Accidental exposure, p.12
Accidental Exposure, page 12
Gale does nothing but think for a few seconds.
“I can come back later,” you offer.
“One moment, I’ll just make a call,” she replies. She rings someone, speaks to them and says, “All right Mrs Crown, conference room A.”
You can hear Will’s warning ringing in your brain as you move forward. You’re grinning nervously. You reach your destination, then turn the handle and push the heavy slab of wood out of the way to find a couple of familiar faces. Two people stand within the room, one man and one woman. The man wears the black robes of a crown prosecutor while the woman is dressed in a plain, dark suit. They smile sincerely as you enter.
A chorus of “Welcome back,” greets you and then it’s straight down to business.
“I suppose you’ve returned for some work then?” Mrs Clark, the director of public prosecutions asks.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. We would love to get your opinion on a few of these pricks. We’ll take you back on as a junior solicitor for the moment, until you get back in the swing of things. How’s the head? Is there any ongoing treatment?”
“It’s fine. They’ve got a psychiatrist monitoring my personal life, but I’m physically fine.”
You look from one set of pupils to the other, wondering if these professionals are aware of how insistent they appear.
“A shrink hey? Who is it?” Mrs Clark asks.
“William Black.”
“Honestly? That’s interesting.”
“Why is that?”
“Just be careful with him. He was helping us as an expert witness with a real psycho last year when his testimony had to be discounted from the proceedings. It became obvious that he was too close to the defendant. He made house calls outside of office hours and even drove two hours to speak to the woman’s mother. He just showed up unannounced.”
“Really?” you act surprised, but you believe it .
“Yes, really. Dr Black swore it was innocent and even thought he should be commended for working extra hard, but we couldn’t tolerate such suspicious behaviour. It was a criminal case for God’s sake.”
There’s silence for a moment before Mark Bressler speaks.
“You can begin with me. We’ll start slow,” Mark says in a quick, snapping Zimbabwean accent. “The case is important and it should be simple, but it’s been dragging out for far too long. The courts seem to think that this flippin’ maniac deserves leniency because he’s already dying. I’d like to finish the flippin’ job myself, but I’ll settle for a sentence that will make sure he goes behind bars until he goes in the ground.”
You know Mark; you’ve known him for years. He learned to march and salute before he was old enough to butter his own bread. There’s a mean hatred in this fellow, but politeness has been hammered into him so hard that he finds it impossible to even swear. Instead, he replaces any foul language with softer substitutes like a father teaching himself to say ‘fudge’ in front of a young child.
“Sounds good. What are the details?” you ask, aware of the fact that these people must have decided upon your new position within the seconds you were standing at Gale’s desk.
“His name is Samuel Forcale. They call him the ‘fortunate death’ in Thailand because he runs extremely large shipments of heroin from there into the Northern Territory of Australia. Of course, his product and his damn, excuse me, his bleedin’ criminal undertakings are common on the streets of Sydney.”
“Fortunate Death?”
“Yes. Because if you go into business with this man you are certain to make your fortune, then die shortly after. Of course, there is no shortage of fools who still work for him. We find pieces of them and their families all through the deserts to the west. Needless to say, our information is all rumour and hearsay. As the name suggests, there aren’t any witnesses to testify to his operation, but we have some evidence of smaller crimes, mainly robberies, he has orchestrated. If we can make anything stick and he goes to prison it should kill him so if he took a piss in a public place thirty years ago we’ll be hitting him with it.”
“All right. So do you have a file or something I could take home to catch me up?” you ask.
“No,” Mark replies. “All work is done here at the office. Forcale has been known to steal documents in the past and it’s safer if he knows that our homes contain no information.”
“All right.”
“Relax for now,” Mrs Clark takes over the conversation. “We’ll see you again on Monday. And be fresh, there’s a lot of work to be done.”
Chapter 28: A New Friend
You return home with a spring in your step, proud of the way you’ve reclaimed a piece of your old identity. You walk into your bedroom and kick off your shoes, hoping to see Leo in the apartment next door. He won’t understand why this day is so important and there’s no way you’re going to explain your past to him, but everyone likes to share good news.
You’re in luck. Leo is leaning against his kitchen counter, watching the numbers on his microwave tick down. He hasn’t noticed you and he’s singing some incoherent tune to himself. Leo’s tapping a fork on his bottom lip in time with the beat and his head tilts from side to side, probably in time with the turning of the microwave plate.
“Evening neighbour!” you shout.
“Jesus,” Leo curses. “Living next to you is gonna be fun,” he continues. You’re still laughing at him. He moves to the window and places a hand on the ledge. The muscles in his arms stiffen in supple contours.
Stop staring!
“Why are you so happy?” Leo asks as ding, the microwave sounds.
“I got a new job. Well, it’s actually for the same office and it’s not as good as the old job.”
“Right, so you’re happy that you got a worse job than you used to have. For the same people. You’re a strange person.”
“It’s a good thing. Trust me.”
“Yeah, you look pleased,” Leo muses and hums to himself, thinking. “So you were dropped off yesterday with no clothes and no job. Now you’re glad you seem to be moving backwards?” He’s twirling the fork around with his hand as if it was part of a Ouija board and he expected it to give him some mysterious answer to an unasked question.
“Annette,” he continues, “You are by far the most interesting person I’ve met in our little housing complex. I insist you come over and explain yourself. I have the night off work, how long has it been since you got drunk? ”
You think for a second. When was it? Before Andy lost his sight? No, on the holiday with the Hunters.
“Over a year,” you reply.
“Jesus! Come over; we’ll cook and get drunk. That’s what neighbours are supposed to do right?”
Leo begs a little more but he doesn’t need to, you’re on his front step in only a minute.
Your evening is long, stretching into the early hours of the morning. You’re hammered. Leo’s hammered. Are you drinking rum? You never drink rum; who cares. You’re talking. You’re talking a lot. What have you told this stranger? Oh no, you remember describing the accident and the blood on the kitchen floor and the nut house.
“That’s awful,” Leo replies. You nod. You sit beside each other on the couch and turn slightly towards one another. Your leg is wet. You look down to see red wine on the couch and look back up to see Leo laughing. His huge, gorgeous smile coats his whole head; his whole soul, the way beauty coats a peacock with its feather in a fan.
What would Brian think if he could see you now?
“It’s great to actually talk to someone about what happened,” you continue. “The shrinks only want to know how I feel. They’re a waste of time, as if you need a degree to figure out I’m pissed off.”
“It’s nice that you had that once. A husband and a son,” Leo replies.
“Had a husband, have a son.”
“OK, sorry.”
“I don’t mean to be rude, but Andy is still my son. I just need to get him back. But what about you? Tell me your story.”
“My story? OK.” You can tell that Leo’s pleased you asked, but he pretends the question is an imposition.
“My parents were rich, but I didn’t really like that.”
“You didn’t like being rich?”
“Nah. Horse riding and tea in uncomfortable clothes isn’t really my thing,” he chuckles. “So I left when I was sixteen.”
“Six-teen?” you stammer .
“Yep. Just sort of drifted around for a couple of years, then met a girl. She was the lead singer in a band that toured Asia, then Europe, so my roaming branched out a little bit.”
“Pretty serious tour. What was the name of the band?”
“The Golden Arches,” Leo reveals.
“The Golden Arches? They’re huge!”
“Yeah, we had a pretty wild time.”
“Why did it stop? Did you get homesick?” you ask.
“Nope. Got weird after I screwed everyone in the band.”
You can’t help but laugh and as you try to calm down, Leo joins in and the pair of you say nothing for a whole minute.
“Then I came home. I tried regular bar work, but it’s not exciting enough. I’m at the Fluffy Duck most nights now. It’s a strip club in Kings Cross.”
“Cool. Do you enjoy it?” you ask. The word cool doesn’t really sound right coming out of your mouth, but it’s the exact sentiment you wish to offer.
“Yeah, most of the time. I’m actually saving to move to Brazil. I should have enough in a few months.”
“That’s great, Brazil should be fun,” you comment as your eyelids begin to droop. You’re at that point where you know you’ll pass out soon, whether you’re in your bed or not.
“Yeah, I’ve never been but I’ve travelled a fair bit and South America has always been a dream. I’ve even been studying the language for a couple of years.”
“Impressive,” you admit as you feel your head tilt back and your eyes fall shut.
You and Leo both wake in the same apartment at around the same time, still on the couch. You open your eyes to see Leo standing over you with an open carton of orange juice in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He takes a huge swig out of the open vessel and chases it with a puff before offering some of the drink to you.
“Got a glass?” you ask. Leo laughs a little and strolls back to the kitchen to pour some juice into a coffee mug.
“Here you go your highness.”
“Sorry, I’m a little hungover. Where’s your roommate? I didn’t see him at all last night. ”
“What?” Leo answers as he drops two pieces of bread into the toaster and you make your way to the toilet.
You hear Leo shouting through the bathroom door, “Annette, what roommate?”
“I saw a guy rummaging around in your fridge the other night. Isn’t that your roommate?”
The cool water feels good between your fingers as you wash your hands. You splash your face a little.
As you open the bathroom door, Leo is standing directly on the other side with a serious look on his face.
“I don’t have a roommate and I wasn’t home. Who did you see in my apartment?”
Chapter 29: A New Enemy
“Annette, are you talking about two nights ago? Your first night here? I wasn’t home; I worked until seven in the morning. So who was in my place?” Leo asks in one hasty stream.
“I don’t know, I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman going through your fridge. I thought she was your girlfriend or something,” you reply, feeling like an idiot.
Leo walks briskly away from you muttering something to himself. You follow him into the bedroom where you watch him take the back off of a portable radio and peer into the battery compartment. You can’t see what Leo’s found in there, but you know it must be important because he lets out a sigh of relief before returning the device to where he found it. You watch the wooden beads in his hair float past as he returns to the kitchen.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says before you ask any questions.
“So who was that girl then?” you ask.
“Don’t worry about it dude. She’s just some jerk.”
“Well what if she comes back? Do you want me to say something?”
“No,” he pauses. “Definitely don’t say anything, just leave her. I can handle it.”
You can tell that whatever is going on has been doing so for a while; you’re the only new factor. You’ll pretend nothing happened; you’ve got enough to deal with in your own life.
You like spending time with Leo. He’s strange, unpredictable and infatuating. Three things you’re certain Will is going to hate.
You settle into your new place within a few days and you don’t miss the size of the old house, only the company. You see Leo a couple of times a day as he is coming home or you’re leaving and you always stop for a moment to chat about nothing in particular. You’re glad you know him and you’re glad to have a friend so close. It’s so easy .
You manage to avoid any serious conversations with Will. You’re afraid he’ll ask about work or at least finding some and you don’t want to deal with anything too unpleasant. Unfortunately, it’s February and the fourteenth has arrived. Andy will be celebrating his birthday without his family and you’ll be a widow on Valentine’s Day.
So many memories of Andy are lingering in the air around you. He should be close to you, asking for presents and picking out a cake. He should be listing all the things that make him happy and you should be sifting through the fantasies, planning something special. You should be laughing with Brian and telling stories. You should be searching for moments to spend alone with him and opportunities to show him how much he still means to you.
You should all be together.
Will offers to come over and spend some time with you on the evening of the fourteenth. He knows how difficult that day will be, of course he knows, he’s a shrink , and he lies. He tells you he hates Valentine’s Day and he’d rather work.
A knock on the door signals Will’s arrival and you greet him as he shuffles into your home.
“Do you know what Andy’s doing for his birthday?” you ask.
“I don’t know any real details of his life, but I’m sure his guardians will make today special.”
“He always loved big parties. Andy didn’t even care if he knew everyone who came he just liked to know people were enjoying themselves because of him.”
“That’s lovely. He’s a special boy.”
“Do you know if he has many friends where he is now? Is he still home-schooled?” You stare into Will’s eyes as you wait for an answer.
“He was home-schooled but he attends a school for the blind now and he must have a bunch of new friends, he isn’t any different there.”
You smile with pride and reply, “Being different wouldn’t matter, he’s a great kid. Why the change? Is everything all right? ”
“Of course. As I understand it, he just wanted to be around kids his own age.”
“That’s good, I suppose.” You take a deep breath and decide to change the subject. “Now, just because you’re stuck with me doesn’t mean you have to have a depressing evening.”
You open the fridge and begin to rummage through it. You find the bottle of wine you bought especially for this evening and wave it in Will’s face.
“Even Jesus couldn’t whip up a batch better than this.”
“Fantastic. What’s for dinner?”
“Lamb shanks with cheesy mashed potato.”
“Sounds better than whatever I would have had on a date tonight-” Will’s thought is interrupted by a loud tapping on the door.
“Heeeel-ooooo,” Somebody sings outside. You open the door and Leo is on the doorstep swaying back and forth a little, holding an open bottle of Sailor Jerry’s rum.
“You shouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s day so I thought I’d come over and we could get really, really drunk,” he announces as he dances around a little on the doorstep.
“Good idea,” You begin, “But I’m not alone, my therapist is here.”
“Therapist? Now? On Valentine’s day?”
“Yeah it’s my son’s birthday and Will thought I might be depressed, seeing as I can’t contact him yet.”
Before Leo can reply, Will pokes his head out and introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Annette’s friend Will”.
“Friend?” Leo asks.
“Therapist.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know if you wanted to announce you’re in therapy,” Will adds.
“All righty, well I’ll get out of your way then,” Leo says as he turns.
“Hang on; stay for a drink,” you and Will both call out.
“Nah, I was going to call in sick to work to make sure you were OK, now I don’t have to. Have a good one. ”
You close the door and move back through the apartment and check the meat in the oven. It’s just you and Will again.
“Are you married?” you ask him.
“No, I don’t think marriage is for me.”
“That’s what I used to say. I think that’s what everyone says at some point. Then you fall for someone and all of a sudden your thoughts don’t matter. The little promises you make with yourself when you’re young to always live free and easy are broken. You just want to be with that person all the time.”
Will says nothing.
You try to think of a way to describe love, the way it urges you to ignore every other thought or event or issue in your life. “At first you want to be careful. You try not to put too much into what could be a doomed relationship. It could all be a waste of time. Then it hits you. You’ll never want to be without that person and you trust they feel the same. You wrap your life around them to keep them warm. You give them everything and ask for nothing. You promise to keep them happy and safe.”
You pause.
“I guess some promises have to be broken.”
When you think of Brian now, you think of the end. His death is in every memory.
