the crazy eyes this morning, and probably all of last night. I bite down on my lower lip before asking, “I guess you wouldn’t tell me where she lives?”
“I don’t know where she lives.” An honest, if not blunt, reply.
I give her my thanks and begin to turn away when she continues, “Oh, you may want to be on the lookout for a Filipino woman; she was in here asking questions a couple hours ago about you.”
“Me?” I ask.
“Her?” Brett questions at the same time. I glance at him for only a second before returning my attention to Dr. Torres.
“Yes, you Miss Weaver,” Dr. Torres confirms. “She was interested in your medical history.”
“You didn’t tell her anything, did you?” It’s Brett asking again, and this time I elbow him in the ribs. He holds his hands out as if to ask, “What?” He really doesn’t get when a girl tells him to stop taking the lead.
Dr. Torres waits for me to ask something.
I say, “She wanted to know about my concussion or something?”
There’s a moment of hesitation as the doctor’s eyes look to her mug, then back at me. “Yes, but she wanted more than that I think.” She shakes her head. “I told her I couldn’t tell her anything.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
She gives me a curt nod back before leaning against the counter and sipping at her tea. I leave the hospital, finding even stepping into the warming spring sun didn’t make my hands any less cold. I stick them under my arms and debate what to do, Brett still with me.
“You know where Lily lives?”
He shrugs. “I’ve seen her walking her cat up by Sherway a couple times.”
“Her cat?”
“Her cat.”
I roll my head back and groan. “Sherway is so far from here.”
“You shouldn’t really be walking on that ankle, either,” Brett reminds me.
“Thank you Doctor,” I mock. When he doesn’t give me a sassy comment back I release the tension from my shoulders. “Maybe this is a sign.”
He quirks one brow. “A sign for what?”
“I have no idea, but that’s what my mother always says when something she doesn’t like happens.”
“Why do you want to talk to Lily so bad?”
With my head still leaning back I roll my eyes to look at him. “Why are you following me around so much?”
“Guess I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” he tells me. Then with a cheeky grin he adds, “Or arrested.”
I’m not sure if it’s my ankle, the numerous stares from neighbours, or the woman that just forced her phone number on me, but I’m not amused. For all of Brett’s charming attitude, I can’t deal with it today. “Would you just stop?”
I hate that his smile falls, but he brought this on himself. Following me around like I’m some glass doll about to break at any moment—it’s strikingly familiar. And it makes me feel like the most useless person in the world. “Just...I’m going to go find Lily. By myself.”
Brett’s mouth opens but I cut him off. “Goodbye, Brett.”
Chapter Nine
Mom always told me that I had a knack for being mean. Dad said I just needed to learn to be tactful. I never really cared for either of their opinions on the subject, and did my best to ignore them but now their voices are all I can hear. My mother is saying, “He was just being nice.” While my father comes in with, “He wanted to help you, that’s a good thing.”
I huff and swat at a stone on the sidewalk with one crutch. Being nice didn’t mean Brett had to treat me like a toddler learning to walk. I let out a huff, wondering how I’m going to find Lily, and just what state she might be in when I do.
As a familiar fatigue begins to weigh on my body my eyes fall on a nearby bench. I think of the hat, the song, and the sound of children running before I just lower myself on the concrete and sit on the sidewalk, stretching my injured leg onto the road. It’s cool and hard, and a hundred times better than any bench.
I rest my head in one hand, propping my elbow on my knee. This neighbourhood looks exactly like mine; nice green lawns with well-maintained gardens, welcome signs on almost every doormat, and open windows. If I walk up to one of the houses I’m sure they’re unlocked, and if I walked in nobody would be scared. It’s easy to understand why people here would be so confused about a bombing.
Of course, like with everything, nobody believes something terrible could happen in their town. Their town, unlike the rest of the world, is perfect. I lean back, pressing my palms to the ground and letting them sting. The small scrapes I have are a good reminder that I have something more to worry about than Brett’s feelings. Or my own feelings for that matter.
I’m sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for some kind of sign to point me where to go when a police car comes up the hill. It’s going slow along the pavement and my stomach flips in anticipation. I never used to get this feeling but ever since Bane became Sergeant I knew there would be trouble. As the car comes to a stop in front of me, narrowly missing my foot as I leave it exactly where it is on the road, I know who is inside.
The driver door opens and I’m waiting on the other side. I try to keep casual, but prepare for another scolding from the law. Bane steps around the front of the vehicle, full uniform and gun on his hip. The way his hand stays near it unnerves me, and makes him look more like an officer of the law than I’ve ever seen him.
“Good morning again, Sergeant.” I crane my neck back to look, feeling smaller than I liked, as he stands beside me. I don’t want to move; it feels like I would lose something if I do.
“You haven’t taken it down.”
“I haven’t read through everything yet,” I reply.
Bane looks around the area, turning his large body to check out the elementary school nearby, the row of houses across the street, and the mailbox on the corner. When he faces me again he says, “So you’re just sitting here?”
I nod. “Looks that way.”
“Why?” There’s curiosity in his tone. I tilt my head to eye
him, wondering what the catch is. Bane isn’t one for curiosity; at least that’s what I’ve always thought.
“I’m waiting for a sign, if you must know.”
There’s a sound that escapes his throat, halfway through a laugh that he tries to disguise as a cough. He brings a large fist to his mouth and turns away. “A sign huh? For what?”
“I need to talk to Lily.” I stand, a little shakily, and brush the dirt from my pants. “I don’t know where she lives though.”
Bane nods his head back and to the right. “That way.”
I pull back.
“I was heading over there,” he announces.
I try not to fall over with surprise. It’s even harder to stay balanced when he steps towards me and opens the passenger side door and motions me in like a chauffeur with his other hand. All I can do is watch him, waiting for the cuffs to come out.
Bane sighs and says, “I swear on my mother’s grave that I am actually going to Lily’s place.”
I look him up and down, waiting for something in his demeanour to change but it actually appears genuine. So against my instincts I slide into the passenger's seat of his cruiser, choosing to keep my eyes on him rather than the assortment of technology on his dashboard.
His car smells like lavender, a subtle and sweet scent coming from a small package of incense sitting in his cup holder. It's leaning against the black interior and crackling police radio I almost think I’m imagining it. Bane shuts the door and moves around the vehicle, climbing into the driver’s seat.
I don’t bother putting my seatbelt on and just cross my arms as he starts to drive. He doesn’t wear one either, and I realize it’s because Lily only lives two blocks away. We park on the left side of the street facing the wrong direction, and there’s a large white pickup truck a few doors down, where a man is mowing his lawn. It’s the only sign of activity on the street.
When Bane reaches for his door I open mine quickly and get out at a crawling pace. Where’s the other shoe that should be dropping on me right about now? It doesn’t come. Instead Bane tells me, “This is it.”
