No, my mother said. You stay away from her.
My grandfather froze, as if my mother could command all.
I still want to press charges, my mother said. He wanted to take her away to Mexico. Isn’t that child abduction? Or can we keep him away, maybe a restraining order?
My mother was still on her knees. The uniformed officers beside her now.
The policeman was slow in his response, his mouth open as he considered. Okay, he said. We can interview your father now. Then we’ll go from there.
Sheri, the old man said. Please. He walked toward her but the police grabbed him again. Sheri. He stopped struggling, went slack, had his head down. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. But don’t do this now.
~ ~ ~
Like eggs in tight clusters, the most dense of the anemones. A velvet-green moon at the end of each stalk, swaying in current. Lit from within, impossible to locate. There and not there. Some buoyant sense within me, being part of a family now, belonging. The police had separated us, and the policewoman I hated was questioning me again, but I only watched the anemones and thought of all the times we would have together at every birthday, every Sunday, every day after school at the aquarium. My own grandfather. The most wondrous gift of my life.
You will tell me, the woman said.
Body of an anemone only some white constellation in the background, hidden and appearing and hidden again. I couldn’t say what jellyfish or anemones were made of.
When were you going to Mexico? What was the plan?
My grandfather in some other corridor, out of sight, my mother removed also. My mother become strange, something I couldn’t understand.
Mexico, Caitlin. Focus. Look at me.
But the woman didn’t dare touch me. I watched the clownfish slide among the moons, all leaning in, and I knew to say nothing. Close against the glass, my own shadow face, one world hidden within another. And what would I call my grandfather? Grandpa? Or use his name, and what was his name, and where had he been all these years?
Like clusters of planets, lit by softer suns. Planets huddling together, without orbits, swaying together in some invisible current, no celestial wind but a force magnetic, scattering all and aligning again. Scale lost whenever I stared into a tank. Each universe opening.
Caitlin, did he try to kiss you?
I put my lips against the glass and kissed, held in place. My lips the base of an anemone, the foot attaching to rock. My head swaying slowly with those strange arms, my hair come alive, clownfish sliding in and tickling my scalp.
Caitlin! the policewoman said. She snapped her fingers close to my face, but all sound was deadened, submerged. Would he live with us? Would we go somewhere to live with him?
Did he make you touch him? Did he open his pants?
I closed my eyes for a while and just clung to the glass with my lips and hands. I thought of the handfish and their red painted lips, guarding their golden eggs. A garden of purple seagrass, my own small cave in the rock.
The glass was warm. A faint vibration, a humming, and this policewoman lost, floating away.
My mother arrived finally, her hand on my back. I let go of the glass and collapsed into her.
I’m sorry, Caitlin, she said.
I looked for my grandfather as we entered the lobby. Where is he? I asked.
Shh, she said.
I collapsed down to the floor. No, I said. I’m not leaving without him.
Caitlin!
Are you going to hit me?
Evelyn was not far away, near the doors. The police, also. My voice not loud, but perhaps loud enough. My mother knelt close and whispered. Caitlin, we have to be careful. I’ll never hit you again, okay? But we have to be careful. And you don’t know about your grandfather. You don’t know what he did to me and my mother.
I’m not leaving without him.
You’re never going to see him again, Caitlin. I’m sorry.
I hate you.
My mother broke then. It was very strange, something I’d never seen before. She broke completely, curling onto the carpet beside me, her arms around me, sobbing. Her entire body convulsing. The police came near, tried to speak with her, but she didn’t stop, and she wouldn’t let go of me. I was drowning in her, my arm trapped against her face and slick with tears. Her breath shaking, as if she were being crushed. All sound pinched and frightened.
Ms. Thompson. It was the uniformed cop. He kept trying to talk with her.
I was being pulled back into her, convulsions of a reverse birth, her mouth strained open. I was scared of her. The desperate way she clung, her shaking.
Ms. Thompson, we have to talk with you. You have to calm down. We can’t hold your father. There’s no evidence he had any plan to take your daughter to Mexico. It was only one comment about manta rays, about a nice place to go someday. He says he was thinking of you. A family vacation. The three of you, and he would pay. He said he asked to meet you today, that you’ve been estranged for many years. This is not police business. This is something you have to work out in your family. He also says he touched your daughter’s chest only once, because she was panicking and he was worried, and this matches the description your daughter gave.
My mother shaking her head, rubbing in hard against me. No words but only these terrible sobs that came fast and hard, almost like hiccups.
We aren’t going to hold him. Can you hear me? I’m not going to bother you anymore today. You’ve wasted enough of our time. Don’t drive your car until you can pull it together, okay?
My mother kept crying, until long after they left. It was just the two of us on that carpet in the middle of the lobby. The people at the aquarium too afraid to come closer, my grandfather nowhere, though I kept looking for him. The most terrifying time of my life, seeing my mother broken like that, and we needed him then.
~ ~ ~
I didn’t sleep that night. Lost in darkness, aircraft overhead above the surface. Sound of them like missiles coming closer. Faint liquid light on the ceiling, underside of waves. An ocean empty, cold and without texture, unable even to mute sound. All smaller lights gone, bioluminescence a memory only, no constellations.
My grandfather. We weren’t alone. What if there were other family out there too? My father, an aunt or an uncle, cousins, all hidden away by my mother, kept from me. She was still sobbing. I listened all night, and her grief came in tides. I’d think she had fallen away into sleep and then she’d begin again. She said things, small cries in anger and pain, but I never understood. I was too young for any of it. What I remember most is the fear. Everything too much. My blanket a thin covering, no protection at all.
Slow morning, gray and watery light, sound of rain. We rose only to use the bathroom, and she called in sick to work. Otherwise we remained in our separate beds. No school. No Shalini. No aquarium. My stomach growling and knees sore from shifting onto my side. I somehow finally fell asleep and woke late in the afternoon.
Mom? I called out. I had this panic that she was gone.
But she came in and lay down next to me, facing each other like sea horses. Her eyes red and cheeks and lips puffy, hair tangled.
I love you, sweet pea, she said.
I know.
And we’re going to be okay.
Do I call him Grandpa?
We don’t call him anything, sweet pea. He left long ago, so he doesn’t get to come back.
I was too tired to fight my mother. She had an arm over me, and I just watched her eyes and mouth.
You know I don’t talk about the past, my mother said. But I’m going to tell you. You need to know. My mother was dying. His wife. And he left. Just disappeared and we never heard from him. He ran away. This was when I was just starting high school, only a couple years older than you. I took care of my mother, so I didn’t finish school. I had to drop out. I never went to college, never got to have my life. He took that away. And now I have the worst jobs a person can have, with no money and no future. We’ll be okay, and you don’t need to worry, but I won’t be able to become anything. Do you understand?