Suspicion[
solo. with John Jr and Mr. Rae]
--
Mr. Rae had lived most of his life, except for a brief stint at the brink of baseball stardom,
without. He did the best that he could for his children and, still, he knew that it wasn't enough. Repercussions of decisions he'd made in the past lingered like a cloud above all their heads. Vanessa and John Jr didn't complain very much about what he could not give them, but Mr. Rae was still plagued by feelings of guilt.
As a family, they had each other and a home and food, but not much more than that.
This meant that he was the sort of man to notice when his s**t went missing.
First, it was his grandfather's old helmet from WWII. Mr. Rae didn't know how long it'd been absent from his collection of keepsakes, as he didn't look in there very often. He'd first noticed just a week before Vanessa's birthday, when he'd collected their family portrait from the old cardboard box they kept in the hallway closet. This had been the helmet's home for several decades, as Mr. Rae had kept this particular box as a child, and he was a little upset to realize that it had gone awol.
But he hadn't suspected anything then.
He'd thought that maybe he'd misplaced it somewhere, or maybe it was
there and he just wasn't seeing it. That happened sometimes.
And then it'd come time to prepare for another job interview. Mr. Rae opened John Jr's closet, rifled around for his favourite suit, and came up empty handed.
He frowned, and the lines that marred his face made him look significantly older than he actually was. As far as he knew,
he was the only one in their little family with any reason to wear a suit. The first whispers of suspicion coiled like a viper in the pit of his gut.
"John Jr?"
"Yes, dad?" John Jr, who was nestled in a large pile of blankets and pillows on his bed, didn't look up from the novel he was reading.
"Have you seen my good suit?"
There was a pause. John Jr was thinking very hard. Finally, he asked; "The one that's not missing any buttons?"
"That's the one."
"Nope." John Jr supplied with a shrug. This was most of the truth. He had not seen the suit since Vanessa had taken it from the closet the other day. He knew
where it was- knew generally where it had disappeared to, but John Jr sensed the importance of keeping this particular secret from their father. He had no desire to get Vanessa into trouble.
Mr. Rae had raised his children honestly. It was not normal for them to lie at all, or to really keep him in the dark about anything, and so he was inclined to believe his son.
Still.The question was on the tip of his tongue. Mr. Rae debated for a moment about asking it and then, scratching his head and considering the contents of the closet he shared with his son, finally gave in to the urge. "Does
Vanessa know where it is?"
John Jr, whose nervous heart was fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, did his best to remain nonchalant. He licked his lips and flipped the page of his book. Without looking up at his father, the little boy said; "I dunno. Maybe you should ask her?"
"I think I'll have to."
--
She was in her room, not working on homework. Several textbooks lay open on her little bed, but were otherwise deserted. Vanessa, who sat on her lonely pillow, was twisted into a slightly awkward position and busily painting her toenails an unflattering shade of neon blue. The stench of the nail-polish permeated the bedroom, and Vanessa's tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated.
Theirs was not a household where anybody remembered to knock.
Mr. Rae twisted the door handle and let himself in. Vanessa, who was supposed to be cracking down and getting caught up in history, blinked up at her father as though he'd caught her with a hand in the cookie jar before supper. She smiled sheepishly, golden eyes shining with a misbegotten innocence, and tried to hide her toes in her hands. Nail polish dripped off of the brush and onto the bed.
The girl swore under breath, golden eyes zoning on the spot that marred her simple white sheets, and stuck the cap on the bottle. It was balanced precariously on the edge of the bed, and swayed threateningly as Vanessa shifted her weight around on the mattress, but it did not fall.
"That's going to leave a stain," she hissed, and vigorously attempted to rub out the blotch of blue paint with her fingers. Mr. Rae watched her with an impatient look on his face.
"
Vanessa Alicia, how many
times do I have to tell you to open the window when you use that stuff? It smells
poisonous in here."
Vanessa tried to ignore the way he'd used her middle name, and shrugged, glad that he hadn't yelled at her for neglecting her homework. "I forgot."
"You always forget," Mr. Rae sounded frustrated. He stormed across the room and released the catch on the window to let some fresh air in. Vanessa swore she saw a couple of his hairs turn grey. She bit her lip.
"I don't understand what the big deal is," Vanessa informed him as casually as she could, "I'll just remember next time."
"That's what you always say." Mr. Rae straightened up to his full height and crossed his muscular arms over his chest. If he'd been any other man, Vanessa would have been slightly nervous. Since it was her father, she was intimidated.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Vanessa, who licked her lips in the exact same way John Jr had earlier, spoke up. She knew her father well. There was something on his mind.
"Are you mad?"
"Mad?" Mr. Rae said, "No, I'm not
mad."
This confused Vanessa very much. She blinked at him. And then; "Are you
sure?"
Mr. Rae pointedly ignored this question, in favour of more lucrative conversation. He'd never been very good at talking about his feelings. This was something Vanessa had inherited from him.
"Have you seen my good suit?"
"Uh-
"Its not in the closet, and John Jr says
he hasn't seen it."
Vanessa's brain-hamster had officially gone on strike. She was stalling for time, and viciously dusting off the cobwebs that clung to her mind.
Think, Vanessa,
think. Lie, Vanessa,
lie."Nope, haven't seen it anywhere."
The instant the words left her mouth Vanessa felt sick. It was not in her nature to be deceptive. Still, despite herself, the auburn-haired girl managed to force a smile up at her father. Mr. Rae saw right through it, but didn't say anything. He only leered down at his daughter; chocolate eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a firm, and irate, line. While John Sr was generally a quiet man, his temper was very much like his daughter's; blinding, explosive, unpredictable.
Vanessa held her breath.
Mr. Rae swore under his breath, spun on his heal and left with a great slam of the door. The walls shook with the force, and Vanessa exhaled deeply.
He was on to her. It made her a little nauseas.
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