Life Will Have Its Way (14 page)

He looked at me intently, thoughtfully, but in the way you look at someone that you feel you may have caught in a lie but aren’t completely sure and can’t decide what to believe. His eyes looked deep into mine, still thinking, still trying to decide what to think. I could tell he wanted to know if he’d made the right decision to warn me.

“But there are not any children missing. How is it possible that we could be hiding children that are not even missing?”

His expression didn’t change, he waited, he wanted me to say more.

“But, you saw for yourself there was no one there.”

“Look,” he said, I know what you’re doing.” He tilted his head sympathetically. “I know you and your neighbor are just trying to help that little girl.”

I could feel my throat tighten, I wanted to swallow, I tried to swallow but there seemed to be a softball sized lump preventing me from doing so.

“But how? How do you know?” I wondered why I was even asking, of course they knew, they knew
everything. “Then why are you…?” I choked up again, I could feel my cheeks flushing and was hoping they weren’t as bright hot as they felt.

His expression suddenly looked so kind, so warm and intelligent. “Why am I what?”

“Why are you helping me? Why are you warning me about Friedrich?”

He shrugged and half smiled. “I just have a feeling you guys aren’t doing anything wrong.”

He seemed so real, so genuine, but the circumstances made it hard for me to believe he was real, hard to believe he could possibly be so genuine. What if he was setting me up? What if this was all part of some weird, twisted game Friedrich was playing. A wave of paranoia washed over me and it felt as though the walls of the tiny space were starting to close in, the curtains were starting to grow thicker, the shelves behind me becoming fuller.

“I just don’t know if I can trust you,” I snapped, immediately wishing I could take it back.  

He looked disappointed,

“I hope you realize how dangerous this is for me to be doing this.”

I felt bad. I did realize. I realized it too late and at the same time I realized I didn’t want our weird, claustrophobic moment in the storage closet to end. He turned away from me, carefully drawing back the edge of the curtain to see what was going on the other side. Once he was sure no one was paying attention, he pushed me out into the store, the curtain swept me across the face as I passed under it. I hadn’t been expecting to be dismissed so abruptly, it felt so impersonal. I felt so foolish, so dejected. I didn’t turn back to see if he was planning to follow. The store was still crowded, although slightly less so, the lucky ones were already well on their way, the ones that lingered still hadn’t come to grips with the fact that they were not favored by the universe. I pushed my way through to the exit.

I hurried back to the office, my chest was tight, my joints stiff, my head swimming, I felt disconnected, both watching and acting in the events that were unfolding around me. Somehow I’d become the unwitting star of a play for which I had never auditioned. The inside of the building was now ice-cold, the windows that had earlier been steamed over were flung open and covered in a thin layer of frost. A strong scent of natural gas clung to the air. I went straight to my boss’s office to ask for a long lunch.

He had started only a few weeks earlier and I was still trying to feel him out. So far he’d presented only positive attributes; he seemed nice enough, he wasn’t at all lecherous and his breath didn’t reek of alcohol by ten in the morning. Although he was a rather plain, simple man someone had reportedly seen him out at a café with an incredibly attractive woman that was believed to have been wife. The office had been abuzz with the news, some finding it completely implausible, others speculating on the various ways it would have been possible for him to marry so far above his station.

He‘d been writing something at his desk when I entered the office, he stopped to look up, his wire-framed glasses hadn’t moved with the rest of his face and when he looked at me over them I suddenly felt the embarrassment of a grade school child asking permission to use the bathroom in the middle of instruction. His hand held tight to the pen, not moving from the spot where it had come to rest when he was interrupted. I asked if I could take a bit more time over lunch. His eyes blinked indifferently and I knew I would have to make my case more compelling. I explained that I needed to take care of an issue at the housing office, certain that he knew I was lying.

“As long as you get your work done before you go home, I don’t really care
what
you do,” a tight, wily smile crossed his face and his eyes became lively. There was definitely something more to this man than met the eye and for just an instant I thought I saw what the attractive woman from the café might have seen in him.    

I bolted from the office, and practically ran the entire distance to the subway station. The sidewalks were jammed with people, bumbling along slowly, too slowly. Can’t you see I’m in a hurry here? I pushed my way between pairs and worked myself out onto the street when I could, slipping between cars and trying to avoid the long lines that strung out of the shops. The midday traffic at the station was almost unbearable. I forced my way onto the train just as the doors were closing. My slight presence seemed to upset the natural order of the carriage and I found myself surrounded by a ring of angry, glaring eyes that had suddenly come to life. The group of passengers who stood nearest pushed toward me, forcing me into the lowest level of the cramped stairwell in an obvious attempt to make their ride more comfortable, and mine decidedly less.

These people, these subway people, these selfish, heartless people that peered out of cold, empty eyes could not be found anywhere else in the city. Not on the streets, not in the market, nor in the workplace. Yet they were, they were the same people, the very same people that walked the streets, frequented the shops and shared conversations near the water cooler. Mass transit brought out the very worst in people. A short trip on the train became survival of the fittest, the pushiest, the most aggressive.  

Outside the station, the same slow moving mass that I had dealt with earlier continued to block my way. I took several deep, cleansing breaths and tried to be patient. I darted side to side trying to position myself in the path that would give me the least amount of resistance, but nevertheless found myself feeling again and again that same feeling you have when you realize you’ve chosen the wrong line at the grocery store. When I finally rounded the corner to my building, I could see from across the street that a pair of Friedrich’s guys were already in the garden. One standing, the other sitting casually in the very spot I’d discovered Evie just a few days earlier. I looked down the street ahead of me, there were at least two more milling in front of the newspaper stand that stood opposite our building. They didn’t act like they were watching our apartments, or watching anything for that matter. I was hoping it was just a coincidence that they were there, even though I knew for a fact it wasn’t.

I looked to the side of our building. The sun shined hard on the windows and shimmery, triangular rainbows reflected off the tiny prism Anja had hanging from one of the frames. I thought I could see movement behind the thin, linen curtains that hung over the kitchen sink. Okay, okay, don’t panic, that’s just Anja, of course Anja is there, why wouldn’t she be there, everything is fine. The curtain moved slightly, someone was trying to peek through it without being seen. I was hoping she was alone, I was hoping Thomas and the children were long gone. But I could tell by the height of the shadow that whoever was trying to see out was much taller than Anja. Why hadn’t they left earlier? They should have at least gone to the cellar before it got so late in the morning. I had always so admired Anja’s defiant attitude, but today, I felt like it might have finally caught up to her. What was I supposed to do now? I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t just leave. Could I? No. I didn’t know. I tried to calm my mind. Okay, okay. Anja will be fine, I thought, if Thomas and the kids are still there, she can just have them go back into the hiding space again. Everything is fine.

I stopped in front of the shop that ran kitty corner to our building. Why were the police just standing around? If they really thought something was going on inside, why hadn’t they gone in? Or maybe they had. Maybe it was one of
their
shadow’s I’d seen through the curtain. No, no, no, no, no! I squeezed my hands together quickly, pumping them, trying to calm myself, to regulate my heart beat or something, something, I had to do something besides just stand there.

The was a disturbance in the flow of the traffic on the sidewalk, someone was pushing their way through the crowd, a large bulky figure broke free from the pack and walked briskly toward me. I recognized the man in the Trooper hat and twice layered scarves almost immediately. It was Peter. I felt suddenly relieved, Anja had said that he would know what to do if the girl’s grandmother never returned. Maybe he would know what to do now. I raised my hand to get his attention. He looked right past me and kept walking. Pausing at the curb he checked traffic then trotted across the street to the garden where he kept moving to the back, to the arbor where the police were sitting. What was he doing here? What was he doing talking to the police? I felt sick to my stomach.

I wished I could warn Anja about Peter, to tell her I had been right to have doubted him. Could I just go to her apartment? Would she answer? Was she even still there? I crossed the street and walked up to our steps, I still wasn’t sure what to do, I wasn’t sure if I should do anything, maybe whatever I did would just make things worse. If Peter really was working with the police, Anja didn’t have a chance.

The two agents standing by the newsstand looked bored but anxious. They were waiting for something to happen, they wanted something to happen. One of them looked up from his paper just as I neared the bottom of the stairs. I stopped, suddenly uncertain about which way to go. My mind was blank. I stood frozen, one hand on the railing, unable to move, not quite sure what I was going to do next or why I was even there in the first place. I couldn’t keep myself from looking at him. Our eyes locked, he snapped the paper together, folded it sloppily and put it back on the rack. He exchanged a few words with his partner who held a menacing stare while he dropped his cigarette to the sidewalk and lowered his foot on top of the still smoldering ashes. He pressed down, grinding the bottom of his shoe into the concrete, turning again and again until there was not a trace of the cigarette left.

They moved slowly across the street, I could hear one of them call out to the others in the garden. I started down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Their footsteps quickened behind me. This was good I thought, completely insane, but good. I was doing just what needed to be done. I had to get them away, far away from the building. All I could think about was taking them away from Anja, away from Thomas, away from the kids. The steps behind me grew closer until they surrounded me. I instantly recognized the sharp clicking noise that could only have been made by Friedrich’s tap soled shoes.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“What are you talking about?” I snapped.

“Nice try,” he scoffed, “but we’ve been getting reports like crazy about your building today, so I thought we’d better head on over here and check ‘em out.” 

I stopped. I could feel my pulse race, I turned to him, only a matter of inches separated us, the steam created by my breath bounced off his face as I spoke. “Why are you still harassing me, Friedrich? I narrowed my eyes and looked defiantly into his.

His jaw tightened, he seemed surprised that I had dared to confront him.

“I said I was sorry about what happened in school. What more do you want from me? Tell me!” I screamed into his face. “Tell me what you want from me!”

He looked to the ground, and drew his lips into a tight, pathetic frown. He knew he’d been caught. As nice as it was to see him looking so humble, I knew it wouldn’t last, I knew what was surely coming next.

He stopped sulking and grabbed me roughly by the arm. The people passing were starting to take notice, some were walking faster, hoping not to get drawn into something, others slowed and one man, tall and heavy set, wearing a bright red, puffed jacket stopped and forced his way nearly between us. “Is everything alright here miss?”

Friedrich loosened his grip. He waved his hand toward the man, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Be on your way, sir”

The man looked at me, he looked into my eyes, he wanted me to give him a signal and I could tell he was ready to take action if I would just let him know things weren’t okay. I wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s bravery. He had to have known Friedrich was with the police.

“Sir!” Friedrich snarled.

The man ignored him. A few others had stopped and were now circling us. I shook my head and tried to smile, I was hoping they would just walk away. I wasn’t necessarily worried about what Friedrich might do to me, but I didn’t want anyone else to be drug into his whirling cesspool of insanity. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said quietly. I looked to the man in the jacket, and nodded, “Really, it’s okay.”

The small crowd started to disperse and the man in red took a few slow steps back, he raised a stern finger toward Friedrich as he continued to walk backwards down the sidewalk. I could tell Friedrich was infuriated by his lack of control over the situation. I started to walk away again. He followed,
uncomfortably close, muttering something over my shoulder in a low growl. He was acting just like a spoiled child who wasn’t getting their way. No, no, actually he was behaving like a persistent, somewhat crazy ex-boyfriend who’d just been given the break up speech.
“It’s not me Friedrich! It’s you! It’s definitely you!”

A few of his cohorts from across the street rushed over to join him, they tried to calm him. They could tell it was turning into a scene and they didn’t want a scene. They tried to hold him back, he flung angrily against them, I sped up hoping their intervention would give me an opportunity to get lost in the crowd. I walked another block before his voice got closer again. “Stop now!” he screamed, “I am ordering you to stop.
I swear to God I will make you stop!"

Other voices were added to the collage crying for me to stop, calling for him to stop. They grew louder, but I knew I couldn’t listen to them and I knew Friedrich couldn’t listen to them either. The crush of the crowd, the excitement, the adrenaline, it was making me feel hot and lightheaded. My jacket seemed suddenly suffocating, I yanked at the sleeves fighting to be free of it, it slipped from my hands and fell to the ground. There was stumbling behind me followed by a long, angry string of four letter words. I couldn’t stop to see what was happening, my legs moved instinctively away from the noise, mechanically, propelling me forward. The people that lined the sidewalk stood frozen against the edges and melted together into a long, colorful mass as I travelled quickly past them.

“I told you to stop!” Friedrich raged. “Why are you making me do this?” A sharp crack cut through the air behind me followed in quick succession by another, and then another. All of the noise on the street was suddenly gone and I was surrounded by a thin, transparent fog, everything beyond it was suspended. A chilling scream moved through the air over my head. I looked up just in time to catch the mottled, bronze tail feathers of Evie’s bird, soaring, majestically, high above my head. Blocking the sun from my eyes I watched her circle then pass, she disappeared from my view then turned back toward me and drew nearer, I drew nearer to her. I felt myself rising from the ground and turned to look down, down below, far below, at the sad grey of the city.

“Petra.” I whispered under my breath, I was wrapped in a brilliant white light, she was just in front of me, pulling me along, taking me with her. I had never felt so weightless, I had never been so free. A figure appeared far beyond the bird, a woman, a woman in a purple dress, a woman I had never seen. Her hands were clasped loosely at her waist, her expression was calm and peaceful. We came closer to her or her to us, her smile grew wider, she undid her hands and raised one gently in the air. “Go back. Go back.” I could clearly hear her voice, yet her lips remained still.

“No. No. I don’t want to go back.” I pleaded with her. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with the woman in the purple dress. I wanted to continue to feel the warmth that radiated from her. I wanted to go with her wherever she would take me.