What Lies Within, Page 2

  Benjamin sneaked closer to the edge, to the part where Daddy told him not to go.

  “Too close to the water. You could fall in.”

  Not gonna fall in. Gonna be careful.

  Something funny looking bumped up against the edge of the concrete, stuck in the sloshing waves. He wanted to see what it was. They were right on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, so he always hoped to find something cool. A shark tooth. A cool shell. Anything.

  Well, good enough, he thought. It did look like some kind of bone. It was big! A good find. He’d pull it out of the water and show it to Daddy. Daddy could identify pretty much anything.

  His sneakers squeaked rhythmically, and he wormed his way back up to Mommy and Daddy.

  “Whatcha got there, baby?” Ben was pleased Mommy asked him that. He’d explain how brave he had been. But Daddy was making a horrified face.

  Somehow, Ben got a funny feeling it wasn’t a bone from the sea. Judging by the look on his father’s face, he realized he really shouldn’t have gone to the edge.

  * * * *

  From San Francisco Daily

  Human Femur Found in Water Near Sutro Baths

  By: Randy Carver

  San Francisco

  Tourists were stunned after an eight-year-old found a human bone on the shores of the Pacific. The boy, who shall remain anonymous, found the bone while visiting the Sutro Baths with his mother and father.

  The San Francisco Police Department was called to recover the bone. Detective Robert Black confirmed that he and partner, Ellen Wong, were involved in the recovery. Black said the bone was given to the Anthropology Department at the University of California-San Francisco for additional study. “We expect results back soon,” Detective Black said, who also noted that the bone “looked like it had a good number of years on it.”

  At this time, police have been instructed to search for any remaining bones in the area, according to Detective Black. Black did not comment on whether or not foul play was involved. “It could have come from anywhere,” he explained.

  After examination at UCSF, the remains will be sent to forensic experts at the police station. They will subsequently be sealed and sent to a forensic lab for detailed investigations.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ti: Chasing the Sun West

  Ti had her face pressed into Danielle’s soft, cottony blond hair. She inhaled. It smelled like coconuts and sweet, tangy sweat. Ti peeked out the window again, just to confirm that yes, it was still storming. The rain offered some relief from the hot, Louisiana humidity, but not much. Mostly, it made her room feel like a balmy greenhouse.

  Ti was always conscious of this great divide in class every time Danielle came over. Danielle lived in Uptown, on the other side of Audubon Park, in a huge home brimming with upper-class things and upper-class people: a doctor father, a professor mother, some expensive purebred dog called something Ti could never remember how to pronounce. Ti and her stepfather, John, lived on Tchoupitoulas in a run-down, aging shotgun house that was in serious need of some tender loving care. The shutters hung on by some miracle and John had haphazardly left an array of items on the front porch: a bookshelf to paint later, some flower pots to tidy up the jungle of a garden, tools and paintbrushes. It looked like the house was being worked on, but it never was. The whole house seemed to sag and frown and creak in agony whenever she moved through it.

  Danny had been very quiet that day. She had escaped her large family’s Sunday gathering and followed the muddy riverbanks to Ti’s stepfather’s house. Her soaked clothing formed a damp imprint on Ti’s sheets.

  “What’s the matter with you today?” Ti asked, still nuzzling Danny’s hair. Danny sighed and frowned. Danny’s uncomfortable silence screamed something was wrong. Ti ignored it, spellbound by the goddess spread out on her bed.

  Danny opened her mouth to talk, but all that emerged was a low squeak. She swallowed hard.

  “I’m so sorry, Ti,” she managed.

  “What the fuck? Sorry for what?”

  “I saw Marcus over the weekend.” Danny didn’t have to say anything else. Ever since Danny decided she was a lesbian, her ex-boyfriend, Marcus, had been creeping around in the background of her and Danny’s relationship, threatening to steal her away. Ti always supposed Marcus felt emasculated in some kind of weird way, and winning Danny back would somehow magically make his dick bigger.

  For a moment, Ti could say nothing. Danny shifted to meet Ti’s eyes, and then flinched, as if expecting Ti to unleash some awful verbal tirade.

  “Get out of here.”

  “Ti? Wait…”

  But the look on Ti’s face must have summed it all up. Danny slowly peeled herself off of the bed and crept out of the bedroom. The ancient hardwood floor barely creaked in response.

  Ti buried her face into the still damp pillow Danny had her head on. Her scent lingered there, sultry and potent.

  “Fuck!” Ti screamed into the pillow.

  She buttoned up her shirt to go outside. Walks, even in the torrential rain, were always a good way to clear the head.

  That evening, Ti sat with John in the kitchen, her clothes still soaked from her walk in the rain. They drank coffee in the dim room, the rain tinkering lightly against the window panes. Ti always found this ritual comforting: she'd watch John scoop the black grounds from the bright yellow Café du Monde tin, carefully place them in the filter so as not to spill them, then add another scoop to make it stronger. Always the extra scoop. Sometimes, they would have deep conversations, dark as the night they seeped into, and sometimes, they sat and said nothing, just enjoyed the silence.

  That night, John didn’t offer much condolence. At least, she didn’t think so at the time.

  “You need closure. Don’t ever let someone run off on you on bad terms, Celestine. If something happens, you’ll kick yourself in the ass.” John got up to pour another cup of coffee, rich and thick like tar.

  “Trust me, I know.” He frowned as he blew a cooling breeze into the cup before taking a hearty gulp.

  Ti knew too. Momma had loved alcohol like it was a Don Juan kind of secret lover, always visiting it, always hiding it behind everyone’s back. There was no hiding the effect it had on her, though. Sober, she was normal, affectionate, and had her shit together. But her flings with alcohol drove her over the edge, made her into a depressed and angry addict. It was her struggle with alcohol that finally took her away.

  Some blamed John. They fought with great fervor in those last few weeks. Even more people blamed Ti’s real father, who left when Ti she was quite young. Ti only had faded memories of him, memories tainted with his strange behavior and his fights with her mother. Momma said all she needed was a drink to get her back on track. John disagreed. Momma’s final “fuck you” was a self-inflicted gunshot to the head.

  She was sick. She didn’t get the help she needed. She never wanted it. But John still blamed himself, even years later.

  Maybe it was the memory of her mother, or the heartache of what had just happened, but a lump formed in Ti’s throat. It started off as a subtle knot. Then, the lump grew into a great mass. The lump made it hard to swallow or even breathe. The only solution was to sigh. A hot, iron ball of steel formed in her stomach, too.

  This seemed familiar. It happened right before Momma blew her brains out.

  “John,” she said, gripping her stomach. “Something is wrong.” John looked up at her over his coffee and opened his mouth to talk. The phone rang. They both stared at it, but Ti already knew.

  John had hit the nail on the head, so to speak. Ti let Danny go, and off Danny went. She walked back home to borrow her dad’s car. Then, on her way to Marcus’ house, she skidded and slid the classic Lincoln Town Car into a concrete culvert.

  Ti had always thought that car was a beast, but a great, friendly protective one. She couldn’t imagine it being crushed into a mangled, metal jumble with Danny’s blood covering the front seat. She couldn’t count how many times she’d been
in the passenger seat, twisting the tuner knob on the old radio, looking over at the profile of Danny’s face as she drove through the bumpy streets of New Orleans.

  Ti couldn’t digest it. She thought about what Danny had been wearing that day, thought about that sad and thoughtful face twisted into deep rumination. That pillow retained her scent for months to come, and when it finally faded, Ti took its cue and got everything in order to leave town.

  Something pulled her to the west coast. Maybe it was the off-handed comment John had once made—she had asked him where her real father was, and he mentioned he thought he was in the San Francisco area. Not that she ever hoped to run into him—her memories of him were not the fondest, and she attributed her mother’s death to her father’s careless ways. Or maybe she decided on California because it seemed so different to her, as if the ocean and the mountains could carve a new personality out of her, someone happier and bubblier. She could chase the sun right over the west coast horizon—the closest place she knew of where darkness came last.

  John didn’t blame her. In fact, he acted as if he was relieved for her.

  “The west coast is a good place to go to get your head back in order. I’m always here,” he told her as he leaned on her jam-packed car. That was comforting. If she failed in San Francisco, John and New Orleans would always welcome her back.

  “And think about that name and number I gave you,” he said in a fatherly tone. Ti grimaced and clenched the steering wheel. She started the car and gave John a nasty look. He laughed.

  “I’m not about to move to San Francisco just so I can work in a coffee shop again.”

  “Yeah, smartass. This place isn’t as crazy as Café Du Monde, okay? She’s expecting your call, and you’ll appreciate having that contact once you get out there and realize how expensive everything is. You can’t live off your inheritance forever, and you’ll blow through it in a month if you’re not careful. Try USF. Take some photography classes. And call that girl at that coffee shop. She’s from New Orleans, too. Don’t just mope around out there, you hear me?”

  She nodded. Acceptance. That was what she’d always felt with John. He never made a single comment about her sexual orientation and always pushed her further towards photography, encouraged her to join local clubs, photograph weddings, babies, graduates, anything to gain experience. He was more like an involved uncle or an older, bossy roommate than a stepfather, but since she didn’t have any other family, she appreciated him more and more every day.

  She smiled at him as she put her hand on the door handle to close it. He caught it.

  “And remember. You can never really run away from your problems. They always come back to get you,” he said. He walked towards the house and didn’t look back.

  * * * *

  Ti hop-skipped on the slippery concrete, agile enough to avoid a fall. She knew the Sutro Baths like the back of her hand now, especially after they found that femur out here six months ago. It was already an interesting place because of the history, but now a strange aura hung around it. She peered down at the wells and watched as a foamy wave tickled the electric green algae that hung to the concrete in desperation. The powerful ocean sucked the wave back in, and the algae swayed in the other direction. Ti, always amused by this, snapped a close-up photo of the dancing algae.

  Up the stairs, there was movement. Ti thought it might have been the blue-black whip of hair that caught her attention, but it also might have been the air of mysteriousness around the woman. As if on psychic cue, the woman looked back. Even at this distance, the girl could see the cold, grey fierceness in the woman's eyes. She stood watching her. The woman stared back for what seemed like an hour before breaking eye contact and walking away, pretending to look at the Golden Gate off in the distance.

  Ti looked down, slightly embarrassed. She didn't mean to stare.

  Wind whipped through Ti's short hair, freezing yet refreshing. She really had no idea why she stared so hard. Then again, the woman had been unusually beautiful, she thought with a slight twinge of desire between her legs. She shook her head and then, almost as an afterthought, snapped a quick photograph of the mysterious woman. She packed up her camera as fast as she could, turned on her heel and headed for home.

  She didn't exactly take the short way back. It was cold and rainier now, and as far as she could tell, she was only person out. That is, besides the woman. She wondered again if she was a tourist or a local. She thought it strange to see another female out on such a frigid day, alone. Maybe she did have an unseen companion off to the side. Or maybe she was just out for a moment. Either way, it was none of her business. She tried to forget about the woman, but those feral eyes haunted her for the rest of the day.

  It was slow that evening at work. The coffee shop had a glowing, sleepy ambiance. Ti yawned and struggled against her drooping eyelids. She picked up a pencil and began doodling on slips of The Daily Grind’s receipt paper.

  Tamara, always the dramatic one, burst out of the back, looking relieved.

  “I am so glad to be finished with that inventory!” She blew out a breath and glanced at the receipt paper. “What have you been up to, Ms. Celestine? I see it’s been pretty exciting out here this evening.”

  “Nothing,” Ti muttered, bored.

  “You do really good eyes,” Tamara said as she began washing coffee cups. Ti didn't really realize it while she was doing it, but she had drawn the mysterious woman's eyes, perfect from memory, the little golf pencil doing a faultless job of capturing their intensity.

  “Thanks. But don’t call me Celestine anymore, Tommy!” Tamara rolled her eyes and flicked water at her, and Ti laughed. Thank God Tamara had a sense of humor.

  “You should have stayed at USF, dear. Now you’re working here full time, wasting your creative talents away. And what are you going to do with your life now?” Tamara asked in a news reporter voice as she held up an invisible microphone to Ti’s face.

  “You sound like my stepfather,” Ti answered, waving Tamara’s hand away.

  “So I sound like a man?” Tamara asked in a low, baritone voice. “All that money towards a sex change and all that hormone therapy, and it didn’t work. Shit.”

  They both laughed. Tamara was so passable, Ti was one of the only people in her life who knew the truth about her past identity. They’d grown pretty close since Ti’s move from New Orleans and they had a lot to talk about—escaping the humidity by hopping in The Country Club’s pool, good food they missed, and corrupt politics. It was a relief to Ti. She’d only made one friend at USF in her short time there, a quirky computer science major from Texas known as Maus, but she had lost touch with him.

  “Go home. It’s slow as hell and I see you're keeping yourself busy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Ti took her up on that. She went home and developed her photos, which came out okay...there were blobs of raindrops everywhere, but she was still glad she went. She came out with two pretty decent ones and kicked herself once again for not sticking with classes at USF.

  She walked a few short blocks over to Tamara’s place the next day before work, heading down Haight Street (which was always shrouded in the smell of weed, coffee and food) past an anarchist bookstore and around the corner to Page Street. Ti let herself in to find Tamara struggling to move an old portable heater.

  “Holy shit, that thing is going to short circuit on you. You need a new one. Let me--”

  Tamara looked a little taken aback. “Ha. Nah,” she puffed, waving Ti away. “I barely use it. I like the chill.”

  Ti was still getting used to it. The short walk over left her shaking and feeling like she had been standing in a walk-in freezer. If only I had known it’d be this cold, she thought.

  They sat by Tamara’s bay window overlooking Page Street while Tamara cut her bangs and trimmed her scraggly ends, giving her more of a hipster look. Ti thought it looked okay. She didn't care too much about her hair and clothes as she used to. At any rate, she felt glad for Tamara's co
mpany and the usual chatter about The Daily Grind’s array of bizarre customers.

  Ti looked down at the street, which seemed empty for the longest time until a somewhat familiar figure approached.

  “I saw that woman at the Sutro Baths yesterday,” she said, pointing down to the street.

  Tamara stared for an inordinate amount of time before speaking. “Pretty. She looks like a high-class whore.”

  They both laughed. Ti thought the woman was even more beautiful than the day before. She was walking down the street, her strides quick and confident, and for some reason it made Ti think she might even live close by. Something about the woman’s sleek clothing and slightly haughty appearance made her change her mind. She probably lives in The Presidio—somewhere fancy. Ti had a feeling she'd see her again. She thought it would be one of those things where they'd start seeing each other everywhere...they'd exchange that glance, like, “hey, I know you..." and not really say anything. Ti fantasized that she would start saying hello, and then maybe hang out. The woman seemed much more mature, but she looked young. Ti imagined that she was somewhere in her late twenties, but she carried herself like old, wise royalty.

  Ti watched the woman walk away. Hope to see you again, she thought, and focused her attention back on Tamara, coffee shop gossip, and hair. Ti finally left as the sun descended into the Pacific Ocean and the streetlights came on.

  * * * *

  It had been a while since Ti saw that woman from the Sutro Baths, but once again, she got that strange feeling, looked up, and there she was. Ti had arrived at work early and was waiting for her shift to start. She put down her paperback and quickly checked her watch. It was about three minutes until her shift started, so she hurried behind the register, clocked in, and prepared herself to take the woman's order, smirking all the while. She felt nervous for some reason, yet found it funny. She was usually so comfortable chatting up people, despite her lack of close friends.