Project Pallid (20 page)

“Right,
Dad. Loving it.” It came from her with limited enthusiasm.

“And
where were you before here?” Mom jumped from her end of the table.

“Baltimore.
We moved from Baltimore, Martha.”

“And
you worked for the hospital there, too?”

“Yes,
Ma’am.”

I
stopped chewing and locked eyes with Catee, who’d looked up to simultaneously
lock hers with mine. He was lying. We’d read the words ourselves. He worked for
that Crosspoint Pharmaceuticals place when they were back in Baltimore. He
wasn’t working at any hospital. Did his transfer here really mean he had to lie
to my parents about
everything
?

“And
is that where you’re from?” Mom continued.

“Born
and raised. That’s where I met Sarah, and that’s where we settled down.
Eventually, we had Catee there, too,” he reached to affectionately run his hand
over her head, “and life couldn’t have been sweeter. I worked regular hours,
and I got the job done on both fronts: home
and
work. We lived a good
life, back when Catee’s mom was alive.”

I
couldn’t believe my eyes and ears. He was spitting bold-faced lies. Catee told
me about all the places they’d been shipped off to, and that they eventually
settled in Baltimore, where her dad was completely disenfranchised from her.
None of what he was saying was true. None of how he was acting was real. It was
all a show, put on for my parents, and it was making Catee and me
look like the bad guys—like everything we’d
seen and read was entirely made up. I wanted to jump up, scream, and call him a
liar to his face, but I understood the inevitably grave outcome of that, so I
shut my mouth instead.

I
couldn't even look up to show my disdain, knowing the satisfaction he’d take
from the helplessness of my situation and the degenerative stare I’d likely get
in return.

“So
how long did you work at the hospital in Baltimore for?” Mom continued her
probe.

“All
Catee’s life. So that’s what … fourteen years? That seems about right.”

“And
what brought you this far North? I know it can’t be these New England winters
…” My dad joined my mom’s inquiry.

“Well,
it was a promotion of sorts.”

LIAR
! My head screamed so loudly, I worried
everyone else might hear it. I looked nervously around but saw no reactions.

“They’ve
got a project they’ve been working on up here, and they needed some expertise.
I suppose I was the right guy for the job. Soon after Catee’s mom passed, I got
the reassignment, and it seemed like a fine opportunity for us to make a fresh
start and to lay down some new roots. So, I packed us up, and we made the move
to Madison.”

He
was completely pulling the wool over my parents’ eyes by painting an entirely false
picture of himself. The man sitting at our table didn’t care about his family
anymore. His family was Catee. And while he should’ve been protecting her, he
was treating her like a stranger, and now like a hostage. He wasn’t anything
like the person he was putting on display for my parents—nothing at all.

“Well,
you and your wife raised a wonderful daughter, David. She’s been a pleasure to
have in our home, and we’re grateful you’ve allowed her to become part of our
family, too.”

I
forgot to mention to Mom that Mr. Laverdier didn’t know about Catee coming to
our family dinners. And as far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever
stepped foot in our house. The look on his face was unsettling as he processed
her words and turned to Catee.

“You’ve
been coming here?” His voice turned authoritative and stern.

Finally!
Now everyone’s going to see what he’s really like! Now he’s finally going to
snap, and everyone’s going to see what a monster he is!
I thought and hoped.

“Yeah,
Dad. A few times. Damian’s mom invited me to dinner a few times. We took the
bus here and she brought me home after. You’ve been so busy at work lately that
I didn’t think it’d be a problem,” she spoke sheepishly.

Both
my parents, and even Nicole, looked up with mild alarm, sensing the tension
that had suddenly consumed the Laverdiers’ side of the table. They recognized
how my mom’s casual statement was a revelation for Catee’s dad, and they
suspected, quite rightly, that it wouldn’t go over so well.

Mr.
Laverdier took a deep, cleansing breath before he laid down his fork. His
interlocked fingers rose to touch his nose, and he contemplatively closed his
eyes before he audibly exhaled and continued.

“I
want to thank the two of you for that, Martha and Darryl. For inviting Catee
here to spend time with your family when hers has been so disjointed. I can’t
do anything to bring back her mother, and since we got here, I’ve been so
consumed with my work at the hospital that I haven’t been able to give her the
attention or support she needs right now. I’m sorry for that, Catee,” he turned
to her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been. And I thank
you folks,” he said, with a look back and forth between my parents, “for
inviting my daughter into your home.”

“Really,
David, it’s been our plea—”

“But,”
Mr. Laverdier interrupted my mom, “things will be different from this point
forward. Things will be
very
different,” he spoke with absolution and
with a look back to Catee. “You see,” he continued, “if I can jump into your
High and Low sharing, I’d like to start with my Low.”

“You’d
better,” Nicole spoke up. “Mom get’s a little fanatic about ending on a good
note.”

Mom
nodded her head in approval.

“Well,”
he continued, “the Low for me is a little bigger than a one day low. Actually,
it’s been a four-day low, now.” Nobody said a word to disrupt the suspense that
hung heavy in the air. “Madison General let me go this past week.” Catee and I
looked to each other with shared confusion:
Why was he let go? Did it have
something to do with his long hours?
And we looked to each other with
shared clarity:
That’s why he suddenly had time to stand guard at their
house!

“That’s
terrible to hear! What, with you making the move all this way,” Mom
sympathized. “Can I ask why?”

“Martha,
that’s none of our business,” Dad reprimanded her curiosity from the other end
of the table.

“No,
no. That’s quite all right. Quite all right. I don’t mind sharing. It had
nothing to do with me, in fact. The hospital simply made some cuts to
streamline operations, and being the newest on payroll, I was one of the first
to be let go. It was nothing personal. Nothing reflective of my work. It’s
simply business as usual in a down economy. I can’t hold any grudges with
that,” he lied. “I’ve just got to press forward to make things work from here.”

“We’re
sorry to hear that, David. Please, let Darryl or me know if there’s anything we
can do to help.” My dad looked to her with appropriate concern for extending
such open-ended offerings to someone who’d been a virtual stranger, only two
hours before. Mom’s responsive look reverted his to his plate.

“That’s
fine, Martha. That’s just fine. I appreciate your offer, but Catee and I will
be just fine. In fact, we’ve been better than ever since it happened. It’s
given us time to finally reconnect since the passing of her mother.”

I
knew it was a lie. Catee knew it was a lie. My parents
should
have known
it was a lie, but we were slowly losing them to her dad’s conniving
storytelling. And as much as I wanted to interrupt and shut it down, my hands
were tied. It was a no-win situation for Catee and me. My only available
maneuver would be to talk with my parents about it in private, later on.

“So,
my High, Mr. Laverdier continued, “is that we’re looking at another place, on
the outskirts of town—in Damariscotta.”

“I’ve
got some older couples out there who bring their cars into the garage a few
times a year.” Dad, having finished his meal, acknowledged the spot-of-a-town
that’d been referenced. Catee looked back and forth
between
the two of them, obviously hearing about it for the first time. Her look was
panicked.

“Yup.
It’s a little place, just about in the middle of nowhere. It’s on a small pond,
totally surrounded by trees, with only seasonal neighbors for miles. It’s the
perfect spot for Catee and me to finally settle and regroup. Isn’t that right,
Catee?”

“What?
Where?! We’re moving again!?” Her words were no longer subservient. She’d
rediscovered her voice—that part of her character that first drew me to
her, months before. “Where am I going to go to school??” she asked. “Are you
pulling me from Madison?”

“No,
no, Catee,” he said, patting her knee under the table. “It’s not until the end
of the school year. Please, don’t worry. I’d never take you away from—”

“I’m
not going.”

“Catee,
we’ll talk more about this la—”

“NO.
No, we won’t. I’m NOT going!”

“We
will talk about this later.” His drawn-out words were delivered sternly. They
came with a razor-like edge that lacerated Catee and slumped her back in her
chair, injured and defeated.

“Please,
pardon my daughter,” Mr. Laverdier readdressed my parents. “This is the first
she’s hearing of this and clearly, it’s something the two of us are going to
have to talk more about LATER.” He emphasized his final word and looked back to
Catee with it. “But I think it’s something we’ll both agree is safest for the
two of us.”

The
selection and gravity of his words went unnoticed at the time. No one could
have foreseen what was happening back then. The little we’d learned lent almost
no perspective to the magnitude of his plan. No one understood the power of a
brilliant mind, bent on revenge, and driven by irrepressible sorrow.

And
that’s what makes it even more disgusting to remember that I actually
apologized to him. That, by the time my turn to share came, the prompt had been
dancing on the tip of my mom’s tongue for nearly an hour. And, after all he’d
revealed, it was something she thought I
especially
owed him.
And
,
because it was part of the agreement I’d made with her, I couldn’t take it
back.

My
Low that day was a lie of my own as I falsely shared shame for not respecting
his home and his wishes. I apologized for being in his house uninvited, and for
not giving Catee the space he’d specifically requested I give her. I resented
every word as I said them; they tasted filthy and disgusting, but I delivered
them anyhow.

His
look of sick satisfaction almost made me barf.

And
when dinner came to an end, Mr. Laverdier bowed back out the door, whisking
Catee away before we had any time to talk. There was so much to discuss, to
fume over, to mount plans to retaliate against, but we were entirely without
arms. The distance between us held us captive—mile-wise
and
parentally—and without the caving of one of the two, that’s how we’d
remain.

The
complete disdain I felt toward her dad—the utter hatred for his
two-sidedness and his treatment of us—made me want to take him down even
more. To do something that would make him feel the suffering I was feeling
because of his unnecessary immersion into his daughter’s life—our
life—and for his inexplicable need to keep us apart.

Closing
the door behind him, I vowed he wouldn’t be an obstacle anymore.

Not
in that life.

Not
in this life.

And
as long as I have mine, he should worry for his.

May 10
^th:
Day 9

Those
are becoming the only thoughts that rule my head now. Thinking of him and how
it’s because of him, that all this happened. That I’m having to make this
choice. Having to decide what to do next as I hover over something that was
once my dad.

His
skin is still warm and lifelike, but there’s no life left in it. I’m not sure
when it left. Was it minutes ago, with my knife in his eye? Or was it back at
the garage, when they overtook him? I can’t say, because I honestly don’t know.
Maybe I’m the one who’s ultimately responsible, especially if there’s a cure
now. But he would’ve killed me if I hadn’t. I didn’t have a choice. Mr.
Laverdier didn’t leave me one.

The
door above is still open and no matter what, it’s my first priority. It doesn’t
matter what I do with my dad’s body; nothing will stop others from finding me
if I don’t secure it fast.

But
how much longer can I expect to stay hidden when I’ve already been discovered?
Then again, Dad knew about this place—others don’t. Maybe it was a fluke.
Maybe I’m just as hidden as I was before. If I can only get that door closed,
maybe I can still wait them out.

I
don’t know what a body does, especially after days of decomposition, but I
can’t imagine it’s a good thing, and I just want it out of here. Even if it
doesn’t start to stink, I can’t handle looking at him much longer.

I
wipe the tears that blur my eyes, reposition to my dad’s head, and grab onto
his armpits.
 
In a gravel-grinding
semi-circle, I turn and drag him to the bottom of the stairs. I adjust my grip
and, quiet as possible, tug his body up the first two steps.