Fall (28 page)

Totally!

So what does he do! Fat Noel!

I don’t know she shouts! Dental hygiene!

Funny!

He owns something she shouts! Controls something!

Maybe!

Totally!

So what’s he doing in a nightclub!

He’s looking for his daughter she shouts!

Not a girlfriend!

No!

And who’s his daughter!

She’s smiling.

I am!

Ha!

Weird!

Spooky!

Bizarre!

Totally!

I’m fucked!

Me too!

I’m going to the bathroom!

We kiss.

Wash your tooth she shouts!

Aah fresh air. Mmmjulius I love this air. Julius Julius Julius she says.

Fresh air’s good I say.

Sgood. The fire escape’s good she says.

Yeah.

Alone she says. Parvaneh. She looked at a plane with red flashing lights and she said Is that a shooting star. Sha.

Pff I say.

Hmm. I’m having such a good night she says.

Me too. I’m drunk. I’m thinking this: Wewz.

I love watching your hand when you smoke she says. Beautiful stories in your fingers.

Syrup on a pancake. My Fall.

So many things I wanna do with you she says.

There’s an inch of water on your eyes I say.

I’m thinking she says. I just like watching you sometimes. There’s so much . . .

Let me hold her let me hold her let me hold her.

That’s nice she says. It’s cold out here.

We should dance.

I wanna stay.

K.

It’s nice.

She’s probably thinking I’m strong. She’s probably liking my muscles.

I hope you never feel like there’s no one looking after you she says.

Whaddaya mean.

I don’t know. You’re young. We’re young. I want you to know. Look at me. I want you to know you’re loved. That I love you.

Don’t cry.

It’s not. I’m not sad. It’s . . . I don’t know what’s gonna happen. What you’ll want. I love it so much when you tell me stories when you were a little boy. I can see you so clearly. You’re just a little boy.

I’m a big strong man.

You’re just a little boy she says. With beautiful fingers. And everything’s going to be fun.

Fuckin A.

I want to see you as a man. Some wrinkles here and here.

Hm.

I am a man I say.

I’m buying a beer I don’t need.

The lights are full of water.

Everyone’s pretty.

We’re friends.

Except that guy.

And that guy.

Where’s Fall.

That’s not our table.

Where’s Fall.

The fat guy has his mouth on her ear.

What the fuck.

Who was that guy!

I don’t know!

What was he doing!

I don’t know!

What’d he say!

Nothing! He’s gross! Give me a sip!

She’s drinking.

She’s chugging.

Let’s dance she shouts!

What’s going on!

Let’s dance!

Ok!

She’s leading me.

I’m looking around for that guy.

I think I’m mad.

I think I’m gonna make myself mad.

We’re dancing.

Fall’s dancing.

I’ve stopped.

She’s doing the hips and the hair and the hands above the head thing.

She’s drunk.

I’m fucked.

She’s jumping.

I’m trying to jump.

I can’t remember why I’m mad oh yeah.

She’s jumping.

I want my beer.

She fell.

They’re jumping around my girlfriend.

She’s laughing.

She’s limping.

I’m dancing.

She’s smiling.

No she’s not.

She’s sitting on the floor.

She’s gonna get crushed.

What’s wrong!

I can’t stand up!

Here!

Ow! My ankle!

Do you wanna barf!

It’s my ankle!

Put your arm around me!

I want these fuckin jumping people out of the way.

Watch it!

Fuck off! She’s hurt!

You fuck off!

There’s a seat over there!

My purse!

Can you make it back to the table! I can see your purse!

Stop for a second!

Which ankle is it!

The one I’m holding up!

Right! Come on and sit down!

Is that creep gone!

I guess so! There’s your purse!

Ow!

There! You ok!

Yeah! I don’t know! I really can’t stand on it!

Give it a minute!

I’m thinking I should have some water or something. Or she should.

Want some water!

No! Thanks! Yes! Don’t go! Maybe a waitress!

Just give it a minute! Let me see it!

Boot.

I feel like a dad.

I’m fucked.

I forget what I’m doing.

Sock.

Is this serious.

It looks ok I shout!

Does it!

I can’t really tell! Let me see the other one!

That’s ok! Let’s just wait!

Is it throbbing!

Yeah!

Keep it on my lap!

Her heel’s on my thigh.

The butterfly’s dancing with a bald guy in black.

J
ANUARY
,
THE TWO-FACED
month.

“Why don’t you call us more this term?” asked my mother. “Or write. You know I love your letters.”

It will always be the month of questions, often ones I’m afraid to answer. What happened and what will come.

Do you miss her?

And the feeling in the lungs of Canada’s midwinter. Shallow intake of the coldest conviction. Every January my lids lie lower while I try not to believe that my heart still beats in this bleakness.

There were signs that Julius had moved back into the room. I saw other people, but I felt like I could pass right through them.

Do you miss her?

And I truly wanted to find Julius. My confidant. My friend. I was realizing that something had been lost. How can you sleep so close to someone and be so far away?

You say you were friends. Do you miss her?

On the first day of school a new voice entered my life in the shape of Sergeant Richard D’Arcy of the RCMP.

I was called to the office of the Admissions Counsellor, the teacher whose days were devoted to helping us seniors find places in universities. For a while his office became a place where Sergeant D’Arcy asked questions of various people.

The RCMP were investigating because of the involvement of a foreign diplomat’s son, whom they were theoretically meant to protect. He was part of the Protective Policing unit, so I thought
at first that he wasn’t formally investigating things; he was simply helping.

I was assured by the Admissions Counsellor that these were interviews conducted with scores of students, that I wasn’t being singled out, and that there was no need to feel uncomfortable. He kept a tape recorder on the desk. He otherwise sat mutely in the corner while the interview progressed.

Where did you get the tan?

Sydney.

I’ll bet that was a nice escape.

It was.

Furthest I’ve been is Sydney Nova Scotia. Is it your parents?

Yes.

Lucky you. But you must miss them when you’re here.

Not really.

So you like it here?

More or less.

Is that why you came back?

I have a term to finish.

I was just wondering. Some of the students I’ve interviewed thought about not coming back. They’re upset. Scared that a student could go missing.

I wouldn’t say I’m not upset. But I am in the middle of my final year.

And you like it here.

I like it well enough.

Do you like your fellow students?

Yes.

All of them?

I don’t mind.

You don’t mind? I know what you mean. I can’t say I like all of my colleagues, but I don’t mind them. I keep to myself. Is that what you do, would you say? Keep to yourself?

I suppose. I have friends.

I’m sure you do. Was Fallon DeStindt your friend?

Was?

Is. What I mean is, before she went missing, was she your friend?

Yes.

Were you close friends?

I think so.

You hung out.

We went shopping together. Went to cafés. She’s my roommate’s girlfriend.

Of course. So you know a lot about her.

I suppose.

Where do you think she might be? I’m trying to get as many opinions on this as I can. I’m getting a surprising range.

I don’t know.

You haven’t thought about it?

I often think about it.

Do you? Could you tell me your thoughts?

Well. She probably ran away, didn’t she? That’s what makes sense to me.

Does it?

Yes. Compared to the alternatives. It makes more sense to me that she would run away than, let’s say, being taken or whatever.

Taken?

Isn’t that what some people think? She was taken from her room.

Do they?

There would have been noises or screams. Some sort of a struggle. How would someone get into her room to take her? How could her roommate not notice? It doesn’t make sense to me.

She may not have been taken from her room. She may have been walking outside. Does that make sense to you?

I suppose. It just seems unlikely. School grounds. Who would come onto school grounds and abduct her? I’ve read about a phenomenon called the Availability Heuristic. It is in our nature, let’s say, when we are alone in a park at night to imagine being attacked. Our minds instinctively try to discover the worst possible thing that can happen, but the likelihood of anything happening is extremely low.

The Availa
—?

Availability Heuristic. From the Greek, to discover or find.

I’m struck by the intelligence of you guys. I’ve gotta say. The minds. The vocabulary. So you think it makes sense that Fallon ran away?

Yes.

Any idea what she would run away from? Anything your roommate told you, for example?

I don’t know. Not really.

Would you protect your roommate from anything?

I don’t know. I wouldn’t lie.

Did he ever tell you that Fall was unhappy?

No. Maybe. He said she could get sad sometimes. He said her mother . . . I think she may have felt claustrophobic.

Is that what he said?

Maybe.

And what do you think he meant?

I don’t know. Too much pressure, maybe. She is very popular. Very . . . She’s attractive and people like her. I could imagine that she could sometimes feel too much, let’s say, love, or something of the sort. Perhaps she felt that she received too much attention.

Do you feel claustrophobic?

Here?

Anywhere.

It is hard not to feel it here sometimes. It’s a small world. That’s what I’m trying to say. And if you can’t feel comfortable at home and Julius is . . . If you feel like there’s nowhere to escape to. It’s easy to feel like there’s nowhere to go.

So she ran away?

I suppose so. It doesn’t seem so incredible to me.

You seem to be very reasonable. Did she ever tell you that she was thinking of running away?

No. Not really. She told me about family life a little. She never said, “I’m going to run away.” I don’t think one would do that. Running away is running away. You run.

People usually leave clues. People plan. In my experience, there are usually signs.

I think she was sad.

Was she sad the last time you talked to her?

I think there was always some sort of sadness in her.

When was the last time you saw her?

I think it was that night. The night before she went.

Really?

December nine. She wasn’t in school on the tenth. I remember.

You have a good memory. I hope you don’t mind if I ask you more questions later. Do you?

Not at all.

Thank you.

It was interesting.

It was interesting. I remember feeling slightly excited that I had spent so much time talking to a genuine officer of the RCMP. I remember doing some research, and learning, for example, that they originally wore buff trousers, but through sharing clothes with American counterparts they began to wear blue ones.

Julius appeared noticeably older and less healthy. The sun and exercise had done me good, and when I caught glimpses of both of us in the mirror I found the contrast quite striking.

He didn’t have much to say to me. Short responses about his holiday revealed that he had “done some investigating,” which I understood to mean he had helped with the investigation.

Gradually he spoke more, occasionally after Lights Out. He said the Duty Mistress of the Girls’ Flats had attracted some criticism for her lack of vigilance. People had been able to come and go through her front door, as I had experienced, with ease. Julius wanted her fired.

He wanted many people fired, in fact. His father and his lawyers were turning the tables somewhat, focusing on the poor security of the school, suggesting proper inquiries into how students came and went and how they ought to be monitored. I found this a bit rich, that calls to monitor the students should originate from Julius.

Generally speaking, he seemed rather angry.

No one wanted to believe that Fall ran away. I began to realize the role of a pretty girl in our society. No one attracts our solicitation as much as a pretty girl. She is a vessel of our hopes, we suggest her future, instinctively give her guidance, love to watch her, expect to watch her move through extraordinary spaces. And if something goes wrong, we instinctively imagine her as the victim, a passive player in a beautiful tragedy, a flower which was never meant to survive in our bitter soil. But what we hate to acknowledge is her volition. That a pretty girl should have agency or choice. It’s repugnant to think she could choose to do wrong.