Chapter 13 – Why Women Want to Escape Lord Verne
I know I did. Did this mean that I
Could finally consider myself
Grown up? Wouldn’t my teachers
Be surprised. Verne inveighed against Kruptupian
The whole way back
And I didn’t stop him.
I imagined myself floating above him
And looking down on him
Pityingly. Wondered if Mirabel
Ever had done that.
At the Fifth Avenue apartments
Someone claiming to be Derek Lowther
Was pacing back and forth,
Eyed by the suspicious doorman.
He was over six feet tall, very skinny with
Explosively curly brown hair,
Big soulful green eyes and perfect skin.
I almost threw myself into this strange man’s arms
And kissed him.
“You’re not Derek,” I announced, exiting the car,
.“Derek Lowther is a ratty, pimply little brat
Who spits when he talks.”
“And you were a squirt with braces
And a squint,” he sassed back,
All I needed to hear for confirmation.
Nobody knows about the squint.
“It’s called amblyopia
And I’m all cured now,” I told him
As we race-scrolled through family pics –
Growing up for each other’s eyes
Across eight years of ski slopes
School parties, beaches and
Christmas. “Verne, this is Derek Lowther.”
Verne barely deigned to register
The presence of another human being.
“Step into the café,” he ordered.
Perhaps if you’re six feet tall
And possibly still growing
Things are different but hadn’t we
Just breakfasted? No one cared.
Derek: 2 Breakfast burritos and a café Americano,
Verne: espresso and blueberry blintzes,
Richenda: Milky coffee, everything bagel.
Only ordered where I can
Shed bagel dust at will.
As he and Verne gazed at each other
I thought Derek required a call-back.
“Remember Mirabel?”
“I remember the Mirabel Legend,”
Derek offered. Honest guy.
“Kids absorb gossip.”
“What kind of gossip?”
Verne was too sharp, I thought, snapping
At a guest like that.
Soon Derek too would want escape –
Playing into my hands exactly.
I smiled to myself, steepling my fingers
Like a movie mad scientist.
“Text and sub text,” Derek offered.
“Text” was parents explaining Mirabel had run away,
“Sub-text” came through eavesdropping about
Mirabel living wild and free to public acclaim.”
I could work with this guy, I thought,
Satisfied. At least
We spoke the same language –
Very unlike me & Verne.
“We were going to get married,” huffed Verne.
“She gave up her job with her boss –“
“Her nasty boss –“ I added. Helping.
“She called Richenda to help with planning.”
See? THAT wasn’t true.
Since I didn’t challenge Verne went on more
Confidently, “Ghosted us at dinner.
Didn’t come home at all last night.”
Derek looked at me with an
Expression seeming to communicate
“Tell me the REAL story later.”
I liked him more and more.
“Wow,” Derek commented evenly.
“Rough.” Turned to me. “You saw her?”
“I did,” I offered, not willing to say
In front of Verne what exactly I had seen.
“She’s a redhead now.”
Verne was impressed enough
To plunge into a long recital
Of our late night Kruptupian call,
Then insisting Ravi posed as
Mirabel’s groom. I could tell
My silence was registering with Derek.
Since he seemed to know I saw it
Differently, he must know I wanted
Getting out of there.
“Runaway Bride,” said Derek,
“I get that you can’t involve the media.”
“Any ideas?” asked Verne.
“I’ll study traffic cams for Mirabel locations,”
Derek offered, “See where she went.
And with who.”
Verne’s eyes jumped with excitement.
“You can do that?”
“Traffic cameras are easy, private cams
Are more complex.”
“I’ve got the exact times she was in
Brooklyn and at the spa,” I offered.
“I just need my laptop,” said Derek,
Hastily said,
“I need the ladies’ room”
But secretly went upstairs
To get my bag and leave it
In the hall.
Verne did not alert, unaware
Of my escape. Like Mirabel
I was getting the hell out.
When I got back they were discussing
Hiring a P.I., Derek’s dad
Had an art theft guy.
“We think she ditched her phone. “
“But her online account,
See who she called –
It’s golden. Maybe just a password hack,”
Said Derek. “Depends how well you know
The person.” “I can help with that,” I said,
Possibly unwisely – Verne’s face
Froze in jealous competition.
Apparently I belonged to him
Already.
Verne paid the bill,
Discomfited by precipitous
Abandonment.
“I have some friends to call,” he sniffed.
Threat or promise – we encouraged him.
“I’m going to see Derek’s folks” I lied so
Smoothly Derek kept his calm.
“They’ll have all kinds of suggestions.”
Verne was stymied
By our determination.
“I’ll call,” I promised pathetically.
Verne made a note of Derek’s number.
I marched after Derek
Who was walking decisively.
“So where are we going?” I hissed
Conspiratorially.
“Subway. No car service on my allowance.”
Down the steps into the hot and stinky
Underworld. “Fine with me,” I offered.
“I want to be anonymous.”
“I know the feeling,” said Derek.
“What’s with that guy?
You’re escaping a police state.”
We clutched straps and leaned together
Studiously ignoring people who
Were studiously ignoring us.
“So, what’s the deal?”
Hissed Derek. “Do you think he murdered her?”
“Not sure,” I said, “When he wanted me
To comfort him he said
I wasn’t the first fourteen-year old he’d had.”
“Oh, my God,” said Derek. “Disgusting guy.
His world is him and whoever he’s picked
To be his mirror.”
A startling, grisly, accurate thought.
“He left with me,” I mused,
“I’m his alibi but he could always hire someone.”
“But you don’t think she’s dead.”
“I hope she’s not. But if I find her now
I feel sure she’ll finally tell the truth.”
That idea sounded stupid to my ears.
Wouldn’t Mirabel do what she’d
Always done and feed me any story
I wanted to believe?
“I think I can tell the truth from lies,”
I offered, I’d like to
Test it.” To Derek’s credit
He didn’t argue. “My only question is;
What if he killed her, and then
Hired a girl to impersonate Mirabel?”
I had to admit I’d thought of this.
“It doesn’t sound so hard to me,” said Derek.
“After all you haven’t seen her for – what –
Six years?” I shook my head.
“I think it was really her and everything
She said and did was signaling.
I longed to learn her language.
“I think –“ could I confess this deepest secret
To this stranger –
“She’s longing to be found.”
A moment’s silence but Derek didn’t
Counter. “We’ll check her friends,” he said,
“When we open her account.”
Did Mirabel have friends?
Would Verne allow it?
I must have looked like a stopped clock
Because he propelled me out the double doors.
“Is this our stop?” “Change trains.”
Back to waiting on a dangerous platform
In the dark, hovering over an electrified hell.
Had I always been this scared
Of everything?
Alysse Aallyn 
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