Chapter 25
The twins hovered over the pile of letters on the bedroom floor, their father’s handwriting staring up at them with eyes of faded ink. The walls around them stood bare, the room almost seeming to shrink in embarrassment at its naked state.
“So, where do we start?” asked Charlie.
“Just grab one, I guess,” said Nora.
Charlie bent to the pile and plucked out one of the pages, then crossed to his bed and made himself comfortable as he read. Nora took a deep breath and did the same, perching herself on the edge of her dad’s old mattress, her body buzzing too much to strive for anything more reclined.
Hey Charlie Horse,
Nora traced the letters with her fingertips, trying to mimic the way her father’s pen would have moved across the page.
She could almost see him hunched over his desk, scribbling to his brother with the same enthusiastic intensity he’d always worn across his face while working on a new project.
The light indents left in the page by the pen nib were soft against Nora’s fingers.
The words were slanted, pulling up to the right.
There was no care taken in the penmanship, letters running into one another in a way that said he had no one to impress, that he was writing to someone he loved, that all he cared about was what he was sharing rather than how he was sharing it. Nora knew that hand well. She read on.
Hope you’re good. Did you ever convince Mom about instant coffee? I still think she’d like it if she gave it a chance.
The twins are growing so fast. Nora’s already trying to walk, the little daredevil. We ended up in the ER with Charlie last week after he shoved a pinto bean up his nose. Hannah said he takes after his father.
I know you’re sick of me saying it, but I think you’d love it here, out in the world. We took the kids to the zoo a few months ago, did you know about those?
Give everyone my best. Or the ones who want it, anyway. Hope the rest will get over things eventually.
Later,
Mars Bar
Nora snorted slightly at the sign-off. The thought of her stoic bear of a dad referring to himself as Mars Bar struck her as hilarious.
Though she supposed she didn’t know the same Martin Bird that Charles or the rest of them knew.
Still, there was something about that nickname that rang a bell.
She’d heard it somewhere before, she just couldn’t quite place where.
It certainly wouldn’t have been from her mother.
She’d only ever called her husband Martin or bunny, which was not Nora’s preference.
Nora couldn’t think of who else in her life would have known her dad when he was still Mars Bar, but someone must have for her to have overheard it.
Would Richard or Ruby have called him that?
They didn’t seem the type. It must have been Charles or Patty, though she was pretty sure she’d have noticed.
She shook her head. Of all the things she had to worry about, that seemed by far the least important.
“This one’s from when Dad and Mom first met,” said Charlie, interrupting her thoughts. “Did you know Mom had ‘legs like a gazelle and a voice you should have to dial an eight hundred number to hear’?”
“He clearly hadn’t heard her sing yet,” said Nora. “Anything relevant?”
Charlie shook his head. “Nada, other than the fact that Dad and Charles had the world’s lamest nicknames. You?”
“No, though it looks like I’ve got the first time you were in the ER for shoving something up your nose, and it wasn’t the Lego piece. Or my earring.”
He cocked his head at her.
“Pinto bean,” said Nora.
“Nice.”
They both went for new letters and resumed scouring.
Most of the notes seemed to be generic life updates about Martin’s job and family.
Nora knew she should scan past this, but she couldn’t help losing herself in the mundane details of the life she’d all but forgotten: childhood milestones, family trips, and ballet recitals all told through the voice of her father.
She could practically hear it, rich and soothing like warm milk.
The anger she’d felt towards him for leaving this place and its promise of safety faded as she read.
Martin Bird might have made a mistake keeping his family from eternal life in Virgo Bay, but he loved them with the ferocity and determination of the ink that still clung to the paper in her hands all these years later.
That was a fact impossible to miss. It was the thesis of every letter; it made every period read like an exclamation mark, turned every sentence into a declaration.
But then the tone changed. In the more recent letters, the carefree exuberance of a new father shifted into something darker.
The content became less about life outside of Virgo Bay and more about the little world within it.
Not because Martin Bird was homesick; quite the opposite.
It seemed the more he saw of the world, and life, and death, the more he saw his hometown as the enemy.
Nora sank to the floor and sifted through the remaining letters until she found the very last one, dated less than a week before her parents died. She curled up right there on the rug and let her eyes wash over the words.
Hey Charlie Horse,
Maybe you’re right. You usually are. Tell them I’m sorry for what I have to do. But I do have to do it. I know you’ll understand, even if the others won’t. Life was never meant to be forever.
Virgo Bay is the town that death forgot. But without death there can be no life. I’ve watched Mom and Dad and Grandpa succumb to the monotony of an existence built on fear of the alternative. At least you leave town from time to time, but the rest of them are trapped in purgatory.
Hannah says it’s the kind of place that destroys people.
I can’t help but agree. We have this neighbor…
I know I promised not to tell anyone about Virgo Bay when I left, but I trust him, we both do.
Anyway, when I did, he told us he works for this organization—I can’t get too into it, but they deal with this kind of thing.
Death, and what comes after. Remember those files we found in the linen closet when we were kids?
I think Mom worked for them too, or something similar.
All I know is Virgo Bay is wrong. It shouldn’t exist. And the people at this organization, they can do something about it.
I’m going to them. You can’t tell anyone about this.
Promise me you’ll hide this letter once you’ve read it.
Burn it if that’s not too dramatic. I don’t want anyone to die, I just want you all to live.
Later,
Mars Bar
Nora sucked in what she realized was her first breath since she’d started reading the letter.
The room seemed to shift slightly, as if she were on a chair collapsing in slow motion.
The secrets revealed in that letter exploded around her like glass, the shards piercing her reality until it shattered too.
Someone had told Dad about S.C.Y.T.H.E., and he was going to report the Blind Spot to them.
And then he and Mom died, only days after this letter was sent.
He’d begged Charles not to let anyone read it, but someone must have. The question was who.
At some point during Nora’s time reading the letter, Jessica had made her way from Charlie’s bed to the floor and was slowly waddling towards Nora. Nora stared at Jessica. Jessica stared at Nora. Then Nora’s eyes widened to saucers in her head, and this time she was the one squawking.
“You!”
Jessica blinked at her. Nora scrambled to her feet.
“You’re the one!”
Charlie sat up on his bed, eyeing Nora with the same look of utter bafflement as the parrot. Nora’s head was spinning. She needed revelations to hit her one at a time. This was frankly excessive.
“Fucking bird,” she hollered at Charlie.
“You’re a Bird too,” said Charlie.
“No, your bird. Look.” Nora shoved the letter she was holding into her brother’s face and pointed to the sign-off. “Mars Bar—have you ever heard anyone call Dad that before?”
“No,” said Charlie, still furrowing his brows.
“No,” said Nora. “Well, I have. I just couldn’t remember who’d said it. But it was her. It was Jessica.”
“Jessica called Dad ‘Mars Bar’?”
“Yes,” Nora practically shouted. “And a neighbor told him about S.C.Y.T.H.E! And Dad wanted to report the town to them!”
“Huh,” said Charlie. Then: “Did you get into my stash?”
Nora groaned and waggled the letter at him again, this time indicating he should actually read the whole thing. She waited until at last Charlie poked his head above it. His expression was enough to tell her he’d read the same words she had.
“Well, fuck.”
“Yep,” Nora agreed. “Sounds like a good motive to me.”
“I bet it was Rachelle’s dad.”
“What?”
“The neighbor. That guy was definitely hiding something.”
“Yeah, a second family. Don’t you remember? His wife ended up divorcing him and running off with the other woman.”
“Oh yeah. That was cool. But what does any of that have to do with Jessica?”
Nora looked at the parrot in question. “I have no idea, but she knew Dad’s nickname.
That means she must have known someone from Virgo Bay before she came here with us.
You said the note you found with her said something else, right?
That Jessica could tell us what we needed to know, and something else. What was that something else?”
“Oh yeah,” said Charlie. “Just that whoever wrote the note regretted everything. Kinda vague, honestly.”
Charlie’s words ping-ponged back and forth between the walls of Nora’s skull. They fit together somehow, likely with something Nora already knew, but how? Then the pieces fell into place.