Never Knowing

The next morning John called my cell when I was taking Ally to school. This time I tried something different.

“Hi, John, I’m just driving Ally, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“But I want to talk.” He sounded startled.

“Great, because I really want to discuss some of the stuff we talked about the other day.”

“I can’t leave the cell on. But I need—”

“Okay, just give me a call back in a half hour on my home line.” I hung up.

I held my breath, expecting him to call right back, but he didn’t. Billy called to tell me John was near Williams Lake again and they had every available officer out on the roads. Exactly a half hour later John called my landline. While he bragged about tracking a black bear through a marsh that morning, I debated whether I should wait for him to mention another meeting or bring it up myself. As he started describing how he gutted the bear, then dragged the two-hundred-and-fifty-pound carcass out of the bushes without breaking a sweat, I interrupted.

“It’s got to be hard to shoot a bear. I’d be scared I’d miss and he’d come after me.”

“I never miss.” His voice turned angry. “Every year I come across injured bears out in the woods because of some amateur. If I can’t get a solid shot right behind the ear and straight into the brain, I don’t pull the trigger. Most hunters, they get excited, then they jerk up at the last minute and—” “Wow, that’s really interesting. It’s too bad we didn’t get to meet. I would sure like to hear some of these stories in person.”

“Great minds think alike! I was just going to suggest another meeting — you can bring Ally.”

“I don’t know.… Maybe it should just be me the first time. She might say something to Evan. But I can bring pictures of her?”

“Yeah, yeah, bring pictures. That would be great.” I shuddered at the idea of him touching a photo of Ally.

He said, “So when do you want to meet?”

“When were you thinking?” My mouth went dry.

“I need to get away. It’s getting warm out.” His voice was angry again. “People are starting to camp and they throw their trash into the woods and turn their radios up so loud you can’t hear yourself think.”

“Soon, we can meet soon.”

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

That’s why I called for an emergency session. I know you don’t normally do evening appointments, so I really appreciate this. Trust me, I wanted to come earlier, but I’ve been at the station all afternoon. Billy said he’d watch Ally — can you believe he’s taking Ally to Boston Pizza and he wouldn’t accept any money? Evan’s supposed to call later tonight and I don’t know how I’m going to tell him or if I even should. I’m just sick about it. But I’m sure after we catch John, Evan will forgive me. Who was it that said it’s better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission?

You’re the only person I can tell this, but when I was at the station listening to Billy and Sandy — I’m meeting John at Bowen Park this time, so they wanted to go over a new plan — I had a really weird moment. I think what triggered it was something Billy said about John’s headaches, about John using them as an excuse. I caught myself for a second wanting to defend him — to defend myself. My entire life people have looked at me like I was faking it when I had a migraine. But I know how much they hurt, how the pain almost makes you insane.

When I was in school one of my friends fought with her mom constantly and when her mom would say, “You’re just like me when I was your age,” my friend would go on and on about how she was nothing like her mom. I didn’t understand it. For one, they were a lot alike, and two, I thought it was a lot worse not being able to see yourself at all in your parents — like me. Definitely not in Mom, who is the sweetest, most patient woman on the planet, and Dad, well, we’d need another hour to cover all the ways we differ.

That’s one of the reasons I was so disappointed when I met Julia. I still didn’t see myself. It scares me how much I’m like John — his impulsiveness, his short attention span, his temper. Now even with the migraines. But I’m terrified I’m becoming more like him. Every time he says something that reminds me of myself I fantasize about killing him, taking a knife to the meeting and stabbing him over and over again. But the best part is when he’s lying there, bleeding — when I can see he’s finally dead. It feels good.

SESSION EIGHTEEN

I thought about everything you said, and considering what I’m going through I guess I could be doing a lot worse. You get some of the credit. No matter what I tell you, no matter how weird I’m feeling, you make me look at it. And you always help me figure out where it’s coming from. Then I can deal with it, or at least try to make sense of it. Evan accepts all my quirks and craziness — well, that might be up for debate at the moment. But I don’t think he really understands why I do the things I do, or maybe he just doesn’t need to know why.

Me, I’ve always questioned everything—a trait that drove my dad nuts. Okay, most people in my life. But you were the first person who told me it was okay to have questions, who encouraged them. Actually you were the first person who told me I was okay. Even Lauren sometimes tells me to stop being so … so Sara. But not you.

You said my obsessions were passions, that my intensity was a powerful gift, that my determination was admirable. That what I considered my weaknesses could also be my greatest strengths. If John is a mirror that reflects back my worst distortions of myself, then you’re a mirror that reflects the good. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I didn’t have you holding it up.

When I got home from our last session Evan had left a message saying he was exhausted and was turning his cell off and going to bed. I felt bad he didn’t know I was planning to meet John at noon the next day but relieved I didn’t have to tell him. I left a message saying I was sorry I missed his call and wished him a good night. Then I hung up before I blurted out everything.

After Billy brought Ally home he waited while I put her to bed, then we went over the logistics for the meeting again. The police had counterattacks set up on the main highway from Williams Lake to Vancouver and conservation officers stopping people on the back roads, but for all they knew they’d already let John through. We had to continue with our plan.

This time Billy was posing as a park landscaper working near the bench where I’d be sitting. I felt a lot better knowing he’d be close. He’s so big and solid, definitely someone you’d want by your side if you were going into a dark alley — or meeting a serial killer. A couple of times I cracked a joke and he always smiled, but then he’d point back to his sketch of the park. His belief that their plan was going to work shored up my belief that I was doing the right thing. All I had to do was sit on a bench for a little while and this whole nightmare would be over.

After Billy left around ten I collapsed into bed and sank into a dreamless sleep. But the next morning I woke on Evan’s side of the bed and as I cuddled his pillow, breathing in his scent, my confidence began to ebb. What if something happened to me? What if that last conversation I’d had with Evan was our last conversation ever? I had to let him know how much I love him. But when I tried his cell, he didn’t answer. For a moment I was tempted to phone Billy and call the whole thing off. Then I thought about what would happen if I did.

Ally wanted to make me breakfast, pancakes the same way Evan makes them. I let her make a total mess of the kitchen — she looked so cute in her little apron and chef’s hat as she served me — then sat at the table with her instead of rushing around to clean up. As I listened to her morning chatter, smiling at her story about what Moose did to his stuffie, I prayed this wouldn’t be her last memory of me. I tried to remind myself that John had never threatened me, but I couldn’t forget that he was a killer. When we got to Ally’s school I walked her to her classroom, then dropped to my knees in front of her.

“Ally, you know how much Mommy loves you, right?”