by Merav Walklet

 

Conan, Help! 

            The big, white, block letters trickled behind the bus as Esra glanced over her shoulder to double-check what she had just seen.  How odd that the street be filled with a giant sloppy message, so direct, so personal, so vaguely painted out in the open.  She couldn’t help but the feel the oddest part of all had to be the coincidental fact that her brother’s name happened to be Conan.  She shook it off, until ten minutes later when another message rapidly approached the front wheels of the transit: SOS Monster!

            This time Esra stood up, turned her whole body, and gaped at the retreating words back down the road.  Excitement, shock, and curiosity surged through her instantly as she sat back down, shaking her head and frowning in utter perplexity. She had taken this route for many years, had witnessed the same dull passing houses and empty cars, lifeless shrubbery and cold foggy air.  Although Esra did drive to work some of the time, she always followed the same route and had never before seen something so strange come up along her daily commute.  In many ways she preferred taking the bus, despite the long route from Rockridge, because it gave her time to enjoy her coffee or read in the warm, empty bus, which was usually a relaxing and peaceful way to start the day. 

            After Marry me, Conan! and Monster, I love you! she began making a mental list.  The painted messages in the middle of the street had popped up overnight, and she felt strangely stricken by the eerie appearances of her brother’s name out in the public.  As if his name was somehow inappropriately revealing, or perhaps she was just worried other people who knew him would mistake these messages to be for him.

             Along the winding roads exiting Berkeley and entering El Cerrito, the lyrics were abandoned, and the bus trucked along stop by stop, until Esra pulled the wire and got off in Kensington where she worked at a dental office.  She pulled open the heavy front door and walked into a gust of warm, heavy air smelling like plastic and fluoride.  She unlocked her office in the back, and stepped in while taking off her jacket. The goldfish tank bubbled and the exotic colorful fish darted through the water in alarm at the suddenly illuminated room.  After putting on her white coat and pulling her hair back, she sat down behind her desk and began rifling through her patients’ folders from the previous week, and glancing over her schedule for the next few days.  A light knock sounded at the doorway, and Esra looked up to see the secretary, Allison, peering in.

            “Good morning Allison,” Esra smiled warmly. 

            “Hey, morning.  How was your weekend?” she asked, fumbling with her hands.

            “Oh you know, same old.  I did finish my last book and start a new one though.  It’s called Identity.  Very gripping so far.  How was your weekend?”

            “Oh, well…”  Allison walked through the doorway, dragging her hand across the frame.  She was tall and thin, and in many ways too elegant for a dental office setting.  Her fingers were very long and bony, and her hair was tightly pulled back.  Her skin had no wrinkles.  “I’m just so tired, too tired to do anything exciting.  I always find myself at home eating in front of the television and feeling very bored.  It’s been so long since we’ve gotten together!  We should again.”  she sat down in one of the chairs facing Esra’s desk and sunk into it dramatically, tucking her chin toward her chest.  She was very childish.  It was true, Esra had taken Allison under her wing a few times, offered to show her places, had dinner with her on occasion.  But then Allison got very awkward, and stopped being so interested; it was strange that she wanted to ‘get together’ again out of the blue.

            “Oh sure, yeah!  The weekdays aren’t great for me, especially because I feel like I have more root canals this week than anyone on the planet, but Fridays I’m mostly up for drinks or anything, we’ll plan something, ok?” 

            Allison nodded and lifted herself up out of the chair smiling.  “Your brother has an appointment today actually.  Not a root canal though,”  she added as she slipped through the door.  Esra looked up and pursed her lips; a quizzical expression on her face that swiftly morphed into a pleased one. 

 

            As the day went on, it got sunnier and brighter.  Patients came in grumpy and stressed, and left numb and angry.  Esra worked primarily with adults, so when a filling had to be done, stickers or toys barely compensated for the pain.  After her lunch break, she went over to Allison’s desk and peered over into the appointment book.

            “What time is Conan’s appointment?” she asked.

            “Hmm…in about a half hour.”  Esra looked forward to seeing her brother.  Truthfully, they weren’t extremely close, but she was his dental care provider and sometimes a check-up before a meet-up was an indication that they had spent too much time apart.  Also, Conan had just been in a serious relationship - almost married, he had said - that took up a lot of his time.  It bothered Esra a little bit that she had never met the almost-fiancé, even if she was just almost, and even if it was over, of which she was under the impression.

            Forty-five minutes passed.   Conan was late, and Esra found herself glancing over from the gaping, drooling mouth of a cranky Mrs. Sullivan every two seconds to see if Conan had walked through the door.  Every time the jingle of the door sounded, she cocked her head to see who it was, to see if Conan hadn’t actually forgotten he had a dentist appointment with his only sister.

            After an hour and a half, she had given up hope that he would come sweating and panting through the door with some brilliant excuse for his tardiness.  She was slightly worried, not that Conan was some punctual freak or an extremely reliable guy, but he was her brother, and she felt strangely disrespected.  Other patients had their busy lives - work, kids, family; but Esra was Conan’s family, and in some ways she felt that gave him more of a reason to go to the dentist.  Apparently not.

            Around five o’clock when she was all done, she went to her office to call Conan.  She waited as the line rang five times before clicking over to his voice message.  His young, energetic voice encouraged the caller to leave a message and he would call back ASAP!  Promising punctuality.  Broke that promise today.  Where was he? 

            “Hey Conan!  It’s me, Esra… I was just checking in because I could have sworn my secretary said you had an appointment here with me today.  What gives bucko?  No show?  Haha, well, it’s your teeth that will have to pay for it!  I hope we can have dinner some time, it’s been too long… well, call me! Love you.”  She hung up the phone and slumped over her desk, feeling a tiny flicker of concern lick at her insides.   

            Along the bus ride home, she saw the painted messages on the other side of the street and talked some sense into herself.  She had no idea who “Monster” was, and didn’t even find the messages particularly urgent.  They just seemed like the playful efforts of maybe the girlfriend of some other Conan, how sweet, in fact!  As quickly as her concern developed, it soon after vanished.  She felt silly, and gently chuckled at herself in the back of the bus.

            After a week, and several attempted calls later, Esra still hadn’t heard from her brother.  It had reached the point where, concern aside, she just wanted to see him and felt like he might be avoiding her.  She decided to surprise him by stopping by later in the week (if he hadn’t called by then) and ringing his doorbell herself.  She continued to clean teeth and whiten every day, planning for Friday after work when she intended to show up on Conan’s doorstep.

            As she was rushing out for lunch Allison called out,  “Hey, mind if I join you?”  Esra paused for only a second before holding the door open behind her, and replying, “Of course not!” and Allison grabbed her coat. 

            They went to Shai’s Deli and sat outside in the warm spring air.  They casually caught up, laughing lightly and chatting over iced teas.  Allison had a lot of direction, she was a collected, smart girl who Esra was very intrigued by.  Allison was also very serious, almost melancholic in a way, but she had a flicker in her eye that kept her young.

            “You know,” Allison began, sipping her iced tea. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.  I know we haven’t spent too much time together out of the office, but I’ve really been wanting to get together…”

            “Oh don’t worry about it Allison, I’m just as busy as you are!  And look, we’re having lunch now!” 

            “No, that’s not what I mean.  It’s about Conan actually…”  Esra swallowed an ice cube and shot Allison a defensive look.  She tried to settle herself.  “Well, god Esra, I feel terrible keeping secrets from you, especially because you’ve been so nice to me.  But well, Conan didn’t want it to be weird, and I really did love him… look at me, I’m nervous and I’m going too fast…”  She pulled her hair back into a knot and leaned back.  Esra’s eyes were piercing, interrogative.  She waited, without pushing.  “You see Esra, Conan and I were dating for a while.  It got pretty serious.  He asked for my number after his last check up about 8 months ago.  I knew he was your brother, so I didn’t want it to be awkward.  I kept meaning to tell you, but Conan and I just kept getting more and more serious… he kept telling me to wait… said he wanted everything to be perfect.  He didn’t want you to know, but he was going through some stuff.  The old stuff… well, he didn’t want you to worry!  He didn’t want you to ask me about him all the time, he didn’t want me to have to lie…”

            “Lie about what Allison?”  Esra asked, her voice flat.

            “Well, he tried to keep it from me too, but I knew.  He was spending a lot of time in El Cerrito again, practically every day.  It started out with a job at the High School, P.E or something… then I’m almost sure he got fired… but he wouldn’t tell me.  Kept saying he was going to work.  Well, work with the kids at least… I knew what he was doing.  I didn’t want to say anything though!  You of all people know how Conan gets when people pry…”  She fiddled with her fingers, appearing to grow more anxious by the minute.  “We started to have problems.  Little stuff.  Nothing too serious… I mean, we talked about marriage, Esra!  I really did love him.  I do love him.  But he stopped calling about a month ago.  When I saw he had an appointment I was excited, thought I could talk to him, see what went wrong.  At first when he didn’t show, I thought it was all because of me.  Now I’m worried he got into something bigger than he could handle…”  Esra’s eyes had narrowed and gone blurry.  Her heart was pounding.  She couldn’t decide if she was more angry or worried.  Allison was holding back tears, but Esra couldn’t sympathize. 

            “Do you know who Conan was hanging out with in particular?  Is there any reason for me to get the police involved?”  She tried to keep her voice calm.

            “Oh god no, I don’t think so… I just feel like he’s avoiding me!  But since you’re his sister and all, I was hoping you could find out.  Well, not that I want you to go out of your way… But yeah, I do know a guy.  A guy who I’m almost certain he was closing… deals… with.”  Esra flinched.  “His name’s Ralph Coelho.  Works at the high school also, think he’s a English teacher or something… Conan never said much…”  Esra stood up and brushed off her slacks.  If there was no reason to worry, there were plenty of reasons to be mad.  She didn’t want to do Allison’s dirty work, she just wanted to make sure her brother wasn’t making stupid decisions, again.  But at the same time, she felt the same reservations Allison felt - a strong resistance to interfere with Conan’s privacy, a matter he took very seriously.

            “Then what about the messages Allison?  The paint? Was that you?”  Allison turned bright pink. 

            “Well…yes…and I know what you’re thinking!  You must think I’m so childish.  But I still love him Esra, and I want him to know that I’m sorry for not trusting him.  I know he must have seen them, he drives this way all the time to get to El Cerrito.  I call him Monster - you know, as a pet name.  Most of the messages are actually inside jokes… except the ‘marry me conan,’ I guess that one slipped out… but it’s real…”  Esra was speechless.  She felt confused, anxious, tired.  Heavy with an overload of information.  She felt embarrassed for being so out of his life.

            “Thank you Allison, I have to go now.  I’ll talk to you later.  I‘m going to check up on Conan later tonight, and I‘ll let you know what I know when I know it.”  And with that, she headed to her car, started the ignition, and headed for El Cerrito High. 

           

            It took very little effort to locate Mr. Coelho.  She marched into the school office, told them she was looking for a classroom, for a parent teacher conference, and they gave her the portable number.  She walked over, occasionally passing patches of teenagers who looked at her with disgust.  She looked right back, hating them for being the epicenter of her brother’s life, hating them for constantly greedily pulling him into an abyss of addicted living.  He didn’t need this or them, but Conan obviously had no idea what he needed.  She was going to talk to Ralph Coelho, then head right over to Conan’s and clear everything up in person.  She was sick of playing phone tag.  She was sick of being ignored just for caring.

            “Mr. Coelho?  Hi, my name is Esra Lingard…”  Ralph looked up from his desk, his eyes burried under a thicket of orange eyebrows and curly lashes.  His face was creased with lines, but shiny and awake. 

            “May I help you?”  he asked, smiling lightly. 

            “Yes, actually… or at least, I hope so.  I was told you spend quite a bit of time with my brother, Conan?  Conan Lingard?”  Ralph raised his eyebrows, then coughed after a heavy exhale.  His expression was tired, skeptic.  He nodded.

            “Yeah, I know the guy.  Owes me money, if you must know.  Haven’t heard from him in about a week now.  Are you with the police?”

            “No, no.  I was just told that he’s been spending a lot of time out here… with you, and I was just trying to get a hold of him… it’s been a while… he missed his dentist appointment…”  Ralph chuckled.  He was a large man, with a deep, slow voice.  He didn’t seem particularly dangerous, but he didn’t seem particularly trustworthy either.

            “Who said he was spending a lotta time out here?” 

            “Er…well, his ex girlfriend, who works for me, Allison?  Have you heard her name before?”  With that, Ralph let out a huge, deep laugh and then shook his head.  His expression was asking her are you serious?

            “Listen Esra, I gotta tell you first, that chick is loony.  Of course she hasn’t heard from Conan, he’s through with her!  You don’t even know the half of it…”

            “Then please, if you don’t mind, let me know what you know?”  Ralph looked at his watch and shook his head.  He was clearly impatient.

            “I’ll let you know this, Ms. Lingard.  They got pretty serious at one point, until that Allison girl got too drunk one night and one thing led to another… but she cheated on Conan.  She tried denying it, but he knew what really happened.  When she got pregnant she thought it was the other guys’.  Conan thought so too, so he dumped her, and as far as I know he hasn’t talked to her since.  She’s been following him around, calling non-stop.  She came around here about a week and a half ago, looking for Conan, says the baby’s his.  I don’t think Conan found out yet.  Shit, I’m not gonna be the one to tell him that.  ‘Specially if it is a load of crap.  Yeah Conan and I got our differences, and if he doesn’t show his face soon there will be trouble, but right now I can tell you I don’t know where he is.  All I know is he’s probably laying low to avoid that crazy sonofabitch.”  He looked at his watch again.  “Listen, I gotta go.  This isn’t exactly orthodox for me to be talking to you, especially because you and I both know why Conan and I are involved.  And I’m just telling you, if I get a visit from the police I’ll turn to you first.  Don’t come around here again.”  He stood up slowly, and walked out of the room with an air of apathy.  Esra didn’t know where Conan was, but was becoming more and more disappointed with what she discovered about his life by the minute. She got up, steadying her breath, and decided it was time to go see Conan herself.

            Esra drove down the Arlington, occasionally tempted to glance at the messages on the other side of the street as she whizzed by.  Yes, it started as a strange coincidence, but Esra felt strangely compelled, and wondered if anyone else, anyone who didn’t have a brother or cousin or husband named Conan, found the words so striking and peculiar?  She almost couldn’t believe Allison had written them, or that the messages were as simple as they seemed.  Once upon a time, like a pack-rat or an over-observant child, Esra would have kept little details or discoveries like this lodged in her head, snapped into a mental rolodex, filed away neatly for her fancy at times of boredom.  But this time the odd observation struck so close to home, entirely because of a stupid name, entirely because of her foolish brother, that she felt like an idiot.

            Conan’s house was in Oakland off of Park, right across from Oakland High School.  Esra didn’t like the idea of Conan spending so much time around kids, when he had struggled with drug problems all his life.  As it turned out, her concern was appropriate, only he wasn’t spending time with the kids in Oakland like he allegedly was at ECHS.  She didn’t want to be intrusive, and least of all too motherly, because every time she did so Conan pulled away faster than ever.  He had been a wild child, and growing up in El Cerrito hadn’t prompted any unusual teenage rebellion, however he seemed particularly unable to let go of his teenage years after they had passed. 

            She parked outside his tall eggshell-colored apartment building and made her way up the stucco porch.  The fire-escape exits were tangled above her head, and the twenties-style architecture loomed around her like in an old movie.

            She rang the buzzer for the fourth time before pulling out her spare key to his apartment from the time she was nursing him out of the hospital.  He had gotten a terrible case of pneumonia and had been hospitalized for weeks, after which she taken care of him at home and spent the most time with him since they had when they were kids.   He was always quiet, reserved, cut off.  She always felt like he was keeping some tragic secret from her, to protect her, something too heavy to hold all on his own.  She would have begged him to share it with her, had she believed the effort would have had any result.  She wouldn’t allow him to avoid her; he could run from debt or from fatherhood, but she would not tolerate him running from her.

            The apartment building smelled like carpet and buzzed with florescent lighting.  The white cement staircase was splattered with stains and dirt, and the iron railings were as cold as if they had never been used.  Conan’s apartment was on the fourth floor.  Once on his floor, the air suddenly smelled stale and dry, and she felt strangely suffocated and nervous.  He wouldn’t be happy that she barged in.  Then again, if he wasn’t home, maybe he wouldn’t know.  But what was she doing then?  Breaking into an empty apartment to snoop for heroin?  She couldn’t stop herself from being nosy, though she despised herself for being so.  She didn’t want to anger Conan, and she didn’t want to baby him or give him any more reason to pull away.  All she wanted was for him to understand that she cared, as a big sister, as his family.  Why couldn’t he see that?  Nevertheless, she put the key in the lock, turned it, and without the lock snapping, the door eased open as if it had been expecting her.  Unlocked.

            Immediately her nostrils filled with the smell of salt and iron.  Something smelled damp, sour, rancid.  It was dull though, hovering like a sheet in the air right below her nose.       

            “Conan…?”  she called meekly.  No answer, and she walked on.  The apartment was littered with heaps of laundry, bags of garbage, and scattered paper.  She tactfully wove her way through the mess, alert but silent.  She felt her heart start to flutter and her ears start to pound.  Why are you so afraid? It’s just Conan!  Her palms became sweaty, and her legs felt heavy.  His bedroom door was cracked open, and from it light filtered through the street-side window.  She steadied her pace as best she could, and wrapped her fingers along the inside of the door.  Swallowing, gulping, trying to digest the panic, her quivering hand pulled the door open and then immediately snapped up to her mouth to muffle her scream.

            Conan’s body was like a piece of art, mangled and arranged delicately and peacefully, as if murder were an artistic process.  His neck hung back, his eyes sagged red, his mouth was caked and filled with dried blood.  She dragged her hand across his stone cold cheek, feeling his cool blood soak against her palms.  Her tears were stilted, she was grasping for air.  She couldn’t save him from his real life, the one he kept so secret from her.  Across his naked body, below the clean slash at his neck, in red letters was carved: Conan, why won’t you love me?

            In her mind it should have been clear.  But strangely, she couldn’t grasp the truth.  The truth slipped through her fingers as she stood there, ambivalent to clues or to the unknown.  Nothing was clear.  Conan, Help!  vibrated in her ears, followed by an improvised “I’m pregnant!  SOS Monster!  I mean it!  The baby is yours!  Marry me Conan!  We can start a life together!”

            Esra saw, scattered around his delicate, ashen body the tools of a dental surgeon, the tools she used every day.  In her hand she felt the key to his apartment, in her heart she felt the hurt of his neglect.  In her head she had memorized the distance, the constant disconnect.  All around her and within her the evidence was expanding, a reality was being formed.  And in her ears she heard the sirens approaching, halt outside, and followed by footsteps up the stairs, coming to take her away.