My Temporary Life (21 page)

“
It’s okay. You were okay. It’s me. It’s just me.” She says it with resignation, with finality.

I reach out to touch her, but she’s up quickly, and as she turns, I can see a hardness in her face that I’ve never noticed before.

We get back to the school just before lunch time, and watch the quiet school grounds and the adjoining park, knowing that it will soon be bustling with children. I grab the maps and kiss her gently, before getting out of the car. She slides into the driver’s seat, and rolls the window down to talk to me. “I haven’t thanked you for helping me, Malcolm.” She pauses as though she doesn’t know what to say next. “We’re in this together now. It isn’t my secret anymore. It’s ours, both of ours.”

She’s looking into my eyes but she can’t see me. She’s somewhere else for a moment then smiling, she comes back. “I do love you, you know. I honestly do.”

The usual feeling isn’t in her words but I take them, accept them. “I know you do. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be okay.” Just like my Dad told me when he taught me how to punch bags of leaves in our front yard so many years ago. Everything is going to be okay.

She hands me the small ball and smiles as I stuff it into my jacket pocket, making my way to the park bench. As I wander over to the park, I think of all the variables involved with finding someone when you don’t even know for sure what their name is. Does she actually attend this school? Does she still live in this town? And, will we even recognize her if she passes? I think of how we could have done more research, found more information. There are so many things that have to fall into place for us to find Emily, or whatever her name might be now.

I take up my place on the bench and spread one of the maps out beside me, all the while watching the large doors at the side of the school where the children entered in the morning. I can see the back end of the rental car where I parked, but I can’t quite see Heather in the driver’s seat. She’ll be hunched down again, trying to stay out of sight.

The doors open, and a cascade of children come tumbling out, some running, others walking. They hold lunch kits and bags of various sizes and colours, and just as we predicted, most of them come walking towards the park. From my vantage point, I see them this time. It’s much easier than sitting in the car. I think of the images from the old photographs that I left in the car, then look at the faces coming towards me, trying to see a face that might look familiar. Some of them stop and sit on other benches or wander around with half eaten sandwiches in their hands. Others stay in the schoolyard, hurriedly eating, probably trying to get the maximum amount of playtime in before school resumes. When they reach me, most pass right by as though I’m not there. Some of the cheekier ones make a face or whisper to their friends and laugh. It doesn’t matter. I’m close now, close enough to see them.

I have no time for the boys, but I search the faces of all the little girls, looking for a half dimple or a cheeky smile, or something, anything that will make me think that it’s Heather’s Emily. I hold my jacket tight against me, shielding myself from the cold, enjoying watching their smiling faces, even smiling back at some of them. There doesn’t seem to be as many as there were in the morning, so I assume that some are inside, eating or staying warm. The heartier ones run amongst the trees, playing on the schoolyard swings, shouting at each other, trying to be noticed, trying to do something that makes their long schooldays a little easier to bear.

There are two groups of little girls sitting on benches that face each other at the edge of the school yard, where it joins the park. I can see their fair hair, and hear their high pitched laughter, but I can’t see their faces. It’s hard to tell exactly what size a ten-year-old should be, especially when it’s a long time since you were ten. These little girls look ten to me. They look like ten-year-old girls.

I leave my map on the bench and walk closer, trying to get a better look at the little girls. I can’t see the car at all now, but I know that Heather will be watching me or watching the other children in the park. I focus my eyes, trying to see them as they giggle at each other, jumping excitedly while eating their lunches. As I get closer, I see them more clearly. There are two on one bench, and three on another. One girl is talking over the others, always interrupting. I hope that she isn’t Emily. I’m a few feet from their benches, and can see one little girl, sitting at the end, listening, and I wonder if that might be her. I stop every few feet, focusing on the little girls, trying to see something, anything. As I try to remember the face in the old photograph, I hear footsteps coming up fast behind me. Suddenly, there’s a strong hand coming down on my shoulder and I hear a man’s voice.

I freeze in position, and watch as the little girls look at me, then turn back to their lunches, giggling. “Is there something we can do to help you sir?” He asks it in a condescending way, as though he isn’t really interested in the answer.

When I turn, I see two of them, the man who stopped me, and a woman coming behind him. They’ve been walking fast to reach me, but don’t seem out of breath. The man stands with his arms by his side, hands raised out, clenched into fists, as though he’s ready to attack me if my answer isn’t to his liking. “I’m sorry. I’m lost. I was looking for some directions. I have a map. I’m not a local here. I’m just passing through.”

I stumble with my answers, and as I motion towards where I’d been sitting, I notice that the map is gone and that there’s only an empty bench. I look around for the rental car, and the man seems to think that I’m looking for an opening, trying to make a run for it.

“
The police are on their way, Buddy. Just relax. You can tell them your story when they get here.” He pats the kids on their heads as they pass him on their way from the schoolyard to the park. Some look up and wonder what’s happening while others just laugh and run by, continuing their games, ignoring us. Although the man looks to be about my age, he stares at me as though he’s older, like a parent, scolding a child.

“
The police? What are you talking about? Listen, I don’t know what you think is happening here, and I’m sorry if I’ve caused you some confusion, but I really am just lost. I thought somebody could give me directions.” I look at him, hoping for some understanding, knowing that I haven’t done anything wrong.

The woman is standing beside him now, closer, waiting for his lead. The two of them seem fearless, protecting the children in their schoolyard. I look from her face to his, trying to appeal to them. “What did you think I was doing?” I say it as though I’m offended by their vague implications.

“
Well, I get a call that there’s a man lurking around the park, watching kids, staring at them, trying to smile at them.” He answers me as though he’s talking to one of the children. “I don’t know what to make of that. So, I sit by my window, watching you. Then, when I see you sneaking up on those young girls, I think, well, I’ll just come over and investigate for myself, see what kind of a man tries to talk to kids while he’s got a bottle of something or other stuck in his jacket pocket in the middle of the day.” He motions towards the bulge in my pocket, still never taking his eyes from me.

I laugh and without thinking, pull the small ball from my jacket. “It’s a ball, just a little ball. That’s all.” It isn’t until I say it that I realize the stupidity of my remark, and see the police cruiser pulling up beside us.

“
Oh, that’s much better. That makes much more sense,” The woman speaks now, sarcastically, then walks over to the policeman as he gets out of his car.

I stand silently, not wanting to look away from the man, while the woman speaks to the policeman. Finally, after listening to her and nodding in a tired way, he motions for me to walk towards him. The man shadows me, watching my every step. “Do you have some identification on you sir?” The officer speaks with an official tone.

I pull out my wallet and hand it to him, thinking that it’s better not to speak.

“
Our school monitors here, tell me that you were asking elementary school kids for directions. Is that correct Mr Malcolm Wilson? Is that what you were doing?” He pronounces every syllable in my name, as he reads it from my driver’s licence.

“
Yes, I’m lost. I said that. I did have a map, but it must have blown away. I just wanted some help. I’m sorry if I caused any confusion.” I try to appear exasperated, as though I’m being inconvenienced, but he can see that I’m worried, all of them can.

“
You’re on foot, Mr Wilson.” I can’t tell if he’s asking me, or telling me, as he keeps holding onto my licence, staring at it.

I look up and down the empty road, seeing no sign of the rental car, or Heather, and feeling very alone. I nod quietly back to the three of them, as they stand watching me, acknowledging that yes, I am on foot.

The burly officer stares at me for a moment, trying to measure the situation. Then, he holds the back door of his car open and says something that I’ve only ever heard on television, “Get in. Let’s take a ride.”

I reluctantly climb into the back seat and let him close the door behind me. He shakes his head in silent dismay and nods his thanks to the man and woman. They just stand there and watch us as he gets into the front seat to take me to the police station.

CHAPTER 22

I feel nauseous as I sit in the small interview room. I’m frustrated and tired but I know that I’ve done nothing. It’s a small town and I’m sure they aren’t used to strange men walking around school grounds, but I know that I haven’t broken any laws. I had a small ball in my pocket, that’s not against the law anywhere. I tried to speak to some of the little girls. That’s not against the law either. They’re being careful. They’re just being careful and I haven’t done anything wrong.

After taking my belongings and identification to have it checked out the officer comes back only once. I suppose to make sure that I’m still there. The station, from what I see when I’m led in through the back door, is small, but seems to have all the modern equipment that any other big city office might have.

I try to remember the name of Terry’s lawyer, just in case they find some way to lay a charge against me. I met him at one of Terry’s summer parties, the same summer parties that now seem so far away. I wonder if it’s appropriate to ask to call him now, or wait until they decide whether or not to charge me. I think of calling Terry, telling him everything, or George, telling him to get on a plane and get out here. Get out here and help me straighten everything out. I wonder about Heather, where she is, why she didn’t stay. I know that she must have had a reason. Something must have happened to make her leave me there. I don’t know much about the police and I don’t know anything about small-town police but instinctively I think that my best plan is to not talk, and to give them as little information as possible. I’m just about to stand up, when the door opens, and the first officer comes in with an older man, who looks official, senior.

“
Malcolm, you don’t mind if I call you Malcolm do you? I’m Staff Sergeant Macklin. I’ll get right to the point. What are you doing here? What are you doing in Woodbine? And, more importantly, what were you doing in the schoolyard?” He wastes no time, leaning forward on the desk that separates us, asking his questions in a friendly, almost familiar, tone.

I’d made a deal with myself as I sat waiting for the officer to come back. I decided that I’d keep Heather’s secret, our secret, for as long as I could. I decided that I wouldn’t say her name, or Emily’s, but if I heard the sound of a cell door closing behind me, I’d tell them everything. If that did happen, I thought the worst case scenario would be that they might be understanding, and perhaps even help us find the little girl, or at least tell us if she still lived there.

“
I’m travelling, just passing through. I told the officer this already. I’m staying at the motel out by the highway. It’s the Blue something.” I speak in my genuinely frustrated and tired voice.

“
The Bluebird, yes, you’re registered there, Malcolm. Go on,” Macklin says it in a quiet way, as though he’s a great detective solving an important crime.

“
I took a walk, tried to find my bearings, and got lost. I was going to ask someone for directions, anyone. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that I was in a schoolyard. I was just lost. That’s all.” I’d had hours, sitting in the interview room, trying to think of what I was going to say, and it sounded plausible in my head when I thought it out. It sounded like it made sense, right up until I said it.

The first officer stays quiet, seeming to measure my reactions, while Macklin keeps asking his questions. “The ball Malcolm, why were you carrying the little ball? Were you going to play with the children?”