You left a void in my heart

an cave of loneliness inside me,

with every breathe I take,

I am reminded of the constant ache

the ache of pain, longing, love.

To love someone,

to be unloved

to give your all to someone,

exhausting.

struggle

to

breathe.

but I carry on

I always do

to love someone

who doesn’t love you

there is no love

that rings more true.

I hope one day you will realise too

the pain it causes to be in love with you

In Geraldine's very ordinary and uneventful life, villains were evil characters in movies or criminals in lurid news stories. They were not dumpy middle-aged women. That was until her husband decided that the grass was greener elsewhere and abruptly departed after thirty-odd years of marriage. After she recovered from the initial shock, Geraldine was quite relieved he was gone. However, paying the rent with only her income was quite a struggle. It seemed like a godsend when she was told of an elderly couple who were looking for a live-in help with cooking, cleaning and some personal care. Their daughter, who lived quite far away, interviewed her by phone and it was agreed that she would have a month's trial. Hoping for the best, Geraldine stored her belongings and headed off to the job.

Nellie, a tiny woman with snow white hair, almost cried with relief when Geraldine arrived. "Mary had to leave very sudden, and we'd got so used to her that it's been hard to do without her. Not me so much. I'm pretty spry as you can see, but Buddy's slowing down. He's too big for me to help much if he gets unsteady because we'd both go down," she said, barely pausing for breath and talking over her shoulder as she led Geraldine down the hall. She reminded Geraldine of a little bird with her jerky movements and constant chatter. Buddy, on the other hand, was slumped in a recliner, snoring and drooling slightly. Nellie tenderly wiped his chin. "He's not long had his lunch," she said. "He'll perk up in a little while." He was indeed a large man and Geraldine hoped he could move under his own steam. She followed Nellie through the house to a back bedroom.

"This was Mary's room," said Nellie. "I've put clean sheets on the bed for you, but I'm sorry that I haven't had a chance to move her things. I've been meaning to pack them up, but it's been so difficult." She was close to tears. "Don't worry," said Geraldine. "I'll just clear one drawer for now and help with the rest later." Nellie beamed with relief.

Buddy did perk up and was able to get up and around with his walker, albeit slowly. Geraldine settled into a routine of cooking and housework. After a couple of days, Nellie asked her to refill their pill planners for the next week. "We're not quite out yet, but my hands are too shaky and it's hard to read the labels,"she explained. Geraldine obliged. She collected all the medicine bottles and began to to fill the little compartments. Nellie's was straightforward. She was puzzled by Buddy's as there was an extra pill in the morning compartment with no corresponding bottle. Nellie was not sure what to make of it. "Oh dear, I don't know. Mary organized all that for us," she said. "There should be one for his high blood pressure, one for his heart, one for cholesterol, one for gout. I don't know what else. Mary took him to his last doctor's appointment. It's so hard to get him in and out of the car."

Geraldine pondered. She finally took the extra pills from the planner, put them into a little bag and took them to the pharmacy. The pharmacist told her there were no refills to be picked up and no new prescriptions. Geraldine gave him the extra pills and he agreed to to try to identify them. Buddy and Nellie were napping when she returned to the house. Geraldine began packing Mary's belongings into a large cardboard box. The last dresser drawer was so full that it was wedged shut. She put her foot against the dresser and yanked hard. She fell backwards as the drawer finally shot out and the dresser rocked. Relieved that it hadn't fallen on top of her, she packed the clothes into the box and taped it shut. Replacing the drawer, she noticed the corner of a manila folder sticking out between the dresser and the wall which much have been dislodged when the dresser moved. She prised it out and opened it. There were handwritten pages which seemed to be in some sort of code or shorthand and a sheet of paper with Buddy's signature scrawled multiple times on it. Something about it bothered her. She finally slipped it between the mattress and box spring of the bed.

That evening she asked Nellie for Mary's address so she could mail the box. "Well, dear, come to think of it, I don't think she gave it to me," Nellie said, frowning. "She left very quickly. She said she had to go because of a family emergency. I know it's selfish but Buddy's been so groggy lately that I was more worried about how I was going to manage than anything else. But now you're here and Buddy's looking better!" She beamed at Geraldine. "Let me try calling her." Nellie and Buddy were not of the cell phone era. Nellie hurried off to use the phone in the kitchen and returned looking puzzled. "It says the number is not in service," she said. "I'll try again later."

"How long was Mary with you, and where did you meet her?" asked Geraldine.

Nellie thought for a moment. "She was here for about six months. We met her through my friend Doris at church."

"Perhaps your friend has her address. Would you like me to ask her?" said Geraldine.

"Would you, dear?" Nellie said. "That would be so nice of you."

Next day, Geraldine called Doris to ask for Mary's address. "I don't have it and I don't know where she came from," Doris said. "She started coming to church and one day at coffee hour, Nellie was talking about how hard it was getting to be for her and Buddy to manage. Mary sort of spoke up and said she could help. Maybe Nellie got the impression I knew her, but that's not so. Next thing I heard, Mary had moved in with them." Geraldine related this to Nellie who was surprised. "Really, dear?" she said. "I could have sworn Doris introduced her. But I was so stressed then and maybe I'm remembering it all wrong." At that moment the phone rang in the kitchen. Nellie went off to answer it and returned a moment later looking worried. "I must go and see Mr. Bond at the bank. He's saying he needs to talk to me about something important."

"Would you like me to drive you?" asked Geraldine. Nellie's driving was erratic at the best of times and now she was obviously upset. "No, dear. Please keep an eye on Buddy. I'm so glad he's up and moving now, but I'm afraid he'll overdo it." She picked up her handbag and headed out. Buddy was happily ensconced in the recliner watching television. Geraldine was making him lunch when the phone rang,

It was the pharmacist. He explained that the pills Geraldine had brought in were lorazepam, a medication for anxiety. "Now Buddy never had a prescription for lorazepam from his doctor at this pharmacy," he said. "Perhaps he had it filled somewhere else, but I would check with his doctor."

"Could that medicine make someone sleepy or confused?" she said.

"It certainly could," said the pharmacist. "Especially someone elderly."

"Thank you," said Geraldine as she hung up. She cleared up the lunch dishes and checked on Buddy who was now snoozing contentedly. She headed outside to put the trash in the bin. Preoccupied, she did not notice an elderly lady get out of a car parked by the back gate. She jumped when she suddenly heard someone address her.

"Hello," said the newcomer. "I am Nellie's friend Doris. I am sorry if I startled you. I have been so worried since we talked about Mary that I just had to come over. Is Nellie here?" Geraldine explained that Nellie had gone to the bank. "I'll wait for her," said Doris and hurried past Geraldine into the house. To Geraldine's relief, Buddy woke up and greeted Doris with pleasure. She didn't want to think she had let a stranger into the house. "Buddy, I'm glad to see you looking so much better, but you get your forty winks now," Doris said, patting his hand. "Maybe Geraldine would be kind enough to make a cup of coffee and she and I can wait for Nellie in the kitchen."

"Sounds good to me," he said and settled back comfortably.

Geraldine made the coffee and sat down at the kitchen table across from Doris who looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you know that for a moment outside, I thought you were Mary," she said. "You're about the same size and height."

"I suppose I look like most ordinary, middle-aged women," Geraldine said with a smile.

"There's never been anything outstanding about me."

"You could have said that about Mary too,"Doris said. "You met her and an hour later it would have been hard to describe her. She was slippery somehow. I told you how she talked herself into coming here and had Nellie convinced that I knew her well. I'm still not sure how she did it." She stirred her coffee and took a sip. "Now I'm not saying that Nellie didn't need help, but she's always worried about everything. Mary played right into that. Nellie gradually got more and more dependent on her, and Buddy was more and more out of it. He used to be a little forgetful, but he got to where he didn't know whether he was coming or going. Today's the brightest I've seen him for months." She looked directly at Geraldine.

"I said you looked like Mary," she said. "Now I see you up close, that's not true. You have brown eyes. She had blue eyes, ice-blue eyes. You didn't really notice because she hardly ever made eye contact, but she didn't miss a thing. She was always hovering around Nellie, taking up all her time and attention. I came over one day. We were chatting the way we used to when I happened to look up and find Mary staring at me." She shuddered at the recollection. "I'd never liked her, but that look gave me the creeps. It was like a snake sizing something up. But that was hardly enough to convince Nellie that something wasn't right. I mentioned it to Nellie's daughter, but Nellie just got mad when she found out that I'd talked to her. That's why I haven't seen much of her recently." She set her coffee cup down. "I'll just go to powder my nose. I do remember where to go!" she said with a little smile. Geraldine sat still, but her mind what whirling. She was tempted to tell Doris about the odd situation with the medicine, but before she could decide, the door opened and Nellie entered, looking distraught.

"Oh, Geraldine," she said, and burst into tears. Geraldine got her into a chair and brought a box of tissues. Eventually Nellie calmed down enough to explain that the banker wanted to talk to her about several large withdrawals that Buddy had made over the past few months. "I didn't even know he'd been to the bank," Nellie said. "We haven't had any big expenses that I know of. I don't know why he'd take that money and not tell me. What did he do with it?" Doris returned at that moment. Nellie was surprised to see her but did not object. Geraldine suspected that Nellie would not have questioned the appearance of Queen Elizabeth at that point. Nellie launched into the whole story again. "Why don't we start by asking Buddy?" said Doris. "He seems very alert today."

Buddy was bewildered. "I don't remember doing that," he said. "Mind you, my memory hasn't been that good lately."

"Well, Nellie, if you didn't go to the bank with Buddy, it must have been Mary," said Doris. "Oh, Doris, I know you didn't like her, but I can't believe she'd do anything like that," wailed Nellie. She gasped and clutched her chest. Buddy began to get agitated. Geraldine suddenly couldn't stand any more drama. She startled herself by politely asking Doris to leave and led Nellie by the hand to her armchair. Offended, Doris grabbed her handbag and headed for the door. "I'll be back tomorrow and we'll get to the bottom of this," she said over her shoulder as she departed.

It took Geraldine the best part of the evening to calm both of the old people down and settle them for the night. She made herself a cup of tea and headed to her room to relax. She turned the bedroom light on and stood for a moment, puzzled. Something seemed out of place, but she couldn't pinpoint what. The box of clothes might have been moved but she couldn't swear to it. She went to the window to close the curtains. For a moment she thought she saw something outside in the shrubs but decided it must be her imagination. She sighed. Maybe she was getting to be as confused as Buddy. She got into bed and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

She was shaken awake by Nellie. "I'm sorry, dear, but I had to get up and I heard something outside in the back yard," Nellie said. Geraldine blinked for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She got up and threw on her robe. She headed for the back door with Nellie anxiously trotting behind her. "Here," Nellie whispered, passing her a large flashlight. Geraldine wondered briefly if her job description included security work. She told Nellie to wait in the kitchen, cautiously opened the back door and peered out into the darkness. She heard scuffling in the bushes. Just as she decided it must be an animal, two struggling figures appeared in the beam of the flashlight and she heard a high-pitched cry for help. She yelled at Nellie to call the police and hurried outside. One figure was now on the ground. The other looked up, startled, as Geraldine hurtled forward. They collided heavily and fell together. The flashlight fell and went out. By luck rather than skill, Geraldine found herself sitting on top of the squirming intruder. She blinked as the beam of the flashlight dazzled her. Nellie stood there, trembling, but resolutely holding the flashlight. "The police are coming," she said breathlessly. "Who is that?" Geraldine looked down. In the wavering beam of the flashlight, she saw Doris glaring in fury. "See who that other person is," she said to Nellie. Nellie bent over the motionless figure and gasped. "It's Mary! Thank goodness she's still breathing." At that moment, they heard the whoop of sirens and found themselves in a flashing red glare; a blur of voices, ambulances, police cars, curious neighbors.

Next morning, Geraldine, Nellie and Buddy found themselves sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee with a detective. "Is Mary going to be alright?" Nellie asked anxiously. "Her real name's not Mary, but yes, she'll be fine," he said. "It seems she and her friend Doris had a nice little scheme going here."

"I told you Doris knew her!" said Nellie.

"Yes, indeed," said the detective. "She also knew you needed help at home and that you and your husband have quite a bit of money in the bank. Once Miss so-called Mary was inside, they could work together. Mary was slipping Mr. Buddy that sedative, so he didn't remember much of anything, much less going to the bank. It was going fine until the last trip to the bank when the staff asked far more questions than usual. Mary panicked and took off. She must have left something incriminating behind though, because she came back here to look for it. Doris was trying to get her away before they got caught."

"Wait, I think I know what it was," said Geraldine. She hurried off to the bedroom and retrieved the folder from under the mattress. She gave it to the detective. "I bet Doris was looking for it yesterday when she said she had to go to the bathroom. I thought some things had been moved in my room." He opened it. "Well, look at this." He held up the sheet with Buddy's signatures. "Looks like she's been practicing. We'll figure out what the rest of this is, but it'll probably turn out to be financial information."

Buddy shook his head. "Well, it's good to know I haven't lost my marbles after all."

"I feel so stupid," said Nellie. "How could I have fallen for it?"

"Don't blame yourself," said the detective. "We're pretty sure they've been at this for a while using different names in different places. They knew how to pick out trusting folks like yourself who were going through a difficult time. They just didn't expect to run into ladies who were prepared to kick, ahem, behinds."

He grinned and Nellie giggled. She raised her coffee cup to Geraldine. "Good work, partner," she said. "Here's to us," said Geraldine with a smile.

She was running away from home. So much had happened. Her family moved every couple of years and they were finally in a place she thought she could call home. After so many moves, so many states, so many schools, she let her guard down and she wasn’t shy anymore. She decided to make friends on purpose and she developed true friendships. Then, one day her family said they were going on vacation for her dad’s work trip, to a place in Alabama, a quaint little town. She and her sister were excited. It was a fancy hotel. While the dad was in meetings, she, her sister and sometimes their mother would go swimming and eat meals that were designed for the rich. They rode bikes and went golfing. They explored the town with its year round Christmas lights and quaint charm. Out on the pier, they watched the sun set and looked at the stars. On the last morning, after yet another decadent breakfast, her dad asked her if she liked the town. She said yes. He said would you ever want to move here? She got suspicious, “Why are you asking?” He said because we’re moving here. Her eyes filled with tears and her face grew hot with the betrayal she felt when she discovered that their most recent move he said was the last one was a lie. She cried in the hotel room for the rest of the day. She knew what going home meant. It meant saying goodbye to all of her friends. The ones she had finally made in earnest; on purpose. They got back home and she began to tell her friends that at the months end, when school was out, her family was moving. She cried. Her friends cried. She grew more depressed and despondent with her family. Eventually, she decided she would make the choice to run away.

She went to a friends house and her friend had her cousins over a couple of days after she got there. There were two of them. A male and a female. The male was a few years older than she. Her friends room was spacious and where they spent most of their time. The curtains were red and overlooked the water, a gorgeous sight which years later would be destroyed by Hurricane Michael. They played games and told stories, her friends mom frequently bringing them snacks and checking in. They hung out all night, watching movies and eating popcorn. All four of them were getting along well and creating inside jokes with quick wit and easy laughter. She didn’t show any favoritism to any individual person, she wasn’t flirting, she was being herself. She should have slept in the bed with her friend and the female cousin. Instead, inexplicable to her now, she chose to sleep on the floor alone, in between the two beds in the room. She had nothing but a blanket and a pillow but felt safe and comfortable all the same. She fell asleep and woke when she felt someone next to her. He curled himself around her and she was startled, and scooted away from him. He got close again. She grew frightened and was continuing to feign sleep as she moved away again. He moved closer. He began to touch her and she froze in fear and confusion. Does she ‘wake up’? Does she hit him? Does she try and get away, and if she does will he hurt her? Will he wake everyone up, will they blame him or will they blame her for putting herself in that position?

The night felt long as he treated her as a possession, not worrying if she was awake, not worrying if she was even conscious it seemed. His hand was rough and frenzied. The minutes crept on.

They all wake up and he is back in his bed as if nothing happened. Her friend and the female cousin even made a comment that they were hoping that the girl could stay awhile, and maybe even form a relationship with the male, because wouldn’t it be so fun to be family? She wondered in a panic if they had seen what happened, and if so, how could they be so nonchalant?

She hasn’t slept but she is ready to go home. Her friend said ‘I thought you were running away? It’s only been a few days?’ but she said that her time of hiding was over. It was an abrupt end and her friend had a look of confusion on her face. ‘Also, it’s so early, don’t you at least want to have breakfast with us?’ She said no, and left as quickly as she could.

She doesn’t remember how she got home, but when she did she was afraid and she was sick and she was scared. He was lean and tall, reddish brown hair and a lot of freckles. He would become a blurred fixture in her mind. She barely knew him but he changed the trajectory of her life. He took a sense of safety she hadn’t fully understood she was taking for granted.

She called her dad at work. Was she going to tell him about it? Now she can’t even remember because she was thrown off by the woman who answered the phone.

“Hello, is my dad there?”

“What do you mean, love? He quit a month ago, said he already moved into his new office in Alabama. You didn’t know? Has he not been home?”

She didn’t have a clue. She knew she hadn’t seen him in a while, but she had also been actively avoiding her family, and sometimes he worked late.

It was a gut punch. He couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t even tell her he had left. He was her protector and he wasn’t even there.

She never told her dad what happened. Years later came the Me Too movement and she posted it on a status. Her mother thought it was in reference to another instance the girl had in graduate school. That could be a Me Too as well, but that wasn’t the one the girl was referencing.

Who exactly is the villain? Is it the boy that abused her when she was innocent? Was it the dad who wasn’t there when he should have been? Is it her for staying silent?

Who can tell a true villain?

Can you?

Once upon a time there was a young girl who lived in a mountain village in a faraway country. She had been born with a twisted leg and could only walk with great difficulty. Her family were very poor and barely survived on what they could grow on their little piece of land.

Amost everyone had forgotten her real name. Her nickname translated to Gimpy. She was much younger than her siblings. Her mother had not been happy to have another baby, much less a crippled girl and barely tolerated her. Girls were never as valuable as boys and were to be married off as soon as possible, but who would want this useless girl? Her father cherished her but was often too weary from his unending toil to pay much attention to her. He forbade his wife to physically abuse Gimpy in any way, but he could not stop her scolding tongue. Gimpy would limp away from the house into the nearby woods and fields to escape her mother's nagging. She sat so still for hours in a nearby clearing that birds and small animals lost their fear and went about their day as if she wasn't there. Her favorite was a fox who would look at her intently with his amber eyes before continuing on his travels.

One evening her father brought home a sturdy branch. He spent many hours whittling it until he had created a beautifully carved walking stick for Gimpy. She treasured that stick, both because it was from her father and allowed her to walk further. After a while, Gimpy begged him to teach her how to whittle. She began with simple wooden shapes which vaguely resembled the animals and birds she saw every day. As her skill improved, the carvings became more and more lifelike and detailed. She carved beautiful little rabbits, birds, cats, mice, frogs and her favorite, the fox. One day a peddler stopped by the house, selling ribbons, buttons, needles and other small items. Gimpy, sitting on a bench outside the home, happily stopped her carving to greet him and look at his ware. He put his tray down so she could look at the contents. While she was browsing, he looked at the little figures she had carved. They were so well done that he could almost see the cat's fur, the flip and twist of the jumping fish, the feathers of the soaring bird, the fox's bushy tail.

"Little girl," he said. "Will you sell me some of your carvings?"

Gimpy's mother. who had come out to look at the peddler's merchandise, heard him and suddenly had a gleam in her eye.

"We could never part with our dear daughter's work," she said craftily. "As you can see, she has few pleasures and puts all her heart and soul into these little wooden friends of hers."

Gimpy stared in amazement. Her mother never did more than glance at her work and carp about how much time she spent carving. She listened in dismay as her mother and the peddler began to haggle. They finally agreed on a price. Gimpy managed to hide her favorite carving of the fox as her mother went into the hut and returned with the wooden figures. The peddler dropped them into his satchel and paid her mother, who happily jingled the coins in her hand as he gathered his belongings and went on his way.

By the time the peddler returned a month later, Gimpy was exhausted and her fingers were stiff and sore from carving enough figures to satisfy her mother. The peddler looked at the carvings and noted something different, though he could not quite put his finger on it. He still bought and paid for everything she had made. Later, as he trudged along on his route, he realized that although the carving was still skillful, the figures were stiff and wooden in every sense of the word. The liveliness was gone.

Almost unable to bear her unhappiness, Gimpy limped off to her favorite clearing in the woods one summer evening. She sat there quietly. Gradually there was a rustling and fluttering as more and more creatures and birds gathered around her, as if news had spread of her return. Finally the fox appeared from the shadows, looked at her for a long time with his amber eyes, and slowly approached. Gimpy hardly dared to breathe as the fox delicately sniffed her stiff, sore hands. He sat down beside her and did not flinch as she stroked his soft fur. After a while, as darkness descended, the fox gave one sharp bark. The assembled animals and birds dispersed and the fox slipped off into the undergrowth.

Another month went by. The peddler returned to the village and stopped at Gimpy's home. Her mother opened the door, and to his surprise, yelled at him to go away. He continued into the village and the women gathered around to look at his tray. This was a pleasant diversion from their usual day. They plied the peddler with questions about his merchandise, haggled over prices and asked him for news from the regions he passed through. When he could get a word in, he asked about Gimpy. Conversation stopped immediately as the flustered women looked at each other. A young woman finally explained that no one had seen hide nor hair of Gimpy since his last visit. She had simply not been there one morning. The villagers searched everywhere without finding any trace of her. Her parents were distraught, though some said unkindly that her mother missed the income from the carvings more than she missed her daughter.

Not long before Gimpy disappeared, a tall, good looking young man had been seen in the area. Everyone seemed to know someone who knew someone who had seen him talk to Gimpy, but the peddler could find no one who had spoken directly to the stranger. Somehow it was agreed that he had thick auburn hair and sharp amber eyes. There were no sightings of him after Gimpy disappeared. The peddler concluded his sales, hitched his pack on his back and headed out of the village, pondering this strange story. Since the weather was good, he decided to stop for the night in what, unknown to him, had been Gimpy's favorite clearing. He lit a campfire, ate his supper, spread his bedroll and lay down. It was soon dark. There were rustling noises around him as nocturnal creatures began to venture out. He heard the soft beat of an owl's wings. He jumped nervously as he saw movement among the trees.

"Who is there?" he called out.

There was no answer. In the glow from the embers, against the backdrop of the dark woods, he saw two moving figures. The shorter figure limped. The taller figure paused and looked back. He was a handsome young man. His piercing amber eyes gleamed for a moment in the firelight before the figures merged into the darkness and disappeared. Shaken, the peddler lay back and started as he felt something hard on the blanket. It was a beautifully carved little wooden fox. He gazed towards the woods, smiling as he recognized Gimpy's handiwork. He slipped it into his pocket and settled for the night.