The Things We Lost, page 6
Gina grins when she sees me but orders a drink before walking over. I stand to meet her.
“Hola, Maddie.” She smiles and pulls me into a tight hug. Her hair smells of fresh roses, sweet and sickening. “Oh, it is so good to see you.”
“Welcome back,” I say as we pull away and return to the table. Her accent is stronger than I remember, but being back home immersed in her culture likely accentuated it.
“The return of La Princesa.” She wiggles her shoulders as she says her old self-coined nickname in a singsong tone. “It’s good to be back.” Then she blinks her large eyes. “How are you?”
I shrug, unsure what to say. Is there a way to explain that my life is in turmoil? That I should be in my thirties with a family, not my twenties planning a socialite’s bachelorette or that the woman in front of me should be dead? I don’t know what to say to any of this, so I smile and say, “Great.”
Despite my enthusiasm, Gina doesn’t buy it. “Ah no, Maddie. I know something is up.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I look away from her, unsure how to bring up our shared past.
“It’s about Brian, right?”
I don’t answer right away, and Gina continues.
“Don’t let the fact that Brain has a parole hearing freak you out. That bastard isn’t about to get off for what he did.” She grabs my hand. “Have the police asked you for another statement? I said I would give one.”
“No. Besides, what could I say to help?”
“Maddie, it was our testimony that landed him in prison in the first place.” Gina pulls away from me. “You were the only witness. You took me to the hospital. Even if there was other evidence against him, he’s in prison because of us.”
I swallow the lump that formed in my throat as the ideas swirl in my head. I witnessed the accident that killed Gina in our former life. I am the reason she is still alive. Something changed that prevented Brian from doing whatever he did. Feeling dizzy, I place my face in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut in hopes the world will still.
“Hey.” Gina’s voice is gentle, like a mother speaking to her wailing child. “It’s okay, Maddie. I’m tired of all of it. I’m ready to give my statement and then, if I have to, get a restraining order.”
I risk a glance into her eyes. They’re filled with concern, glistening with tears.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m surprised he’s getting out so soon.”
“He didn’t succeed in killing me,” Gina says, now looking at the table rather than at me. “You made sure of that.”
Then she touches my arm, and a familiar feeling fills me. There’s a flash of memory.
A darkened sky, her arm wrapped around my shoulders as we hurry away from the parked car. A glance behind me reassures me that he’d been struck hard and was still lying on the ground.
Gina is weeping, her body shaking, racked with sobs. “Why?” she keeps muttering. “Why?” I try to talk to her down, calm her sobs, and assure her that she’ll be okay. But my words fall on deaf ears as we continue down the street. I have one goal in mind. Get to the hospital. Call the police. But my phone is missing.
When she releases my arm, I flash back to the present and nod. My throat is too dry to speak. Did I just see part of that night, a memory of this life, or something from the past? Or maybe I am dreaming all of this. I can’t be sure.
“I’ve never forgotten that night,” Gina says. “I can’t forget it. He was awful to us both, you know.”
I only nod again. I might not remember the exact events of that night, but I do remember Brian. Awful doesn’t begin to describe him.
“Have you seen him since?” I ask when neither of us speaks.
Gina shakes her head. “Not since the day of the trial.”
I shiver at the mention of the trial, and another memory comes to light. Brian getting too close, swearing he’d make us pay for what we’d done. Vowing we wouldn’t be comfortable for long. His lifeless eyes void of emotion, his laugh hollow, haunting. If not him, someone would avenge him, some time, somehow.
We’re quiet again, avoiding each other’s gazes, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same as me. Is she remembering the trial, considering the threat of revenge? Her expression doesn’t give away her inner thoughts. She looks neither scared nor confident. Instead, she looks tired, as she said, and emotionless.
“I guess you’ve been gone since then,” I say. Facebook told me of her adventures abroad, helping others. Had she been distracting herself from the memories?
“Yeah,” she says. “I had to get out. Do something for me, you know? I always thought helping others would make me feel better after everything. And it did. I wouldn’t have come back if I didn’t have to.”
“Because of your husband?” I ask; at least that was what Arabella implied.
Gina cocks her head towards me. “What has Arabella been telling everyone?”
“That he was as bad as Brian.”
She cracks a smile. “Dios mío, Arabella was always one for exaggeration.”
“It’s not true?”
“No,” Gina says. “But we are very different people. We met by fluke when I had a particularly stubborn sea turtle to help. He was my saviour then, but when I told him why I was coming home, he flew off the handle. Pretty much forbade me to come back. He couldn’t protect me here and doesn’t think I can protect myself. He only wanted to control me. He never really loved me. So, I left him there.”
Now I smile. That sounds like the Gina I know, hard headed once she put her mind to something.
“Plus, after everything you did, I wasn’t going to make you face Brian alone.” She looks away from me. Her expression is rigid. “Arabella said you’ve been talking to Dee again.”
“Just once.”
“Be careful around her. After what she did with Brian—” Gina pauses. “I hope you’re sure you can trust her.”
I nod, at a loss for words.
She stands, and I follow. “Sorry to cut this short, Maddie, but I have to go meet my lawyer.”
“I’ll walk out with you.”
Once we are outside, she gives me a hug. “Keep in touch, sí? I’ll let you know what happens with Brian.”
“Thanks, Gina. I’m glad you’re home.” And glad she’s alive.
“See you.”
I watch her leave down the street, then I grab my phone and dial Jayson.
“Hey, babe,” he answers. “How’s Gina?”
“Jayson, did you know about Brian Cordes’s parole hearing?”
Silence.
“Jayson?”
“I’m sorry, Mads, I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“Why would I be freaked out?” I’m unable to hide the tremor in my voice. I may not entirely know what happened, but I certainly remember Brian’s aggression. Worse, I remember how he looked at the funeral, standing off to the side in the pouring rain—the way he then grabbed me and threatened me.
“I know what he said before he went away,” Jayson says. “But it doesn’t matter. Brian is going to have a hard time getting out of this one. They won’t just let him off.”
“What happened?” I demand before I can stop myself.
Again, I’m met with silence. This time I wait for him to speak.
“Maddie, it’s been a rough couple of days,” Jayson says. “I think you should go home and relax. I’ll head out early today to be with you, okay?”
It’s clear I’m not about to get any more answers from him.
“Fine.”
“I’ll see you soon.” The phone call ends before I can say anything else. I can’t go home feeling like this. There’s only one person in the city who I can always count on for straight answers, and even though I doubt she’ll talk to me, I have to try.
Eight
NOW
I wait outside Dee’s Davisville high-rise condo building for nearly twenty minutes before I dare to go inside and buzz her unit number. No one answers, and security is away from the front desk, but luckily someone comes through the door while I wait and I’m quick to grab the elevator to her floor.
I knock twice before I hear footsteps in the suite, and when the door opens, I’m met by a twenty-six-year-old Dee complete with bright purple hair and round cheeks, exactly how I remember her. Nostalgia whirls up inside me. University nights when we drank bottles of wine in our pyjamas and watched cheesy rom-coms and that stupid human sexuality course she insisted we both take as an elective. I’d never get the textbook photos of STIs out of my head.
Dee’s confused expression shifts to anger as she tries to shut the door. My hand flies out to stop her.
“Dee, wait.”
“Why should I?” she snaps, her narrow gaze fixed on me. “It’s all my fault, after all. And let me guess, Brian getting parole, that’s my fault too, right?”
“Dee, please, I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t care. Last month I needed to talk to you and you shut me out. I’m not interested.” She pushes harder on the door, but I resist. Her five-foot-four frame is easy to fight against.
“C’mon, Dee. I don’t know what happened between us.”
The pressure on the door lets up. Her gaze hasn’t softened, but she tilts her head with interest. “How can you say that?”
Seeing young Dee makes all the word vomit I’d been holding back spew to the surface. I know I sound crazy, but I need to tell someone to lift the constricting pressure off my chest.
“Four nights ago, I was thirty-six and living a completely different life,” I explain. “Then I woke up in my house, with a new boyfriend, no kids, and everything changed. I have no idea what the hell is going on.”
A weight lifts from my shoulders, hopeful my former best friend will be receptive.
Her expression doesn’t change. “What are you talking about? You sound crazy.”
I do, and I wonder if maybe I am. Maybe the life I thought I had never existed. I’d looked into finding a therapist to talk to, someone to analyze what had happened to me. Though I doubt anyone could explain this phenomenon.
“Maybe I am, but I don’t know when we stopped being friends or why I’m dating Jayson. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
She stares at me for what feels like a long time before she steps back and opens the door. “Fine. Come in.”
Relief makes my shoulders drop. I step into her condo, and it is exactly how I remember it. The back wall is home to a large bookshelf, cluttered and filled with various books and pointless collectables. Figurines from The Simpsons are arranged like they are acting out a scene. A miniature replica of the USS Enterprise is encased in plastic. The entire Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings, His Dark Materials, and Narnia, all in hardcover. There are two lightsabers crossed on the wall like swords—Luke Skywalker’s green one and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s blue. She has a replica of Harry Potter’s wand on a stand on her desk that I remember picking up with her from the exhibit at the Ontario Science Centre. I wonder if I was still a part of that in this life.
Dee makes room for me on the old leather couch in her TV room and sits in the creaky rocking chair across from me. Her stiff posture doesn’t ease; she crosses her arms over her chest. She doesn’t trust me.
The way she stares me down makes my heart ache. This is the godmother to my girls, the one who loved them and cared for them when Nathan and I were away. She was Aunty Dee to Ava and DeeDee to Haley. She was the one I would call whenever something went wrong. Especially after drunken nights that resulted in stupid fights with Nathan. Her voice would be groggy as I pulled her from sleep with my phone call, but no resentment or annoyance present. She would be at my house in minutes whenever I needed her. I kept her secret for a year before she was ready to come out to her parents and I was her first call after her mother’s passing. We spent the night crying and remembering, making the morning seem a little brighter.
I miss her support almost as much as I miss the way my girls’ tiny hands would close around my fingers or their arms would try to wrap around my waist.
“Go ahead,” Dee says, not trying to mask her resentment. This strange change in our friendship is something I can’t grasp.
I drop my gaze from her accusing eyes. “I have daughters, or I did only a few nights ago. Beautiful girls, ones that you loved beyond words. I know it sounds crazy. But I have a whole life different from this one. A life with no Jayson, no Arabella. A life with you still in it.”
I glance upwards but her expression remains rigid. I know it all sounds too insane to be true.
“Their names are Ava and Haley.” I choke on a sob, and I try to force back my tears. “You waited at the hospital through both their births. Ava, my eldest, is brilliant like my brother and wise beyond her years, and Haley’s ability to grasp empathy amazes me every day.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “In this life, you were their godmother. We never stopped being friends. You were at every birthday, a part of every memory. Our friendship was unbreakable. And now, life couldn’t be more different.”
Dee continues to regard me with disdain. She doesn’t believe me.
“And the biggest surprise for me beyond our lost friendship is that I don’t think I’ve ever met Nathan.”
Now Dee’s stern expression breaks. “Nathan Page?”
I allow a small smile to form on my lips. She’d set us up in my other life; I had no doubt she still knew him now. They’d met the summer before university at camp. Nathan had been a counsellor and Dee a brand-new counsellor-in-training. He was three years older and had been her mentor; they became fast friends. It wasn’t until he graduated from Dalhousie University out east and returned to Toronto that I met him. Yet she’d regaled me with how amazing he was for years before then.
“I have no idea what happened to him.”
“You decided you were too pissed to come to my party,” Dee scoffs. “So, Nathan thought you stood him up.”
A quick calculation tells me I dated Brian four months longer than I should have, probably thanks to my stubbornness.
Dee continues. “It was a shame too, because he is a much better man than Jayson.”
“Well, you proved that, didn’t you?” My hand flies up to cover my mouth, but it’s too late. I have no idea where that resentment came from. I confided in her only to push her away.
Dee’s narrow expression returns. “So much for not remembering.” She pushes herself from the chair. “I should have known you were coming here to spew bullshit as usual. I think you should go now.”
“No, Dee, wait.” I stand too but don’t move towards her door. I honestly don’t know what I expected from her when I told her about my old life, but I still need answers. “What about Brian?”
“What about him?”
“What happened to land him in prison?”
Dee plants her hands on her hips. “You happened.” Then she waves towards her door. “Now go.”
I follow her command but hesitate before I leave. “I’m sorry for what transpired between us. I always wanted to stay close.”
“Don’t be.” Dee shrugs. “I got to see who you really were.” She shuts the door before I can respond and leaves me standing alone in the hallway.
I choke back the tears of mourning for our lost relationship. We were the best of friends, even into adulthood. Once I trusted Dee with almost everything and now it seems I had forfeited it all.
Nine
THEN
I stirred my coffee aimlessly as I waited for Dee to arrive; she was always late. We’d been meeting at this exact spot every Sunday at two for almost three years now. It was our weekly best friend time and my break from Nathan and the children.
When she finally blundered through the door she looked like her usual tornado self. Her shirt was poorly buttoned, and her purse hung off her shoulder, almost spilling its contents across the café floor.
“Sorry!” she called from the door, making the few patrons in the quaint place glance in her direction. “You wouldn’t believe the shit show of a morning I’ve had.” Dee plopped down across from me and gathered her green hair into a tight bun. Her blond roots were showing, something that usually bothered her, but she was too flustered apparently to care.
I gestured to the empty cup in front of her and the coffeepot beside it. The waitress knew our orders. We were regulars by now.
“Explain,” I said. “Something to do with Maria, perhaps?” I motioned to the misbuttoned shirt as I referred to Dee’s on-again, off-again girlfriend.
Dee glanced down then rolled her eyes, unbuttoning then rebuttoning her shirt. “No, I’m done with her. Old news.” She waved her off like she was so passé. “But there’s this new guy, Wayne.” She wiggled her eyebrows with a suggestion.
“And Wayne is…”
“The IT guy at work.”
I snorted a laugh. “Because work flings have worked out for you in the past.”
“There’s always a first time.” Dee shrugged with a wicked grin. “Plus, this one may be worth it. He’s got abs like a Ruffles chip; you just want to lick those salty ridges.” Classic Dee.
I didn’t feign a smile.
“Ugh.” Dee dropped her hands to the table. “What’s wrong with you, girl?”
I reached for my coffee. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
“That’s the fakest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dee reached across the table and grasped my arm. “Now spill.”
My throat constricted. I was unsure if I should tell Dee the truth and make my problems hers. After all, Dee was the reason I’d met Nathan in the first place.
“It’s Nathan,” I finally said. “I don’t know what to do.”
