I looked at her one last time, “I’ll be back. I’ll tell them it wasn’t your fault,” I whispered and ran towards the lights I prayed were from a neighboring home.
Chapter Two
Clovis, New Mexico - January 2010
“The window’s been replaced. Glare shouldn’t get in the way of your peeping now.” he chuckles, but I can’t laugh. I stand at the window of the building I bought and look in her window. It is a perfect viewpoint. I can see into her window perfectly but the glass on this building has a tint. She will never see me. Between the cameras we have set up and the view from the window, I will be able to watch her at all times.
I look up at him and nod, “Thanks.” He gives me a grin but all I have is a scowl, “I don’t want you here for this.”
He crosses his arms, “Ha! Fat chance you’re gonna get me to leave you here like this. Not after the way I found you in the office last fall. I know what this girl does to you. I know what she means. I know what this all does to you.” He points a finger at me, knowing I hate it when people do that, “We’re a team.”
I nod once. I’m not in the mood to argue with him. My palms are sweating from the knowledge I’ll be able to see her…tonight, all night. I've seen glimpses and watched her randomly but this will be us all night. She will be there in the morning and I will still be free of my sister’s death.
“Eli, man, you gotta relax a bit. That look on your face is going to scare the ever-loving shit out of her when you do meet her. You get it every time you see her.”
I take a breath, like Jane—Dr. Bradley said to when I’m feeling tense, like I might hurt myself or someone else. The breath isn’t helping but the view through the window does.
I gulp when I see her hair. It’s the same. The light hits it and I couldn’t tell you my name if I had to. It's so blonde and shiny now though. The color is the same but it's clean. She is clean. She is real. She isn’t an elephant in the room. She isn’t a coping mechanism or any other ism… I'm crazy but I didn’t make her up. She may be a teenager but I can see the face of the child she was. I wonder if I look the same?
She moves quickly; I see what she’s doing. It hurts to watch her be like this. Something is wrong, she cleans when she's scared. I remember the conditions of the house she lived in. She cleans because of that house. I know it.
“Fuck, she cleans fast, huh?”
I ignore him. He understands a lot of things, but this kind of frenzy isn’t one of them. Not this kind. His is different, probably worse.
She is meticulous with her cleaning, it's forensic. She doesn’t allow any part of her body to come in contact with anything as she cleans; her hands do all the work. She doesn’t lean or touch her silky hair. She does one thing, cleaning every surface.
She straightens things in the room that could be a cell. She’s thin, thinner than she should be. My jaw clenches. I want her now. I want her safe now. I want to take her away from it all. I want to save her, the way I promised I would.
My hands try to shake, but I refuse to allow weakness in. Not here. There is one place for weakness, this isn’t it.
She is the opposite of the last time I saw her, and yet, she is the same. She is neat and straight and clean, but I can see the dirt and the stains. I know they’re there to her. She sees them still. She won't ever be free of them…not on her own. I have convinced Jane to save her, to free her.
“Did you tell them what we were doing?”
I glance at Stuart and shake my head, “The orphanage knows she’s a Jane Doe. They know her name isn’t Emalyn Spicer, obviously. They gave me the hair from her brush and a blood sample. They know she was one of the kids at the Spicer home and that she somehow made her way here. They believe me to be her benefactor. An idea Jane came up with. I am her benefactor and eventually when she is well enough, I will be able to have contact with her through a cell phone. It will be the first link to a family member she will have."
Stuart gives me a funny look, “You will be her family member?"
I laugh, "No, but she might feel like I am."
He nods, "You tell them about Emalyn?”
I nod once. I don’t want to talk about it. He knows that...
“Wanna train while we watch?”
I nod and pull my coat off. I know she’s going to be a distraction for me. She always has been. At least she’s no longer a void that makes me empty, and in need of things I don’t want. She is no longer an obsession.
I'm glad I came dressed for training. I grab my sparring gloves and we start to hit each other, softly at first for warm up.
Stuart laughs, “You know the craziest part of this shit?”
I shake my head and let him hit my hands.
He nods towards the window but doesn’t stop staring at me, “She’s probably the one who is the most sane of us all. Right now, she seems a little touched but she’s gonna be fine. Those orphans are hard man, they get beat for shit you and I don’t even know we do. I knew a couple orphans and they were balls to the walls crazy.”
I shake my head, “She’s delicate. She isn’t like them.” I look at her pacing around her room, “She isn’t like us either. If one of them lays a hand on her…”
“Easy tiger.”
I take a light hit to the jaw and turn to face him. I feel it make sparks inside of me.
He gives me a shitty grin and I try to give him a shot to the face. He ducks and jabs me in the ribs.I feel it lighting up inside of me. He points at me, seeing the look in my eyes, “Friendly. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
I shake my head, “You do every time you speak. Wanna, gonna, hafta, and the crowning jewel in that family—sup. By far my favorite. I imagined it was more of a cockney phrase, like we would sup with another family. Of course, time spent with you has cured me of that foolish notion. I actually Google the urban dictionary weekly to understand you.”
Stuart shakes his head, “One day that carrot you got shoved in yo’ ass is GONNA get pulled out and you’ll HAFTA loosen up a bit, bro.”
I growl, taking shots on him. I punch at least ten rabbit punches, each one landing with a feathery grace but not inflicting pain. He doesn’t have time to stop a single one.
He laughs and backs off, “How come you don’t wanna go pro? You’d be the man.”
I roll my eyes, “Yes, being the man has always been an enticing motivator.” I look back at the small room with the small blonde, and smile. It’s the first time I’ve felt whatever the hell I’m feeling. She’s safe and I can see her. I don’t need to hurt when she’s there. I feel like finding her is the path to saving her.
It’s like they’re both alive when I see her.
We fight for a while longer, but I see the glimpse of exhaustion on his face, “Go home and get some rest.”
He shakes his head, “You want something to eat?”
I nod, “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
He grins and leaves the apartment. It’s not really an apartment; it will be. We're staying at an inn that makes me want to clean the way she does. We are renovating the apartment into something we can live in while she finishes high school. We have two years of this ahead of us. Two years of watching her until she finishes school. Unless of course, Jane can cure her before then. Even if she did, I don’t think I could leave her. I left once and I didn’t find her again for a decade.
Stuart comes back with the food, and I can't trace the time he’s been gone. She makes everything faster, even with her limited movements and lack of activity.
“Has she been reading this whole time?”
I nod.
He shoves me lightly, “You’ve been watching her this whole time and she hasn’t moved?”
I give him a look when I take my bag of junk food and my chocolate shake from him. I suck from the straw, watching her, and decide I could live this happy for the rest of my life.
“You’re getting creepy about this, man. You remember she's a sixteen-year-old girl, right?”
I feel the spark. It burns when I think about hurting him. I swallow it and sigh, “It's not like that, Stu. I’ll never be able to explain to you how I failed her. You can't understand unless you let someone down, the way I have.” It is the wrong thing to say to the wrong person.
He opens his burger and starts to eat, “Whatever, eat up.”
I eat but the food tastes bad. She has suffered for a decade in that place. She has wasted away like Rapunzel in her tower and I have failed her.
I finish and look at my watch, “I’m meeting with the head nun.”
“Mother Superior.”
I give him a grin, “Right. Stay here.”
He shakes his head, “I won't leave.”
Fear ripples through me, “You can't take your eyes off of her. You understand that?”
He looks intimidated for a second and I hate myself for my tone. He nods, “Dude, I got this shit. She isn’t exactly doing tricks over there and you’ll be in the damned building with her.”
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave the window. My hands start to sweat.
He grabs my arm, “Go. I won't take my eyes off that girl. If I see anything, I will text you immediately.”
I take a breath and turn away. I need to see the nun more than I need to watch her.
I race down the stairs and across the warm desert street. Even in the dead of winter, Clovis is a warm place. Nice in the winter but the summer must be murder.
I can’t get my breath when I walk through the front door. I’m greeted by her, the steely-eyed nun I already had a chat with.
“Mr. Adams, how nice to see you again.”
I know it isn’t. I give her my business face, “Good evening, Mother.”
Her eyes twinkle when I say it, and I wonder if it’s the wrong thing to say. I know nothing about Catholicism and when I asked at the office before we left, they told me the nun in charge was Mother. I never went to church. My parents were alcoholics and closet atheists. Most parents who live through what they have, end up that way. I know I never believed in God until a few months ago. Now I wonder actively, if God intervened? How else could her paper have landed on my desk? How else could I have dropped blood upon her name?