Debt and Repayment

Charlie was speeding down the highway as fast as his car would go. Never mind that he was drunk. Never mind that he shouldn't be behind the wheel at all. He had to get away.

For about half his life now, he had been followed. There had been no reprieve. Had this been his punishment for being such a rebellious teenager?

“Hey man, could you run in and buy me a six-pack? You can keep the change.”

“You know, I shouldn't. But I remember being young. I'm sure you're a good kid.”

Half an hour of conversation after that with this stranger that day. He told him all his selfish aspirations. The fame and power he always found appealing as a teenager. Now he wanted none of it. He'd give anything to be rid of him. He'd tried everything.

“I want to get out to Pennsylvania.” Charlie had been talking to this man for months now, occasionally getting beer or liquor through him. “There's a band my old friend is starting and they're gonna be big, he thinks.”

“I could help you get there, you know.”

“You could?”

“Yeah.” A smile and a wink. “But you'll owe me.”

This man, for lack of a better word, had been following Charlie since then, since he was a naïve 14-year-old asking for beer. This stranger had been young then, and he hadn't aged now. He still had the same light blonde hair, the same soft, barely noticeable lines around his eyes—he had looked to be about thirty for the last fifteen years. And he wanted something.

Charlie had to get away.

***

Natalie was only eight years old, but she had already developed a nervous habit as persistent as smoking. She was doing it now: peeling away at the skin on her hands. When she did it often enough, the sides of her fingers and the place where her thumb met her palm would turn raw and red and flaky and would hurt to the touch. When she did it long enough her hands would bleed.

For the last fifteen minutes, she hadn't been able to keep from peeling away. Her left forefinger was the color of pomegranate all the way down the side, and the area around the fingernail had started to bleed. She pulled away at a couple flakes of skin near the base of her finger.

Suddenly she felt her mother's hand swat sharply at her own.

“Stop that,” her mother said, and then looked away.

Natalie put her fingertip in her mouth and sucked at the blood. Her mother would have said something then about keeping her hands out of her mouth, but her attention had been caught by whatever lay beyond the window and her focus stayed there for a long time. Natalie kept her finger in her mouth and focused hard on not peeling again.

They were on a train. Natalie had never been on a train before, and she didn't think her mother had, either, but her mother didn't trust planes and they didn't have a car anymore since her daddy left, and they had a long way to go.

Natalie laid her head against her mother's shoulder and fell asleep.

When she woke up, she was lying on her side on the seat of the train and rain was streaking the window, making grass and trees beyond the glass look like nothing but a blur of earth tones. It looked like someone had taken a bucket full of every kind of green and brown and thrown it at a canvas to let it slop down and blend together.

Natalie wondered how much time had passed. She sat upright.

“Oh, you're awake,” her mother said. Her voice was like the rain-washed window now, like dripping brown paint. “We're in Ohio now.”

Natalie nodded like she knew what that meant, but to her, Ohio was just a word on a map and she didn't know how far it was from wherever they were going.

She knew she lived in Indiana. She tried to think about that because it held more meaning than “Ohio.” It held her grandma, with her hair dyed more yellow than blonde and her handbag that Natalie swore was just like Mary Poppins'. It held her grandpa, too, who had a bed in a different room than grandma and never seemed to wear any shirt that wasn't plaid.

They were keeping an eye on things, Natalie's mom had said, while she and her mother went to Pennsylvania.

Natalie laid down again and went back to sleep.

***

Cindy ran her thumb over the blonde hair that looped over Natalie's forehead. Natalie would be too young to fully understand death. Too young to understand a funeral, much less the need to travel two states away to attend one. But Cindy didn't want to leave her daughter with her grandparents; they could manage watching a house, sure, but Natalie had too much energy for grandma's arthritis, grandpa's bad back, grandma's bad knees, grandpa's weak heart. At least that's what they said when Cindy asked if she could leave Natalie with them.

In truth, Cindy doubted that her parents really wanted to look after their granddaughter. To them, Natalie was a reminder of her failed marriage—the man they wanted her to stay with because he was a doctor and he had money and he could look after her. But he had other appetites, and they had come before his family.

It was Cindy's brother Charlie that had passed away. Cindy had hoped to persuade her parents to come along to the funeral; crotchety as they were, he was their son, after all. But her brother had a lifetime of mistakes—starting in his youth with theft and drinking, and going through adulthood with more of the same, drunk driving and even some hard drugs that landed him in jail multiple times. He had been disowned by their parents and kicked out as soon as he turned eighteen.

That was why he had moved out to Pennsylvania, after all, Cindy thought. To get a fresh start. And now look where it had gotten him.

He had been killed in a car accident. He apparently had never learned his lesson about drunk driving. Cindy herself was hesitant to go to the funeral, but she felt it was her duty to go, especially if her parents wouldn't.

***

Natalie understood that someone had died. She understood that it had been her uncle, her mother's brother—a man she had never even seen face-to-face, though she had spoken to him over the phone on the occasional birthday or Christmas. Natalie always had a little trouble making out what he was saying, and her mother would always take the phone away after a couple minutes of his slurred speech.

The death was weightless for her. She knew, somewhere inside, that she should be sad. She knew her mother was sad, and though the room with the coffin in it did not contain a large crowd, those that had come all seemed heartbroken. It all felt like a scene in a movie to Natalie, one that held about as much meaning as “Pennsylvania” or “Ohio.” Words and images that maybe should have affected her more than they did.

She looked up at her mother, who seemed as conflicted as she was. She was one of the few who weren't crying, but she looked like she was looking right through the walls, watching something happen behind them that she couldn't take her eyes away from.

***

The funeral was not easy to stomach. Cindy couldn't quite decide how to feel. She was upset, of course, at having lost her brother, but the real tragedy was that she couldn't really feel the tragedy of his death. She hadn't seen him in person in ten years, after all. And that's what hurt the most—that when she lost him, she didn't even really know him.

That and, of course, the fact that her parents couldn't even bring themselves to be here. It all just seemed so unfair. And her poor daughter having to come along on top of it all.

Cindy stood in front of the casket, looking down at her brother. He looked so much like her, and she had never realized it until he was dead. They both had the same nose, the same low brow, the same high cheekbones. The difference was that he was the one who had inherited the darker skin, hair, and eyes of their father. So much familiarity there, and yet it was the face of someone she knew nothing about.

Cindy felt Natalie tugging on her hand. She looked down and her daughter wrapped her bony arms around her waist in a hug. Cindy gave her a little squeeze.

A man approached the coffin next to Cindy. He was the opposite of her dark-toned brother. His hair was blonde enough to be almost white; his skin was fair and pale like her own; his eyes were a piercing ice blue. Every feature seemed delicate. He looks somber. Heartbroken. Cindy thought he must have known her brother much better than she ever did.

“You were his sister?” he asked her.

“How did you know?”

“You look almost identical, and you're not nearly old enough to be his mother. Aunt, maybe, but I knew neither of your parents had any siblings.”

Cindy was a little bit baffled. She had never seen this man before.

“My name is James,” he said. He inspected her a little bit more closely. “I think I remember you. God, it's been so long. Cindy, right? Is this your daughter?”

“I'm sorry,” she stuttered, putting her arms around Natalie. “Have we met?”

“I was a very close friend of your brother's, for many years. Ever since we were kids.” He looked into the casket for a few moments.

“I don't remember seeing you around.”

“Well, I've grown, you see.” He smiled. Cindy blushed.

“Well of course. I just mean that...well, I never saw anyone that could have been you.” And that much was definitely true. James looked to be a few years older than her brother, and her brother had definitely not had any friends much older than himself as a child or even as a teenager.

James' smile didn't falter. “Maybe you just don't remember. I was at your house all the time,” he said. “I remember the garden out back, how angry your mother would get when we accidentally stomped all over her tulips.” he chuckled. “Do they still have that old shed they painted green when we were kids?”

Cindy frowned. For the life of her, she could not remember having ever seen a kid like him around. “They don't live in that house anymore,” she said. It was a lie.

“Pity,” James said. “I bet it would be real pretty now. Especially if they put some more tulips along the east side of the house.”

Cindy thought about the tulips her parents had planted that year and hugged Natalie a little closer to her.

“Say,” James said, “I haven't heard from your brother in a couple years. You know, we stayed in touch for a long time after he moved, but then, you know, things happen, people drift away. But I always liked you. What do you say we meet for coffee tomorrow? In memory of him, and maybe in hopes of a new friendship. I'd hate to lose ties with his family.”

Cindy already knew he was bad news. She didn't know how she knew so much about her family if it was true that he had been out of touch with her brother; and if that wasn't true, she didn't know his reasons for lying about it, which only made him even more untrustworthy. She shook her head.

“I, um...I really need to get out of town right after the funeral. Family obligations. My parents, they're too old to make the trip and--”

“Oh, but aren't you and your pretty daughter staying at the Days Inn down the road the next couple nights? I hope you haven't had to cancel your reservation.”

Cindy stared. She had no idea what to say to that or how he knew where she was staying.

“Unfortunately, I have,” she lied quickly. “My parents, they aren't in the greatest health, they need me to come home.”

***

Cindy left her hotel early the next day. If James knew where she was staying, she didn't want him to catch her there. So she got up not much after sunrise, Natalie in tow, intending to bring her to a store, a restaurant, anywhere that they couldn't be tracked down.

Unfortunately, she was too late. As soon as she reached the door, she saw that familiar pale face.

“I'd been hoping you'd still be in town. I had hoped to speak with you before you had to catch your train back,” James said with a voice like silk. “I'd hate to have missed you. You were probably the only one who knew your brother as well as I did.” He looked her up and down, noting her empty hands. “Has your luggage already been brought to the train station in advance?”

Cindy struggled to maintain composure. “We've had to take a later train,” she said. “I was just taking Natalie out to--”

“Breakfast?” James interrupted. “I'll treat you. I still want to be a part of your family.”

Cindy didn't want him anywhere near her family, and she didn't want to give him reason to think he was invited to be closer to her, but he was walking close at her heels and seemed fully prepared to follow her to wherever she was going.

She considered calling the police, but wondered if she had any reason to. It was true that James knew more than she thought he should about her family, but how much of that had he found out from her brother? And perhaps he had found out about her hotel from Natalie. She tended not to talk much when she was nervous, but she could be a chatterbox sometimes. Cindy didn't want to cause any undue alarm. She had no reason to believe, so far, that he meant her any harm.

Still, she hesitated to allow James to treat her to breakfast. She ended up caving in, if for no other reason than she really didn't have the money for eating out at restaurants, and the food they had for the time in their hotel was nothing but light snacks, empty calories that would leave neither herself nor Natalie fulfilled.

Cindy relented. “All right. If you're sure you're okay with paying, James.” She didn't know what else to say. But perhaps James could let her in on what had been happening to her brother. When she had last spoken with him a year ago, he seemed on the road to recovery.

***

Cindy struggled to find ways to make small talk with a man she didn't trust.

“So...you grew up in Indiana, I assume?” Cindy asked.

“Just down the road from you,” he said. “Maybe a mile away. Was it East or West? I was never good with directions. The house on that dirt road.”

Cindy tried to let herself relax a little. She knew the house he was talking about, though she had never been there.

Cindy and James talked throughout breakfast while Natalie sat quietly at the table. Cindy felt bad for her daughter—she wasn't normally this quiet. The stress of the train ride, the funeral, the stranger they were talking with, must have been really getting to her. Her hands were peeled raw and red, and Cindy hardly had the heart to scold her about it.

Cindy still had her qualms about James. As soon as he mentioned he was a doctor—well payed enough to afford the trip from Indiana to Pennsylvania several times a year—she thought back to their initial meeting and the way he seemed so intent on getting close to her, and she wondered if maybe this was something her husband had put him up to. Were they colleagues? She asked if her husband was familiar to him and he said no, he worked at a different hospital, the one in the next county.

“I have to confess,” James said after a long while. “Part of the reason I invited you to breakfast—” Cindy ignored the fact that he had invited himself—“was because I had a bit of a settlement to make with your brother.”

Cindy looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I helped him get out to Pennsylvania,” James explained.

“Ah.” Cindy fell silent. Suddenly she hated James, and not for any of her previous suspicions; simply for the fact that he had helped her family lose Charlie.

“Please don't hold it against me,” James said. “Your brother and I, we had an agreement. We were good friends. But he owed me. And as hard as it is to lose him, it is crucial that I get my payment.”

“And you think this is something I can help you with?” Cindy asked.

James' face was unusually still; even the faint lines in his face seemed to be carved from stone. Cindy didn't like this unnatural calm. It unnerved her.

“I think we may be able to make arrangements,” he said.

***

If Natalie's nervous habit was picking the skin on her fingers, her mother's must have been double-checking things. Natalie watched her mother lock the sliding lock on the door, close the blinds on the hotel window, and check the peephole, all over and over in sequence several times. Natalie couldn't help peeling at her hands, her anxiety growing just watching the scene, and her mother didn't even scold her for it.

“Are you worried, mom?” Natalie asked. Her mother jumped, seeming startled that she had even spoken.

“No, sweetie, I'm fine,” she replied, but she looked and sounded like she was out of breath. “I'm just getting ready for bed. Now go on and brush your teeth.”

Natalie wandered to the bathroom, watching her mother over her shoulder—watching her check the lock yet again before peering through the closed vertical blinds.

***

It was 6:00am and the train back to Ohio was leaving in three hours. Cindy hadn't fallen asleep until about four hours ago—she knew because she spent her night with her eyes trained on the blinking numbers of the clock, listening intently for any sound that wasn't the wind. She was alert the moment she woke up to her alarm, though. She knew she had slept lightly—surely she would have heard if anyone had disturbed their hotel room. Still, her first thought was to check for Natalie.

She was gone.

Cindy immediately ran to the door, prepared to fling it open and run screaming through the hotel. She had to be here somewhere. If not, there was someone at the front desk 24/7—someone would have seen her leave, and with whom.

But the door opened only two inches before resisting. Cindy looked up to see that the sliding lock she had put in place the night before was still in place.

There was a note set just above the door frame, taped in place.

“Thank you for repaying your brother's debt.”

***

No one had seen anything disturbing in the hotel.

Cindy tried every resort. The house that James had claimed to live in—she should have known he was lying. The people that were living there had been in that house for the better part of forty years, and had never seen anyone that fit James' description around the neighborhood. No one at the hospital he claimed to work with knew anyone that fit his description either. She called the police incessantly and was assured every time that the search for her daughter was in full swing.

Cindy even tried contacting the funeral home, the one place she knew with certainty he had been.

No one she spoke to remembered him. After a long delay, she took the train home alone.