What Lies Within

by Clare de Lune

  Ti just put her head in her hand. "Stop."

  The friendship felt artificial now. She looked at this person on her green Papasan chair.

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Seriously? Your father scares me. So does Sophia."

  “Sophia? Why?”

  Tamara sighed.

  “I think she must have had a thing for me before I changed. She followed me around a lot. Then Katrina hit, I had the surgery and wanted to completely reinvent myself, get away from New Orleans and all this gay prostitution Claude pushed me into doing. I tried to get away, but you cannot get away from those people, Ti. Sophia followed me out here and they offered me a good deal of money to run Daily Grind as cover-up income for them. I didn’t ever feel like I had much of a choice. That’s what I’m saying—”

  Ti cut her off. “Why did you come back?”

  “Just let me finish. I did want to come and check on you. I really do care about you, Ti. I mean, that day he barged in and pummeled my face, I wanted to contact you so badly to tell you to stay away from him. He is nothing like you. And stay the hell away from that Sophia woman, too. This whole thing scares me and I think we should leave."

  "What about the police? They're actually looking for you, you know. They think you're dead, or that you know something about this case and probably about Claude."

  "That's exactly why I should leave. Come with me. If you have a passport, I know of someplace we can go. I have money and a really passable passport. They paid me a lot more than what you saw on that report. Cash."

  Ti avoided that for now. She wanted to go back to New Orleans and John, but there were a lot of loose ends here. At least it was familiar. "I'm taking care of Sophia's cat. She's in...I don't know where she is. I think she said it's some family related thing."

  Tamara looked puzzled. "You're what?"

  "Taking care of Argie. She has a cat. I go over there twice a day to feed him."

  "I can't believe you didn't tell me that right away. That's fucking crazy. Where is she? Did you look around?"

  "I don't know where she is. Something family related, I think. And I did look around. I looked around your place, too. I found all the bills from the company. Maybe if we hand everything we have over to that Black guy, he'll nail Claude--"

  “Why are you all of the sudden so interested in cooperating with the cops? Did you fuck that cop or something?”

  Ti froze in mid-sentence. Damn Tamara and her intuition. The silence cut through the air like a knife. "I don't know what to say. It just happened."

  "Wow. Okay. I don't know whose side you're on, but I'm basically an accomplice here. I can't just go to your boyfriend and tell him everything so you can live happily ever after with some dumbshit cop and my boss's possibly equally screwed up business partner. She's creepy and she'll come after me or the cops will find good reason to. Or Claude will come beat the shit out of me again. Or kill me, like the others."

  Ti said nothing. She looked at the carpet and at Tamara's boots.

  "I just can't believe everything connects so easily. You knowing my dad and Sophia."

  "It wasn't all so random, honey. Your dad made me look out for you. I guess, in some weird way...maybe he loves you? I don't know."

  "I think he's a murderer. I think he has something to do with the murders and the disappearances. I just have a feeling."

  "Have you called John and talked to him about it?"

  Ti surprised herself by laughing. "No. I don't really know why. He'd tell me to come back to New Orleans."

  "So go. You're probably safer there."

  Ti just kept looking at Tamara's boots. She felt like she had unfinished business here in San Francisco. She couldn't quite explain it. "What if I just confront him?"

  "Claude? Why? Just let the cops figure it out."

  "I think I should. I feel like I have old demons that need purging. You wouldn't understand."

  Tamara gave her a long, measured look. "'You wouldn't understand.' Look, girl. I've been through things you’ll never even begin to understand. Try getting people to take you seriously. Try getting your family to understand. At least John is like a father to you. I can barely remember the last time I spoke to my parents. You're judging me because I worked with your dad. Well, I didn't have a lot of choice back then. I looked like a man in drag back then, and he gave me a chance at least. No one else did. I had to do some things I didn't want to do and I'm not even telling you the half of it, but at least I had work. Those operations are expensive."

  "And you just had to have it done and had to work with my father."

  "Fuck you," Tamara spat. Ti had never seen that look on her face before. It freaked her out. "You know nothing about what it feels like to be in the wrong body. It's scarring and traumatizing."

  Ti said nothing. Tamara stood up and slung her backpack onto her shoulder. "The flight I want to take leaves soon—”

  Tamara looked down at the floor and Ti thought she saw a look of guilt pass across her friend's face. "Ms. Mona says she'll watch Jo whenever. I'll give you her number. I'm sure she'll watch Sophia's cat, too."

  Ti waved her comment away. She just wished she'd leave.

  Tamara sighed but continued. "Thank you. I'm sure you'll tell that detective about our visit, so I'm not telling you where I'm going. Please be careful. I still think you should leave."

  "I care about Sophia. I think I can save her from him." Now, she really looked Tamara hard in the face. "I want Claude's number. You must know how to contact him."

  "She's not your mother, Ti. You owe her nothing."

  Ti bit her lip and stared at the floor.

  "You owe me Claude's number. You gave me a job, I kept you out of trouble and I guess I'm keeping your cat so you can go off and do...whatever."

  Tamara hesitated. She grabbed a pen from Ti's cracked pink mug on the dining table and jotted something down on a sales flyer. "He won't pick up. You'll have to leave him a message. He’s on his way back to New Orleans today, I believe."

  Ti stared at the floor again. She just wished she would leave. She felt betrayed and a hole was starting to wear its way into her throat.

  "I guess there's nothing else left for me to say. Goodbye. I'll send you a postcard."

  And that was that. Tamara left.

  "Great," Ti muttered after the door had closed. Celestine Grace, cat babysitter and protector of women she could never have. This savior/control feeling was familiar and it never actually did work out in her favor. That accustomed feeling of emptiness crept up inside her. She wanted to go back home, but it was almost like doing so would be to admit failure. She'd come up here to go to school, to get over girlfriends, to get over her mother dying...and it had worked, to some degree. She'd toughed out school for as long as she could. She accepted she was the way she was: that need for control was ever so deep, too deep to dig out and crush. She'd just have to deal with it.

  She wanted to warn Sophia about her father. There was no denying that Ti felt a connection to her, and she was ready to accept that Sophia most certainly did not feel the same way. But she could warn her.

  It was a sick, sad feeling to sit there staring at her father's phone number scribbled on a sales paper for toiletries, as if it was just anyone's number. She picked up her cell phone to dial it, but her fingers wouldn't move.

  I need to tell Sophia first. Then I'll call Dad.

  Claude, she corrected herself. John was more like her father. It seemed right. And with Tamara gone, she really didn't have anyone else to try to reach out to.

  * * * *

  "I'm trying to understand everything, that's all." Ti felt like this conversation with John was just as pointless as talking to Tamara. There was no resolution, and John would not explain how he knew Claude.

  "It's something I'd rather tell you in person, Ti. I'm looking online right now to book you a flight, okay?"

  Ti was beside herself. She didn't like this feeling of being in the dark. It made her feel like…like
such a child. She nearly stamped her foot and let out a genuine whine.

  "I don't know if I want to come home until you tell me what's going on!"

  "Look, I owed your father a favor. He wanted to straighten out and see you again, show you that he had changed for the better. He needed someone else to help with his business so I sent you up there. I didn’t think it was my place to tell you your dad was out there. He made it seem like he wanted to surprise you and I thought it'd be good for you after Danny and all."

  Danny and all. How could John not know that something like this would inevitably lead to more fucked up situations? She wanted to slap him right through the phone.

  "I can't come anyway. I'm looking after a friend's cat. Actually, there are two cats…" She trailed off, thinking about what else was hidden in Sophia's apartment. She didn't want to think about it anymore. She'd explain everything to Sophia when she called again. She'd tell her about Claude and how she needed to stay away from him. Then she remembered what Tamara had said about Ms. Mona. "My friend's neighbor will watch them. I'll come."

  John made quick, business-like arrangements with her and told her to travel safely. Ti would have to pack up Tamara's cat and swing by Sophia's to get Argie, but she'd be on a plane in a few hours.

  That feeling again. The one where she felt she shouldn't leave San Francisco.

  Or maybe you should, something whispered to her. She moved around her apartment quickly, packing and mulling over details in her head. She'd already made arrangements with Ms. Mona about the cats.

  Jo’s wailing all the way over to Sophia's did not help Ti's anxiety. So when she did finally open the door to Sophia's apartment and saw the strange man sitting on the couch, she wasn't too surprised. It was almost as if he had been waiting for her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sophia: They’re Back

  Am I in hell yet?

  Cranes, oil rigs, grey skies…this was east Louisiana. The smell, too…the smell was like potent sulfur and oil, dirt and the sweat and tears of the overworked. Sophia had exited I-10 to get gas. The well-wrinkled, brown faces of blue-collar workers stared at her like she was an alien. This is how she imagined Earth would look like as it approached its end.

  Her mind was getting the best of her. Her road-warped brain definitely could use a rest. She drove around to the edge of the gas station, leaned her car seat back, and closed her eyes. Here, she could hear only the occasional roll of thunder and the patter of the raindrops on the windshield.

  In her fitful dream, it was night. The moon was pale and greenish, sickly looking. She was down by the Sutro Baths, looking out at the waves. Gazing. Listening to the rise and swell of the ocean.

  Strange shapes slowly became more recognizable: several strange sea creatures began to surface from the depths of the Pacific: a frog man, his legs and body speckled delicately, his legs bowed, his digits fanned, and face…so grotesque. She instantly thought of a dead unidentifiable fetus of some sort she'd once seen on the beach. Then another being emerged, this one a creature with large, shark-like teeth and glazed, fishy eyes. Another one, a man's head attached to long, reaching, dripping tentacles…she backed away. All the sea creatures emerged and their skin began to…what? Breathe? Now, there were hundreds of them coming up out of the black depths of the water. She could see them as far as the eye could see, down each side of the beach.

  Their skin began to swell, rise, and swell again. It was as if they were one in some bizarre, synchronized symphony of green slime. They whispered secrets to each other, their fish-like lips expressionless and barely moving. They pivoted around and locked their piss-colored eyes on her, wondering.

  Somewhere in the ocean, a woman screamed.

  The sea creatures' skins began to split and crack, as if they'd been out of the water too long. That noise, the splitting and cracking…those were the sounds of death. The sounds of killing were always her least favorite part. She could do without the wet rip of skin, the gooey sloshing as she removed the organs …all of it. Now, the ripping flesh and the peeling were making her clench her jaw hard. She could hear her molars grinding, barely audible squeaks. Her jaw ached and she shut her eyes tight.

  After a long moment, silence.

  She opened her eyes. Dead bodies everywhere, washed ashore, or rather, brought to shore by these things. Here was the hopeful transient boy, the swimmer. There was the dumb, delicious musician. Beth. She gasped. She stepped backward and fell, fell…

  Into what?

  It was a dream.

  She wasn't quite sure if she was relieved to find herself awake and in an old Toyota Corolla out in middle-of-nowhere, Louisiana. She started the car and pulled away.

  Memories from being back out here again. It's anxiety catching up with me. Everything will be fine. It always is.

  She couldn't shake that dream. She hoped it would be okay.

  She rubbed her eyes until she saw little geometric shapes. She started the car and drove straight through to LaPlace, Louisiana, just on the edge of her destination.

  * * * *

  The warehouse was technically in Kenner, a suburb of New Orleans. Sophia found herself staring at the warehouse now, finally, its grey industrial aura hazed by her grimy windshield view. From inside the car, it looked ethereal, and she supposed it kind of was. Some would say it was haunted. Many, many of the dirty had hidden out here, slept here, worked here…died here. This was where they came to clean up their lives, and this was where life could be clean without them. She smiled at the concept, but now everything had gone overboard: the business, Claude, all of it. She needed to move on without him. All he had taught her, all they had done, none of it mattered anymore. Now that she had Paul, she didn't need her old life with Claude. No need to feel tied down to his great master plan. She had her own.

  Even though she had gotten away from this fetid city and lived in cleaner San Francisco, she could not stop. Filth was everywhere. You could exterminate all you wanted, but they bred so fast it was impossible to keep up with them.

  Sophia got out of the Corolla and circled the warehouse. The ground sucked at the soles of her shoes as she walked through mud so thick and slimy, it was as though it was alive. It had been raining here, and since the humidity was high, it felt balmier than it really was. Sophia wiped her damp hands on the back of her pockets. It might be too wet to light the fire, but she was determined to get something done.

  Would Paul think Claude had taught her to do these things, that she was so weak and brainwashed? Or did he think she was stronger and could do them by herself? She was about to show him, as well as herself. She could get rid of this place, she could get rid of Claude, and she could help Paul get rid of all the whores in the world. All the people like Mother.

  No one thought twice about a woman buying loads of steel wool and nine-volt batteries at the Wal-Mart out in the desert. Any household could use something like that. Plus, they were the best way to ignite a fire when it was damp like this. Sophia started with gasoline and continued her way around the building, calm and organized.

  She didn't stay and watch the fire. Instead, she drove to the airport and parked in the long-term parking lot. She caught a cab and went into the French Quarter to stay for a while. She had a place there, the same one she grew up in, a nice place where she could sit out on the balcony in the mornings and look down at the narrow street below.

  The cabbie spoke into a radio with a thick accent and she wondered how anyone who wasn't from here would be able to understand him. She thought about her mother and she thought even more about Claude. This feeling she had about Paul, this all-consuming, fascinated feeling that filled the dark hole within her, she'd had it once when she was with Claude. Once. That was a long time ago. And she'd had fleeting moments of it with her mother, too.

  Sophia reflected on a particularly important day from her childhood. She’d been upset that day. Not crying upset, just upset. She never cried. But she stormed in and slammed the door to her room. Th
at girl in her class she'd so despised had fought back and the other kids laughed at Sophia's shocked reaction. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to be with her, not against her.

  How she'd slammed that door! She threw herself on the bed and beat the pillows until they were pulpy and shapeless. Her mother waited until the tantrum had subsided and entered, her movements slow and ghost-like. Sophia felt her weight on the bed. She didn't turn over to look at her mother, so it startled her when she began to speak.

  "I can see a lot of myself in you," she said. They sat still for a few moments. And right there in that time, there was an uncommon intimacy between them. Sophia felt it, and it seemed almost tangible in that moment, and she almost put her hand out to try and touch it.

  "You're a lot of things, though," Mother had continued, her voice soft. "You're so strong, and that's your own tragedy. You are either hunted or you're the hunter. And you'll always be both. I know you feel you have to take on the burden of murder or madness to be free of this place."

  Those sentences were vague, but Sophia knew. Her mother had gone to the core and the implications had dazzled the young Sophia.

  "I fantasize about murdering them all, about taking all the bad parts of them and shredding it, then stripping naked and bathing in the cleanest streams ever known to mankind, to purify myself." Sophia then looked at her mother. Her mother smiled and nodded, then raised her eyebrows as if to say, "I understand you." Sophia couldn't help it. She laughed out loud, and her mother joined in.

  "I also think that's why I do what I do. Just lying there, taking those men one after another…there really is some kind of wonderful triumph in all of it. There is an absolute release where I don't have to worry about who is alive or dead. In that moment I belong to no one. I am myself, pure and simple."

  And Sophia nodded and smiled back.

  What a strange moment. At that time, she didn't hate her mother so much. She understood the implications of the doll she had given her. She understood the things her mother had done to keep them both alive.

  The image of her mother's face and the dark hair that framed it was slowly fading back into memory. Sophia couldn't believe the day had gone by so fast. It seemed like she had arrived in Louisiana only hours ago, yet the sun was now hiding behind her as they descended into the city. The cabbie asked her for the address again and she repeated it as if in a dream. Creole cottages with colorful shutters lining the sidewalks, greenery creeping down and across wrought iron balconies: this was the French Quarter. She hadn't been here in years, it seemed, but it welcomed her back with a certain wet from birth feeling. Something gnawed at her stomach as she walked down the brick corridor, through the courtyard garden and up the stairs into the apartment she'd called home with her mother. Worry? Doubt? Sophia couldn't identify it, but it made her nearly double over in a bizarre combination of pain and nausea. She thought again about the dream, the one where the dead had come to get her.