5

After Marith had yawned and stretched until she was wide awake she heard her favourite sound. She heard it on the balcony outside her bedroom. She heard it in the bathroom. She heard it in the hallways. She heard it wandering around the mansion. Finally, she heard it in the kitchen.

The sound of silence.

Against all odds Monday morning had arrived. The day she could visit her father and hopefully speak to a doctor. Nick had left early for the factory and had taken Olive with him.

Marith had noticed there was a painful lack of anything that could be considered warm or homely in the mansion. The remnants of dead animals on the walls, the remnants of dead animals on the floors. Empty mantels, empty side tables, except for stacks of paperwork and occasional empty food wrappings.

God knows Nick could afford nice stuff and Marith had to admit that the individual parts were nice. The Chesterfield couches were nice, the Tiffany lamps, the Persian rugs, the imported China in the cabinets, the silver cutlery from the Hague, that was once gifted to the family by her mother. All very nice. They just didn’t add up to an inviting unity. The house wasn’t whole.

Over a bowl of hardly cooked oatmeal, that Marith was munching away, she stared at a Lalique vase with dried flowers and wondered if they were intentionally dried and placed there on purpose or if they were once a fresh bouquet and no one had ever taken the initiative to throw them out and they had eventually become part of the décor.

After tossing away the failed attempt at a healthy breakfast Marith poured some poisonous looking cereal in a bowl and ate them dry, while wandering around the house. There was a certain magic about being all alone in such an imposing building.

With the exception of two large family portraits, painted in oil and hanging in a shady corner, there were no framed pictures in the house. Marith paused in front of the massive works of art. One depicted Nick and his little brother playing on the floor in front of their parents, who were seated in Victorian chairs. The other painting showed the grandparents, the founders of Pine Industries, accompanied by the then teenage brothers. They were the only reminders, except for the company itself, that Nick’s family had actually existed.

Both the Pine brothers were insanely handsome. They looked related, but not alike. Nick’s cheering, wild and rugged personality came forward through this depiction. His brother, however, was more serious and sensitive, by the looks of him. Nate had a peculiar expression on his face, which would probably go unnoticed to most people, except to the people who had come across that look before.

His features were manly, but delicate, almost vulnerable. His eyes made the painting disturbing. They talked to Marith in a way that didn’t touch the conscious parts, the surface of her brain, yet they reached out to her like tentacles. His eyes stroked her soul. Eyes had spoken to her before like that during recent events, but there was not much Marith could do with that observation as Nate had been missing for years now.

Not much later Marith strolled from Nick’s stately home into the crisp forest and then towards the village, wrapped in several layers of isolating garments. She planned on buying her father something nice or edible - which was nice, she guessed - and then disappear into the forest, heading to the clinic.

She decided to stay close to the lake, not to get lost, or to walk into people again. She was not looking forward to discussing the train accident or her father’s ‘situation’ once more with random strangers that seemed to know all about her. Since the clinic was on the other side of the lake it would be quite the hike, which gave her time to put her thoughts in order.

The only store that was accessible without entering the town’s centre was the local florist. Marith had decided to go with a free interpretation of a bouquet for her father and bought one for Nick as well to replace the dried disaster she had come across that morning. They had a closer resemblance to modern art than to flower arrangements, but they had to suffice.

In the distance she could see some workmen putting up a banner, probably for the celestial event party. Marith couldn’t bother to get excited for it. Sweet Lake, such an old and familiar place, had become wildly unfamiliar to her. There were more homeless people than she could remember and more strange behaviour from strange people.

Plunged into her own thoughts she was back on the trail around the lake before she realized she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings. She had wandered towards one of the jetty’s that stretched out over the waterfront.

The questions that had been flying through her mind like unguided projectiles had started to form a hurricane. Why would ‘reflections’ of someone’s mind target her and Jonathan? They had never met before Saturday.

How could Vanessa prevent harm by intercepting bullets soaring through the air? She hadn’t even moved during the attack and yet they had ended up in her pockets. How much did Nick know about all this? Would he have her committed if she would attempt to stir a conversation about the anomalies she had witnessed? He had opened his home to Juliette and had called Vanessa a ‘witch woman’ if she remembered correctly. Although improbable, it all seemed to be connected.

The sight of a gracious, white feathered animal amusing itself by peddling through his own waves in circles nailed her to the wooden boards of the pier. It was the swan from her dream. The swan.

It was starting to happen to her again. Headmaster Pavan had caused it in the train. Her recent dreams seemed to be in touch with reality once more. Given her childhood experiences, this did not bode well for her mental health. On the other hand, how much worse could it get?

The animal increased speed to create higher waves then turned around to enjoy the gulfs. It was a touching and sad play to witness. Why was the bird alone? He kept repeating the circles until he noticed Marith, or rather, someone behind her.

“I feed him… every now and then.”

“What?”

Marith turned around with a jolt and stared into the bright blue eyes of a blond and stocky young man carrying some fishing gear.

“The swan… He seems to be from Sound Lake. Maybe he is lost, but Sound Lake is not that far, so he’s probably an outcast.”

“Oh,” was all Marith could think of saying.

The fisherman put his stuff down and opened a little suitcase containing reels, lures, bait and line. Anxiously the swan peddled closer. He fished out a plastic bag with neatly cut pieces of bread and emptied the contents in the water. The swan wasted no time and ate greedily.

“I didn’t know there were any fish in the lake,” Marith noted surprised.

“There weren’t. Not originally, but several species were introduced. Only Trout and Salmon survived. Fishing is allowed, but only with artificial bait, so no new kinds can be accidentally thrown in.”

Marith nodded and stared across the lake. The shore at the other side was visible, though barely. The sky was grey and misty. Clouds were in a habit of lingering between the mountains, hovering over Sweet Lake.

“It doesn’t glisten.”

“What?”

“It just doesn’t…”

He gave her a puzzled look while setting out his equipment.

“The water,” she clarified. “The sign clearly says: ‘Sweet Lake, where the water forever glistens’.”

Marith hadn’t been close to the lake since she got there. Now she noticed the water had an obscure dimness to it. The once bright and multi-coloured pebbles on the lake’s shoreline look dull, grey and lifeless.

Her father had learned Marith and Lieke how to skate on the frozen channels in the Netherlands during winters and how to swim in the lake during summers. Marith had always guessed she could probably cross the lake swimming and she knew she was not going to find out if that assumption was true. All Dutch children learn how to swim and dive at a young age and also to keep a respectful distance to all large bodies of water. There was a certain dignity in knowing you can do something and not feel the need to prove it, Marith decided.

As a Dutch girl she was taught to have love and hate for water. Right now, she felt suspicion and fear towards this specific bowl of wetness. What had happened here?

“It seems like something in it has been stirred up… I don’t know.” She shrugged, awkwardly holding the flowers.

“This darkness had not always been there.”

“You’ve noticed it too?”

“Of course. The changes around here are hard to ignore.”

They looked out over the rocky shore and the deceitfully calm water.

“Since I have returned my shadow seems to have a shadow.”

The swan was done eating and eyed the bystanders on the pier inquiringly.

“You’re originally from here?” The young man asked.

“Yes, I partially grew up here and partially in the Netherlands.”

“I’m from Sound Lake,” he said, casting his first rod. “I’m Will. You must be Marith.”

At that point Marith’s bewilderment was more shocking than the fact that William had already known who she was.

“Dad, please help me understand. Why do you have to rent out the house at the lake and live in an apartment?” Marith stood next to his bed, gracelessly waving the flowers around as she spoke.

On her hike to the clinic she had come past her childhood home and had seen the ‘for rent’ sign at the driveway. If only she had had some keys on her. Then she remembered Nick had the keys for showings.

“I… eh…” Gene rubbed his forehead, like he was confused, “you know.” He made an explanative hand gesture that didn’t explain anything.

“As a matter of fact I don’t know… I seem to be NOT knowing a lot of things lately.” Marith’s frustration sounded threatening.

“Nick didn’t have as much work for me lately as he used to, I was lonely, I started drinking. I needed the money. You already know this.”

Marith felt the hollow pit of guilt and sorrow in her stomach again, but she tried to repress it. There was something he wasn’t telling her and she needed to know what it was. She was his oldest child and her mother and sister weren’t any use, so she felt it was her responsibility to step up.

“What did you need the money for?”

He shrugged. “The monthly alimony I am paying is pretty steep.”

Marith couldn’t remember if she had ever seen spots of anger dancing before her eyes, but she saw them now.

“I cannot believe you are still paying bloody alimony! You don’t have to be paying alimony at all anymore!” She started to shake with anger at the sight of her sick father. “I have been taking care of myself for quite a while now and mom has a new partner!”

“That’s not how it works, honey,” he tried to soothe her. “As long as they’re not married I have to keep paying partner alimony… and child support until your sister is 21, as well.”

“I know, dad.” That was not a lie. She did know, but she didn’t understand. She was going to make this right.

Marith had had the distinct displeasure of actively experiencing the tail end of her parents’ marriage as a teenager. Her father had become her mother’s doormat. He had earned a truck full of beans and her mother had only delivered a handful. Too much tension. Too much struggle. Too much resentment. Nothing lost in the divorce, except Gene’s money and the children’s innocence.

“We could rent out the apartment in the Netherlands as well. I mean, it is close to Amsterdam.”

“No, you live there. You go to school there. It needs to stay available.”

Marith could only figure out about her future what the circuitry of her brain could handle, which wasn’t much under the widespread mental strains she was experiencing, but she did know she wasn’t going back to university.

“Dad… I quit.”

“What?”

“I haven’t taken any courses for months and I don’t think I’ll be going back in the foreseeable future.” There.

“Why not?”

“I-I…” she started with a stutter. She took a deep breath, before giving him the actual answer. “You know I don’t feel right in this world. I never have.”

Marith prepared for a deluge of disappointment. She had always been the ‘trophy kid’. Her little sister was the beautiful, quick-witted one who would marry into relative wealth one day, just as their mother had done. Marith would end up in a good place as well, but because of her brain and not because of social skills or good looks.

It had started in high school. That honours program had been a great way to make her parents proud and to lose her soul and her will to live at the same time. Traumatized for life by her visions and an overdose of books she couldn’t bring herself to wrap up her academic endeavours with a master’s degree.

Her father nodded sadly. “I can’t say I haven’t seen it coming. You have always been quiet… with a restless mind. I know that.”

He hesitated and stared at his bedsheets for a while. It was the most doubt-filled pause Marith had ever seen him take.

“Does there seem to be a myriad of unexplainable weirdness in your life lately?”

Marith’s eyes widened. “Yes, absolutely. First the accident, then you.” She gestured at the hospital bed. “This town is not what it used to be anymore either.”

Sweet Lake nowadays was not the sweet or quirky community she remembered. Sweet and quirky had turned into sour and threatening. However, she didn’t dare to mention the attack on Jonathan’s store or the ‘meeting’ Vanessa had dragged her into. That felt almost too personal, too mysterious, too inexplicable to share right then.

“I know, Marith. Just let it all happen, is my advice. Don’t resist. It will make things worse.”

“Wait a second, dad…” Marith looked at him with bulging eyes. What did her father know?

That moment, as if her father had planned as such, a nurse appeared in the door opening, fidgeting with her watch in a failed attempt to be subtle.

“Ma’am, dr. Sybling is ready for you and the visiting hour is over. Mr. Merryfield needs rest.”

“You have to tell me more than this. Please!”

“Ma’am, the doctor is very busy,” the nurse urged.

“Go. We’ll talk another time.” Her father took one of the bouquets from her, without asking, and then she was escorted to a waiting room on the other side of the wing.

In contrast to Nick’s old European chique office some modernist had designed the hell out of the psychiatrist’s office. White, black and red were apparently the only colours allowed inside. Marith felt shabby stepping into that cool, empty place.

Dr. Sybling was a tall, skinny woman with a solemn demeanour. The tailored white suit she was wearing was in sharp contrast with her warm skin, but blended her in nicely with the sterile background.

As Marith sat down on the other side of the desk she briefly contemplated what it was about eyes that was so mesmerizing. They could tell so much about the owner and so little about what was going on behind them at the same time.

When it came to dr. Sybling’s eyes they conveyed little or nothing about her. Her skin and facial muscles told Marith much more about the life she had lived, before they crossed paths. Which was weird, because Dr. Sybling looked like she was all ages at once and no specific age at all.

Marith couldn’t help, but speak at the dog that sat right next to the doctor instead, since it was staring at her uninterrupted. It was a Weimaraner, Marith knew. They were used for hunting large game in Germany. An extraordinary breed to see as a guide dog.

“Her name is Iris.”

Iris had piercing yellow eyes with undercurrents. All-knowing, wise, disturbed undercurrents, seeking for consolation and alleviation.

“You can look at her while you speak to me, if that makes you feel more comfortable.”

“Sure,” Marith answered in a high pitched voice, while the bizarreness of Sweet Lake thundered on.

“About your father,” dr. Sybling started.

“Yes, please. What can you tell me about my father’s situation?”

“It seems to me that your father has a serious case of Emptiness.”

“Oh.” Marith thought about this for a minute.

“Because of his depressions? He is feeling empty? Is that what…?”

“No, what I mean is that the Empty has gotten a hold of him.”

“Excuse me? I am afraid I am not following.”

She wondered if her guilt-ridden mind was playing games on her. What was happening? Why couldn’t she just understand what this woman was saying?

Dr. Sybling stared at the place her body should be, while she spoke. The dog made an uncomfortable movement, but kept her eyes locked on Marith.

“The Kid, miss Merryfield, I am sure you have heard of him.”

“No,” miss Merryfield answered flatly. She was losing her patience. What on Earth was all this about?

“Oh, dear. I was under the impression Vanessa took you out.”

“She did, but I honestly don’t see any relation with my father’s situation.” She realized abashed that she had assumed too eagerly that Vanessa’s motives for taking her out had been purely altruistic.

“This has every relation with your father’s situation.”

She had given them two days. One day for diagnosis, another to initiate psychotherapy. They would work with her father during the weekend. And this is what they had come up with? Emptiness?

“Look, I went out with Vanessa, but none of this came up,” Marith retorted curtly. “We went into town and then I was hurried to a store that was apparently about to be robbed.”

The doctor nodded calm and understanding.

“An experience I could have done without, to be honest.”

“When will you see Vanessa again?”

“Wednesday.” Marith’s answers were getting increasingly piqued.

“I expect her to clarify more about this to you and Jonathan on Wednesday.”

“Yes, but what about my father?”

“The course of his faith is not up to me… or to him. I will keep him for observation, to withhold him from substance abuse and attempt rehabilitation. You are free to come by during visiting hours.”

“Do you keep him here? In Sweet Lake’s clinic?”

“I am afraid the Spectre Lake Residential is over-capacitated. So Gene will stay with us.”

Back in the hallway of the psychiatric ward Marith wondered if anyone had ever died from being miserable. Could someone’s heart just stop pumping, which would withhold vital organs, including the lungs, from receiving oxygen and then just stop living? Probably not, she figured, otherwise psychiatric wards wouldn’t even exist.

She stared at the diverse group of colourful outcasts around her. During her previous visit she had been too preoccupied to notice anyone or anything, besides her father. This time she finally had the time to take the rest of the ward in. She came to the baffling realisation that the people on the streets of Sweet Lake are the pinnacle of normality compared to what was to be seen in there.

Marith stood still and took in the madness around her. It kicked the mess of her own life into perspective. Next to an open doorway a man sat slumped on the floor seemingly chewing on his own toes. Scared of witnessing something she would never be able to un-see she quickly proceeded down the hallway where she walked into the next delusional seizure.

Two people completely covered in tinfoil headed her way. She had seen it before on television, in books, but the amount of detail they had put into their aluminium suits was bewildering. The couple had even made gloves, hats and shoe-covers of the shiny material.

“It’s usually not within our protocol to enable people in their delusions, but we are understaffed… And they go crazy without their foil. They think it protects them from some demon.” The last sentence was practically whispered into Marith’s ear, who turned around to learn she had been joined by the nurse she had seen on Friday.

“Aren’t we past crazy?”

The nurse chose to let that question go unanswered. “They own a store in town. Their son came back from college to take care of the business. Then it got robbed this weekend. So sad. He had a football scholarship and everything.”

Marith swallowed. These were the Parkers, Jonathan’s parents.

“It’s called ‘Folie à deux’, a shared psychotic disorder,” Marith informed. She had read about it, but had never seen it with her own eyes.

“You seem to know more about this stuff?”

“Yes, I studied psychology… for a while.”

“Come with me,” said the nurse, “but don’t tell anyone. Dr. Sybling would kill me if she knew I broke confidentiality.”

They entered a special sub section of the wing. The area seemed to be made suitable for children in an adult way. There was colourful, tiny furniture and wallpaper with little bears and unicorns and rainbows, but the space couldn’t shake the clinical ambiance all hospitals seemed to possess.

“I was transferred from gynaecology to psychiatry a few months back. This is not what I was originally trained for.”

Marith followed the young woman into an artificially lit, square room.

“We are at our wits end with this one.”

A young boy, no older than 7 years old with sleek black hair and dark, investigating eyes sat on the floor surrounded by Duplo.

“He’s very young,” Marith almost whispered. She didn’t want to perturb his concentration.

“Yes, he gets his primary education in here.”

“Why are the windows eclipsed?”

“He freaks out when he looks at reflecting surfaces. He even throws up after a while. The sink of the bathroom had a terrible clog in it. The water drained so slowly he ended up staring at it and well… Trust me, that is a mess you don’t want to be cleaning up.”

“Ah,” replied Marith with her hands deep in her pockets. She knew such a fear could stem from an underlying lack of self-knowledge or self-esteem, which isn’t unusual for children growing up.

She glanced at what must have been a mirror on the other end of the room. Also covered in parchment paper.

“Why are there no playthings?”

“Well, he has blocks and Duplo…” the nurse answered a little surprised.

“No, I mean like stuffed animals. Softer things.” The room seemed quite harsh to her.

“Oh, yeah,” she replied hesitant, “we had some when he came in… but he disembowelled them. He also pulled their eyes out.”

Marith’s stomach turned. The boy looked keen and innocent. His behaviour stood in stark contrast to his appearance.

“I am Sophie, by the way,” the nurse tried to break Marith’s silence.

“I am sorry, Sophie, but I am afraid I cannot help you with this one. I know he is suffering from Spectrophobia, but I wouldn’t know how to treat it. I hope dr. Sybling does.” She felt utterly useless.

The child looked up at them with wide eyes, as they talked about him, with a Duplo in each hand. He glanced at the flowers in Marith’s hand and then returned to his building project. It appeared to be a birdhouse. Quite advanced and curious handiwork for a kid that was still learning how to walk, talk and properly use the bathroom.

After excusing for her unhelpfulness some more she said goodbye to Sophie, took a quick look at her sleeping father and defied the cold again. She was deeply unsatisfied, disgruntled even, with her visit, however more curious for Wednesday than before.

“How are mom and her latest ATM doing?”

“You can't say that,” Lieke replied, gasping dramatically for air on the other end of their connection.

“I can and I will! Dad's in the hospital and still bending over backwards to do ridiculous alimony payments. Can mom come to the phone now?”

After coming home Marith found it was time to take a more pro-active stance. The beast of a burden needed to be confronted. After leaving for Norway with her oily dude her mother had only once visited Marith in her little apartment, like the royal family travelling to the affected areas. Their relationship was abysmal at best and Marith always dreaded having to call for birthdays and holidays.

“No, she went to Lamaze class with Kjell.”

“What?” Marith hissed.

“Apparently, that is pregnancy yoga.”

“I know what it is, Lieke. I just didn't know she was pregnant again.”

My God, Marith thought, this woman has truly made a revenue model out of her womb.

“He hasn't been able to work for I don't know how long, but he is still paying. Every month!”

“Oh my god,” Lieke whispered. “I did not know that, Marith. I really didn’t. I feel so guilty.”

“Don't,” Marith answered. “None of us knew. Mom should be the one feeling guilty and ashamed. He is renting out the lake house, Lieke. He is living in an apartment at the Bellevue building now.”

“Seriously?” She hesitated. “Where even is that?”

“On the other side of town,” Marith rolled her eyes at her sisters ignorance. “At the gas station.”

“Oh, I see,” Lieke muttered.

Conversations with her mother were usually monologues and not dialogues. It was like contesting in a rap battle. She wouldn’t give her opponent any chance to join the conversation.

All their mother ever wanted was all available attention to herself and Marith could never stand her downplaying the problems of others, so she was slightly relieved that her conniving egg-donor wasn’t at home. She just hoped Lieke would get the message across.

Her hands were not only trembling, but also stone cold and stiff as bricks as she hung up the phone. Hiking to and from the hospital the low hanging clouds and watery cold had seized the opportunity to permeate both her clothing and her body. Barely being able to feel her feet she was in desperate need of something warm.

She was so sickeningly pale she could see the veins under her skin in the mirror of the bathroom before stepping in the shower. She had gotten translucent to the point the map of unpigmented areas had almost become invisible. However, the temporal disappearing of her Vitiligo had made place for a new map. A painful one with many gruesome colours. A reminder of an attack that had come to feel like it happened ages ago.

She stepped under the steaming hot shower, which was undoubtedly going to worsen the deplorable condition of her skin. It didn’t matter. She needed the warmth of the water to relieve her heaviness and her struggles. She wanted to be held, to be hugged. She longed for someone to dry her tears. She wanted to be loved and not be lost anymore. Instead, she stood trembling as the water rinsed the salt of her face.

When Marith returned to Sweet Lake she expected things to be better, calmer. She wanted to focus on getting rest and making decisions about the future. This was not what she had in mind.

Marith just wanted to skip to the good part of life. When all this would be over. She just didn’t know if a blissful moment like that would ever arrive. She felt like a chicken searching for an eternally lost egg.

Marith could have never imagined the things she walked into when she had returned to Sweet Lake, but she started to wonder if it would have made any difference if she had known. Who was Marith to question where she was going? Who was she to wonder about the course her life was taking?