by JA Huss
I agree and walk over to the bag. Donovan is one neat motherfucker. The tapes are in little soft-sided, mini-cassette-tape storage bags, arranged according to year. I never understood why Donovan used a cassette recorder when these things are practically obsolete. But the answer hits me, in this very moment, that this might’ve just been the way he was trained. Twenty years ago, it wasn’t so unusual to use such a device.
And then another revelation hits me too.
Twenty years ago might be the last time he had an actual, real lesson in PSYOPS.
I rub my hand down my face and swallow down fourteen years of regret.
What. The fuck. Have we done to this girl?
I know it’s not all our fault. It’s pretty clear that we picked Indie up in the middle of something. Someone, probably someone called Carter, got to her first.
And she sure as hell didn’t come with an instruction manual, so whatever. I put the first tape into the recorder and press play.
Indie paces the floor as her own little girl voice fills the room. She stops and looks at me. Smiles at me.
It’s a fun tape, I guess. She was busting Donovan’s balls pretty hard that first time.
But they don’t stay fun for long.
The first time Indie Anna Accorsi disappeared and came back with blood on her clothes and no memory of what she did or where she was, she was twelve years old.
Indie faces the door and presses her head against it as she listens to Donovan’s questions. Her own, hesitant, answers. Which are not answers. She never remembered anything, no matter how hard Donovan tried to coax it out of her.
The next one she’s normal again. Lots of them are totally normal. She is a happy girl content to talk about frogs, and Nathan, and the things they get up to in the swamp.
But she disappeared eight times before her twentieth birthday. Eight times she left us and returned with no memory of where she went, or what she did. So we have to get through seven more reality checks.
Even though most of the tapes are no longer than ten minutes, there are a lot of them and it takes a long time. By the time we’re finally at the last one before that very bad birthday, she’s huddled in the corner of her bedroom, hugging herself the way Donovan taught her, sobbing quietly.
I want to go to her. Hold her and tell her it’s all gonna be OK.
But I’m not sure it is.
When that tape is over, there’s nothing left but the one we played first. “Do you want to hear the last one again, Indie?”
She wipes a hand across her face. Sniffs loudly. And then turns her body so she can see me.
She is a beautiful fuckin’ mess.
She is a pretty little nightmare.
A gorgeous piece of misery and cloak of lovely darkness.
But she is my mess. She is my nightmare. She is my misery and my darkness.
So I smile at her.
She sniffs again. “Why are you smiling at me, Core McKay? There is nothing to smile about.”
That makes me smile even wider. She never calls me Core. “Because I love you, Indie Anna Accorsi. I don’t care what you’ve done, I still love you. And you’re not the only mess in this house. We’re all a mess. We’re all hiding darkness inside us. We’re all filled with regrets, and shame, and we were all born into the same fucking nightmare. But you know what?”
“What?”
“We’re still here, Indie. We made it this far. And if we can make it this far, we can keep going.”
She presses her face into her knees and shakes her head. “I remember him now.”
“Who?” I answer too fast. Too eager. And she looks up at me, startled. “I mean… well, Indie. It’s not gonna change anything. But… if you tell me, I will help you, baby. I will do anything to make it better. Who do you remember? Carter? Is that who?”
She nods. “I lied to you.”
“It’s OK, Indie. We all lie sometimes.”
I cringe as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Because that’s the truth right there. We all lie sometimes? That’s almost funny. Lies… lies are what we do. We were all lying to her tonight. Only Donovan has a clear conscious right now. He’s the only one who came clean.
“What did you lie about, Indie?
She looks down at her hands in her lap and plays with a piece of string from her t-shirt. She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head.
“It’s OK. You can tell me. I won’t judge you. I’m not leaving. No matter what you say, I’m here. I’m staying.”
“That man, Carter?”
“What about him?”
“He wasn’t Angelica’s handler. He was mine.”
I let out a long breath of air. I knew this. We all knew this. But hearing her say it makes it real.
“Were you with him? These past four years?”
She looks up at me and squints her eyes. Like she can’t quite remember. But then she nods. “Most of the time. But I got away. He’s gonna know I came home.”
“Do you think, Indie… do you think he sent you here? Do you think that’s why you got away?”
She shakes her head. “No. There was a fight, McKay. And I won.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No. But I tried to.” Her eyes begin to beg at me. “I wanted to. But I couldn’t. It was like… there was something inside me. Something that wouldn’t let me finish it.”
“That’s just programming, Indie. He put that there.”
“Can you take it away, McKay?”
“No. But… maybe Donovan can.”
She’s quiet for a long time after that. Hugging herself around her knees. Just a little bundle of a girl wrapped up in shadows and fear in the corner of her childhood bedroom. “What really happened that day, McKay?” She lifts her eyes up to meet mine from across the room. “To Nathan and… Maggie.”
I picture all the stupid things she could do once this last bit of truth is told. Kill herself. Kill me. Kill all of us. Disappear. Start killing other people. Go insane. Go back to Carter, whoever the fuck that asshole is. Take your pick, none of it is good.
Forgetting was good for her. And us.
That was the best thing for her and we all know it. Adam can blame Donovan all he wants, but he has to know, that was the best thing for her. Donovan had no idea she’d take off that night and never come back.
I’d like to think I can recall every detail of that night. But it’s not true. The drugs. They were strong. And even after Donovan dosed us with the Narcan, I didn’t feel completely normal.
Nathan wasn’t dead when Adam left and Donovan took Indie inside.
But by the time I got done with him—he was.
I walk over to the tub and turn it on.
“What are you doing?”
I ignore her. Just grab a dusty bottle of cheap bubbles from the floor and dump in ten times more than I need.
“McKay—”
“You wanna take a bath with me?”
“What?”
I drop my jacket on the floor and then lift my shirt over my head. “You heard me.”
My eyes find hers and she frowns at me. “Why?”
“Because I’ve wanted to take a bubble bath with you for… hell. I can’t really admit how long. It’s kinda sick, Indie. So please don’t make me say it out loud.”
She’s quiet as I kick off my boots and take off my jeans. And then I’m standing there naked as she stares into my eyes.
“It’s up to you. Everything has always been up to you. I hope you know that. We didn’t make you do anything, Indie. We always gave you a choice. Maybe that choice was hard to find at times, but it was always there. So I’m getting in the tub now. And I’m gonna forget about what just happened for a little bit. And what happened four years ago too. Because if I don’t, I will lose my shit. I know I’m supposed to be strong for you. I know I’m here to be your rock. But I can’t do it right now. I can’t face that day, I don’t want to think about it. I can’t feel that sadness again. That defeat. That
realization that no matter how hard I try, I cannot control things. I’m wrung out, child. I’m just… used up and wrung out and I would like to take a fuckin’ minute to just… forget. Because I never had that luxury and I need it, Indie. That’s all. I just need it.”
These might be the truest words I’ve ever spoken to her. This might be the most honest moment in my life. Because I have done things, and I am still keeping secrets from her, and… I’m just fuckin’ tired. That’s all. I’m just fuckin’ tired.
I turn away from her and get in the tub. Embarrassed to admit how good this feels.
Have I ever taken a bath before? Maybe. Back when I was a kid. But I don’t think about being a kid anymore, either. I had to wipe it all away after the Company fell. So I’m sure as hell not gonna go there now.
I just close my eyes and sigh as the water fills up around me.
A few moments later I hear floorboards squeaking and peek open one eye to find Indie undressing. It’s quick. She’s only wearing those same sweats and t-shirt I gave her yesterday.
And Jesus fucking Christ. All this shit happened in one fucking day. Fourteen years of memories packed into a single fucking day.
It makes my head spin.
Why am I still sane?
Or am I? Maybe we’re all crazy?
I hold Indie’s hand to steady her as she gets in the tub. Then she turns around and sits down. Leaning back into my chest.
I wrap my arms around her, close my eyes, and sigh.
“Adam’s not gone.”
I open one eye, then close it just as fast. Too much effort. “How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“I know too. So listen to me. We’re doing this. But then we’re gonna get into bed and sleep. And that’s it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… the four of us have to figure this out. Figure us out. We can’t just keep having sex. You’re not mine, you’re ours.”
She’s quiet for a minute.
“Do you understand why?”
She nods her head.
“Tell me.”
She exhales and takes a moment. I give her that moment because like that little girl she was when she came to us, this relationship we have sure as shit didn’t come with an instruction manual.
“Because we’re friends.”
I smile. That was not the answer I would’ve given, but it’s a good one. “We are friends, Indie. It’s a very strong bond. And we can’t go messing it up just for sex.”
“It’s not just sex, McKay.”
“I know. I know it’s not. And that’s why we need to unravel things slowly. Because if we go too fast, we’ll start tying more knots.”
She seems content with that answer because we’re both silent for a long time after that.
I think about Nathan. I feel like I’ve been thinking about that kid my whole life at this point. And there’s nothing I can do to change the way it turned out. What happened, happened. And I have to live with it.
So I take my own advice and start to forget…
Indie falls asleep first, and even though I’m determined to stay awake—leftover paternal responsibilities, maybe?—I can’t help it. I drift off.
When I wake up the water is going tepid. So I get up, help her out, dry her off, then myself. And then we put night clothes on.
She finds a t-shirt and shorts in her dresser drawer. Old clothes this time. From before. And I find a pair of sweats in my room.
Then I go back to her room, climb into bed next to her, wrap my arms around her middle, tug her back up to my chest, and close my eyes. So ready for this day to be over.
“You didn’t wash my hair.”
I open one eye. “What?”
“You didn’t wash my hair. Or comb it out. So I just want you to know, that bath didn’t count.”
I hug her a little tighter and then drift into a dream where all this happened, and nothing is different. The bad, and the good. The laughs and the tears. The things we did right and all of the mistakes.
They come to me in dream, after dream, after dream.
And still, I hear myself insist…
I would do it all again.
When I wake in the morning I feel like I’m having déjà vu because I can hear Indie and Donovan talking down in the kitchen. I swing my legs out of bed, then wonder how she got out of my arms without waking me up.
God, I’m getting too old for this shit.
Anyway, the conversation downstairs doesn’t sound heated or confrontational. So I give myself a break for the security lapse.
When I wander into the kitchen Donovan is still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Motherfucker really did stay downstairs all night. He’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island and Indie is sitting on the counter, searching through a cupboard.
I walk over to her, grab her by the waist, and swing her off the counter. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, good. You’re up. We’re hungry.”
And for a second… I swear to God, it’s ten years earlier. She is fourteen. The Company hasn’t fallen. Indie never got pregnant. I am making breakfast. Donovan is probably gonna leave a little later to go back to school. Adam will come downstairs any minute now and say something to make us groan.
Everything is perfect.
But of course, this girl standing in front of me isn’t fourteen and while things might get better, they will never be that good again.
I do realize it’s fucked up to want the Company back. But after nearly ten years without them… I just can’t talk myself into it anymore.
Things did not get better. Nothing got better. The world is still filled with evil people, it’s just a whole new set of evil people we have no authority over.
When I think about the Company these days all I feel is… powerless.
“So… pancakes?”
I glance at Donovan, decide he’s taking this new day well, and scratch my neck as I nod. “Sure. I’ll make us some pancakes.”
If there was some fly-on-the-wall person watching us, they’d peg us all sociopaths. Who has a night like we did and then wakes in the morning talking about pancakes?
We do. That’s who.
Because we’ve been playing the game of Let’s-Pretend-That-Didn’t-Happen for so long now, it’s just business as usual.
I’m just starting to whisk up some batter when the familiar sound of truck tires on the gravel driveway leak in from outside.
All three of us stop what we’re doing to look down the hallway at the front door.
“Adam.” Indie darts down the hallway. “I knew he’d be back.”
Donovan sighs. Which makes me sigh.
We are all so tired. Donovan and I drag ourselves after Indie and it feels a lot like Christmas Day, when Indie would get up early. Very early. And force us all down here to open presents.
Of course, we were excited for Christmas. And of course, we’re glad Adam came to his senses. But it’s early. Or maybe too late? And we’re just… exhausted.
But when we step out onto the porch we see Indie there. Stock still. Hand over her mouth. Staring at Adam’s truck.
And when I stare at the truck, I see why.
Because looking back at us from the driver’s side is Adam. But looking back at us from the passenger side…
Donovan takes a step forward. “What… the fuck?” Then he’s going down the porch steps.
I walk up next to Indie, stunned.
Because in the passenger side is… Maggie.
But it’s not possible. She died. Adam told us she died in the hospital from liver failure after eating those daphne berries. It took three days I remember that so clearly. Three days of waiting to see what happened to our precious little girl. Three days of agony. By the time Adam’s text came in, both Indie and Donovan had been gone for two days. Indie by way of bedroom window. Donovan just called a fuckin’ car to take him to the airstrip where he kept his stupid jet.
But it�
��s her.
It’s Maggie. I would recognize her in a crowd of a thousand.
So obviously, Adam is a damn liar.
Adam is talking to her inside the truck. He’s pointing at us. I put an arm around Indie and pull her into me.
She struggles for a moment, but then relents. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Is that—”
The little blonde girl—spittin’ fucking image of her mother—gets out of the truck and starts walking towards Donovan.
Adam meets Maggie on the other side of the truck and takes her hand. Maggie is nearly six now. She smiles up at Adam. The two of them walk up to the bottom of the porch. I stare at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. He looks at Indie. “I told you last night I made a deal with those flowers. And I am a lot of things, Indie Anna Accorsi, but I am not a liar.”
“You told me she was dead,” I say, contradicting him.
“I never said that, McKay. I sent you a text.”
“That text said she was dead, Adam.”
“No, McKay. That text said ‘it’s over.’ And I meant it. It was over. Maggie spent three days in the hospital and then I took her home with me.”
“What home?” I’m angry and it’s not easy to hide. “Because you sure as hell didn’t bring her here.”
“My house in Baton Rouge.”
I suck in a deep breath. Still holding tight to Indie.
“You had no right.” I’m so fuckin’ pissed.
Donovan walks over to Maggie and bends down. “Hey there, Mags. Do you remember me? I’m Donovan.”
But Adam and I are still having a conversation and Indie is too shocked to move out of my embrace.
“I had every right, McKay. She tried to kill us.”
“Adam.” Donovan stands back up. “We’re not gonna have this conversation in front of Maggie.”
Adam is still looking at me. “Maggie already knows. I told her everything on the way over here.”
He told her everything. A six-year-old girl. I want to grab him by the neck and shake some sense into this man. Because I see what he’s doing. I know what he’s done.
Indie made a choice last night and she chose me. And Adam has been keeping Maggie secret all this time. Secret from me, not Indie.
