Mine First

by A. J. Marchant

  ‘...when it’s all your fault.’ Olly mumbled it.

  But Lori heard. Or misheard, she wasn’t sure. She turned away from the lifeless trees. ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what you were going to say, right? Can’t ruin her life when it’s all your fault.’ Olly stood in the middle of the statues, hands in her pockets. ‘You’ve put the blame on yourself. You’ve assumed responsibility, not only for your own actions as the cause, but for her actions in response.’

  Lori didn’t follow what she meant, so Olly took a second to simplify. ‘You’re punishing yourself by letting Addy punish you.’

  ‘No. That—That’s not…’ But Lori couldn’t say it wasn’t true. It made sense, more than anything else. And it was a reminder of what Addy had said, back in her dorm room that morning. She’d thought she’d ended it with Addy before there was a chance of getting attached—in truth, it was already too late. Then everything had gone wrong. Terrified that someone would put the blame on her, Lori had gotten ahead of it by blaming herself; come what may, she deserved it. And Addy knew she wasn’t one to ask for help.

  ‘You can’t put your life on hold while you wait for her to get it out of her system. That’s not how it works. And it’s not healthy, for either of you.’

  Lori looked down at the statue beside her, considering what Olly had said. A tiny bench with a winged fairy sitting at each end. Their childlike faces smiled at each other, their ruffled pinafores delicate in the sculpted clay.

  She sat down on the bench, squeezing in between the fairies, feeling like a child herself. ‘So what do I do? Should I go see her? Talk to her?’

  Lori waited for an answer, for a solution, for advice on how to fix everything, but Olly was staring at the house, and the voice that rang out wasn’t hers.

  ‘Talk to who?’

  Lori’s head snapped up to see a bundled figure on the back step. ‘Emmie, hey. What’re you doing here?’

  ‘I came to see how you were.’ Em nodded at the statues as if it was the most normal thing she’d ever seen, making Lori laugh. ‘Who’re your new friends?’

  Just like that, any chance of getting Olly to help figure out what to do was gone. Lori wondered how long Em had been standing there, and how much she’d heard. Em had a one-track mind when it came to dealing with Addy, and so far her detective friend had been no help.

  Olly was due in class soon and had to leave. Em would have stayed the rest of the day, but Lori was exhausted, desperately needing sleep, and Marina could see it.

  After an hour of careful hinting, Marina herded Em out the front door with a promise to look after Lori as if it was her full-time job. Lori felt bad for kicking Em out, especially when Marina had been the one to withstand the scorn in Em’s stare as she mumbled goodbye.

  49

  LORI COULDN’T BELIEVE it. It was only two days ago that Addy had tried to drown her, but it felt like weeks had passed. She desperately wanted to stay in bed, curled up with her head buried under the blankets. But Marina had taken the day off work and was hellbent on getting her out of the house.

  So, they were up and out early, nestled in the back corner of a warm cafe, enjoying breakfast like it was the usual thing they did every Thursday morning.

  ‘What should we do today?’

  ‘Whatever you want.’

  Marina bounced closer on the bench seat. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’

  Through the gaps in the line at the counter Lori had a view to the front of the cafe, dull light coming in through the double-glazed windows pulled shut and locked tight. Outside, people were rugged up, layers upon so many layers that they couldn’t reach up and touch their nose, let alone feel their nose after spending a minute out in the bitter winter air.

  ‘It’s so cold out.’

  ‘Yeah. But it’s not snowing anymore.’

  Lori conceded Marina’s tenuous line of reasoning. ‘Okay. Say we did, where would we go?’

  Marina pointed at a postcard pinned to the wall. ‘How about Herald’s Maze?’

  ‘It’s not even open this time of year.’

  ‘Which means no one else will be there.’

  Lori smiled. ‘Herald’s it is.’

  It was an hour-long drive, over the mountains and into the next valley, halfway to the next town. Herald’s Maze was a low budget amusement park. Its main attraction was a seven-foot-high hedge maze that filled an entire field. A pristine layer of snow covered the empty carpark and a big sign on the wire fence shouted that Herald’s was closed for the winter. They had the place to themselves.

  Lori was looking for a way over when Marina appeared on the other side, a big grin on her face and her fingers sticking through the little gaps in the wire fence.

  ‘How’d you get in?’

  ‘Climbed.’

  Marina led Lori back to a section of the fence that butted up against a tree trunk. Someone had cut holes in the wire big enough for foot and handholds, and the lower branches of the tree were just at the right height to grab onto at the top, making it easier to swing over.

  One last look around the deserted carpark and Lori was up and over, grabbing Marina’s hand. They took off, laughing, running as if they were being chased all the way into the mouth of the maze.

  It had been a long time since Lori had gone through the maze, not since she’d been there with Em and her parents for summer holidays. They used to go every year and Lori had had it memorised, winning every time she and Em raced each other through the maze. But the turns were jumbled around in her brain, or she’d forgotten them over the years. More likely, they’d changed it.

  They wandered for a while, but when the cold became almost unbearable Lori ran ahead, climbing the ladder onto Peeper’s Peak. She memorised the random statues placed throughout. Left at the dinosaur. Left again at the circus elephant. Through the whirlwind spiral and cut across just before the brown bear.

  One thing was still the same; the exit of the maze was a section of hedge that had been trellised and shaped to look like a wave curling and crashing. A layer of snow made it look real, as if it was breaking and frothing out across the grass.

  It started to rain as they walked through the mini-golf course. Big icy drops, not quite snow. They ran to the closest shelter. A tent of thick clear plastic covered the carousel, the pointed top running with ice and watery snow. Numb fingers fumbled with the big zip and they slipped through, surprised by the warmth trapped inside.

  The plastic magnified and softened the light coming through, glinting off the golden touches on the carved wooden animals. Lori circled and wove between them. She sat side-saddle on the lion next to Marina’s giraffe and they talked while they waited out the rain.

  50

  THEY ARRIVED BACK at Lori’s to an envelope leaning against the door. Marina saw it first and picked it up, turning it over to see if it had anything written on it. There wasn’t a mark.

  It looked like the one Jeremy had used, the one taken when her office was broken into. But the corner wasn’t folded. It looked new, unused.

  Marina handed it over and Lori opened it, sliding out a piece of paper. No, a photo. It was of herself and Addy, and it took her a moment to place where it had been taken. It was from the donor brunch, but taken from below, from the grass area beneath the balcony. Lori’s body was turned towards the camera, but only the side of her face was visible, eyes looking down at Addy’s hand on her own.

  ‘Who is that?’ Marina leaned over, peering down at the photo.

  ‘Addy.’

  Marina tilted her head, like she was trying to read something. Lori scanned the photo, noticing the date and time printed in the bottom left corner.

  Marina stepped back. ‘This was taken the day when we met at the park. The birds.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lori turned the photo over, but there was nothing on the back, no clues. Something told her this was a warning, a notice of caution. It wasn’t a threat, it wasn’t put there to mess with her head. So, if it hadn’t been Addy’s doing, then w
ho?

  Lori held the photo up, close enough for her breath to fog the glossy paper; it showed a moment she would rather not relive, one that made it feel like her heart was being squeezed. Her eyes were glued to it though, even as Marina pried it from her hand.

  ‘When?’

  Lori glanced up. ‘When, what?’ Her focus returned to the photo, now upside down from where she was standing.

  ‘When did you… you and Addy, when was it going on?’

  Lori couldn’t remember telling Marina anything specific, let alone that she and Addy had had, for lack of a better term, a relationship. But then again, Marina wasn’t dumb. It wouldn’t have been hard to figure it out, even if she’d only half been paying attention at dinner the other night.

  ‘Were you seeing her after we met?’

  Lori thought back, then nodded. She tore her eyes away from the photo, feeling like she needed to keep eye contact with Marina to stop her leaving before she could explain.

  ‘After our first date?’

  She wasn’t doing a very good job at it, though. All she could do was nod again.

  ‘After that day in the park?’

  Lori shook her head, then rushed to clarify, ‘No. It was all before that.’

  ‘When did you end it?’

  Silence.

  ‘When?’

  Lori flicked a corner of the photo. ‘About a second after that was taken.’

  Lori saw the change that came over Marina the second those words escaped. What a time to be honest, she thought. She could see Marina thinking, working out the timeline, the overlaps.

  Given her run of bad luck and worse decisions, Lori could see all too well how this would go. She had to fix it.

  ‘Please. Don’t be mad. Let me explain.’

  Marina walked over and sat on the porch seat. ‘I’m not mad.’ A second of silence dragged on for what felt like an hour. ‘Maybe a little hurt, though. And I know that you’ve paid for it… All too much.’ She stared at the photo. ‘Any idea who this came from? Addy?’

  Now that Lori had had a moment to think, she had an inkling of who. But explaining who Jeremy was and why he would do it, plus all the other little details that she didn’t yet understand, would take their focus away from the issue at hand. Lori needed to know something more important at that moment. ‘Doesn’t matter who, or why, or whatever. What does it mean for us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Marina pointed at the envelope in Lori’s hand, giving a brittle smile as she passed it to her. She slid the photo back in, smoothing the envelope on her thighs.

  Lori shrunk into herself a little and leaned against the porch railing. ‘Are you going to leave?’

  ‘Now? Or altogether?’

  ‘Either. Both.’

  It was agony, waiting for an answer. Marina stared down at the envelope, putting it on the seat beside her. ‘Neither.’

  Lori was relieved, but still, it hung over her, a sense of waiting for Marina to change her mind, to get up and go. It froze her. She didn’t know what to say, worried she’d say the wrong thing.

  All that was happening. It was happening to her, aimed at her, and her alone. Marina was an innocent bystander, caught in the wake.

  ‘I have to call work and check the notes for a meeting tomorrow. Why don’t you head inside, get the heater cranking? I’ll be there in a minute.’ Marina was already scrolling through her phone, the enveloped photo by her side, seemingly forgotten.

  So Lori went inside and turned the heating on. She went through her usual routine of checking the house, hearing a murmur of Marina’s phone call through the glass as she examined the locks on the front windows.

  Lori heard the front door close as she checked the laundry. She’d been readying herself for Marina to change her mind and leave, and it was only when she stepped out into the hallway and saw Marina at the alarm panel that she believed she would stay. There came the sharp beep of it being activated and all the tension left her body, a hint of normalcy returning at the easy smile passing between them.

  51

  LORI SCROLLED THROUGH the list of missed calls and messages on her phone as she made her way down the stairs, one slow step at a time.

  ‘Good thing I’m going back to work today. I think they’ve noticed I’m not the one teaching my classes.’ She waited for the laugh. When the house remained silent she stopped, halfway down the stairs. She thought she’d get at least some reaction from Marina, a laugh, a snort, or even a groan at her lame attempt at humour. But nothing.

  Stepping down into the hallway, she called out, ‘Marina?’

  No answer.

  The kitchen was empty. Propped up against an empty wine bottle in the middle of the island bench was the photograph. Beside it was a key. Lori dragged it across the bench and picked it up; it was the key she’d given Marina, her key to the house. It dropped back onto the bench with a clatter that rang in her mind long after.

  She picked up the photo and turned it over, praying for a note on the back, an explanation of what was going on. There wasn’t one, but it was pretty clear what Marina had meant by it. After all, she’d left her key. Given time to think, Marina had made a different decision, changed her mind like Lori had been afraid she would, and she hadn’t given Lori a chance to talk her out of it again.

  The stool rocked under her as she sat down, unsteady. Good thing the wine bottle was empty, or she would have finished it herself, even if it was seven in the morning.

  Her phone still in her hand, Lori brought up Marina’s number and stared at it for a while.

  A small tap and she waited for it to ring, but it went straight to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message and was about to throw the phone onto the bench when it started ringing.

  For a second she thought it was Marina calling her back. Her heart thumped. But it was only an unknown number, one of the many that had called already. She ignored it, not in the mood for an ear-whipping about skipping out on her classes. She put down the phone and picked up the photograph.

  The side of Addy’s face filled her vision, but all she could think was—Who the hell would leave this at her door? And why now?

  Around her, the house settled, empty and quiet. It was impossible to hide forever, so she went about getting ready, sliding the photo into her work bag along with her laptop and class notes. She looked out the window to gauge how many layers to put on, deciding a jumper and coat would be enough. The heater turned off, and the alarm turned on, she stepped out into the frigid air.

  Halfway down the front path, something caught her eye. At first she thought it was a trick of the light. But on closer inspection she saw it was Beanie, lying in the snow. If it wasn’t for the red stain beside him, she wouldn’t have noticed the cat at all. He wasn’t moving, and for a horrified second Lori thought the worst, that he was dead. She edged closer, relief flooding her when the crunch of her step made his tail twitch.

  She jumped when he suddenly stood up. He wobbled a little as he turned to look up at her, but there wasn’t a scratch on him, just a patch of red on his chin. He stared up at her, eyes wide as he licked his lips.

  A flick of his tail and Beanie stalked away towards his own home, revealing a patch of red snow, unsettling in its size, its edges blurred and dull, the centre still wet and bright. Lori crouched, leaning closer. The smell was strong compared to the crisp scent of the snow. Iron and sweet. Blood.

  Whatever Beanie had caught, it had been bigger than a bird or a mouse. And whatever it was, there was nothing left of it now. Shaking off her unease at the strange events of the morning, Lori started walking, deciding to look forward to the distraction of classes, her enthusiastic students and their easily solved problems.

  52

  SNOW CAME OFF Lori’s boots in clumps as she stamped up the salted steps and entered the old sandstone building. She rubbed the cold from her fingers, weaving her way through the busy hallways, passing alcoves and classrooms filled with students keeping out of the cold. She climbed the
stairs to the second floor and was a few turns away from her office when she noticed students looking at her, pointing, whispering behind hands.

  Lori glanced over her shoulder, but it wasn’t someone behind her they were looking at. It was her, and a strange dread dug a pit in her stomach. She wondered if it was just her imagination, if she was being paranoid, but then she noticed that even staff members weren’t making eye contact, pretending she wasn’t walking right by them.

  A group of students crowded around her office door, each one trying to get to the front for a look at something. They bolted when they saw her coming. One of them had closed the door behind them, as if to make it seem like they hadn’t been there. Lori stared after them for a moment, her hand on the door handle. The hinges creaked as she swung it open in slow motion.

  Lori froze in the doorway. Her mind flicked back and forth between the urgent thought to take a step back and close the door, and the even more urgent thought to step inside and close the door behind her. Neither seemed like a viable option. Stuck, unable to move, unable to pull her eyes away, caught in the need to just stand there and take in the room.

  Photographs plastered all four walls. They littered the floor, a carpet of faces smiling up at her. All from that night, the night she’d gone out with Addy. The poor lighting made their bright and happy faces stand out with the glare of the camera flash. In a few of the photos there were blurred outlines of the others in the group, only Lori and Addy in focus.

  Most she hadn’t even known were being taken, but her eyes locked on one in particular. Her own beaming smile, Addy kissing her blushing cheek, the unfocused shapes of people huddled around them; the group photo Nate had asked the waitress to take. Lori touched her cheek, her cold fingertips an antidote to the memory of Addy’s lips pressed against her skin.