Chevy Stevens - Always Watching

“People change.” He finally met my gaze. “Don’t talk to him about any of this unless you want it all over Shawnigan. He has a big mouth.”

“So you’ve never spoken to him since he came back?”

He paused, a tiny hesitation, and then said, “Nope.”

My brother had lied to me again.

After I left Robbie’s, I thought over our conversation. His desire to keep me from talking to Levi was obvious, but I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to break whatever tentative relationship we were forging. But I had a feeling Robbie was hiding something—something that Levi knew. Part of me wasn’t sure if I wanted to open this door, but I’d already come too far to pull back now. In the end, still wrestling with my loyalty to my brother, I decided to take the long way around the lake and drive by the marina to check things out and maybe spot Levi.

As it happened, just as I neared the marina, I noticed a man pulling up to the dock in a ski boat, the flash of his ginger-colored hair catching my eye. Was that Levi? I took a closer look. It was definitely him. Now I also realized whom I’d seen that day at the pay phones by the store.

I slowed my vehicle to a crawl, still debating whether I should talk to him. He leaped out and began tying up the boat, then turned, like he’d felt someone’s gaze on him, and surveyed the parking lot. Our eyes met. At first he looked confused, then a startled hint of recognition, followed by more confusion. He knew me, but he wasn’t sure how. I pulled over and parked the car. He continued to tie up the boat, glancing in my direction once in a while.

I walked toward him, my stomach suddenly tight and rolling, my hands clammy. Blaming it on the sway of the wharf, I took a few deep breaths and planted my feet square. “Hello, Levi. I’m not sure if you remember me….”

He stopped what he was doing and took another look at my face. I was about to give my name when he said, “You’re Nadine.”

So his confusion hadn’t been about not recognizing my face, but something else. I’d misread his expression. Another person who didn’t want to be reminded of their time at the commune?

“You do remember me?”

“You look just like your mother, thought I was seeing a ghost.”

I was feeling the same way. I flashed to the image of Coyote’s limp body, mouth hanging open, slack as the water ran out. I shook off the thought.

We studied each other. I was uncomfortable, but not sure why. Then a gust of cold wind blew off the lake, making me shiver. Levi noticed, saying, “Did you want to go into my office?” He gestured behind me. I turned and saw that he had a cabin beside the lake, with its own private dock and wharf, where boats, Jet Skis, and paddleboats were lined up, most of them covered for the season.

“Sure, that might be better.”

In his office, which was in the front room of the cabin, I spotted a door leading off into what I assumed were his living quarters. He offered a coffee, from an old coffeemaker that had seen better days. I passed and watched as he poured himself a cup, then sat behind the desk, tapping his pen on a pad of paper. He had an aged-surfer look about him, his face weathered from sun. He also radiated a wired-up energy, his eyes never quite meeting mine, and he was thin, almost gaunt. He sniffed, tossing his head in a quick backward motion. Drugs?

He said, “So what brings you up here?”

I noticed the use of the word “up.” So he knew I lived in Victoria. Who’d he been talking to? My body stiffened, but I kept my tone friendly as I said, “How did you hear I moved to Victoria?”

He narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking, shrugged. “Don’t know, someone must’ve mentioned it.” I thought about the day I’d seen him on the phone outside the museum, suspecting he’d gone over after and asked about me.

“I was just visiting Robbie.”

“What’s he up to these days? Still running the excavator?”

I nodded. So he knew a little about Robbie. I didn’t want to show my cards, but I wanted to test whether Robbie had lied or not about talking to him. “Things seem to be going well for him, but I guess you already know that.”

Another tap of his pen. “Haven’t seen Robbie for years, just his truck around town.”

I decided to cut to the chase. “Why did you leave the commune?”

He stopped tapping but smiled his goofy grin, reminding me of the happy kid that he was, at least until his father died, and the grin had become scarce.

“That’s kind of a personal question.”

“So you don’t want to answer it?”

He laughed. “I don’t care, just thought it was a funny question. I left because they were freaks.”

“I heard some bad things have been going on there.”

His smile faded a bit. “Aaron, he’s twisted, man. Like really twisted.” His voice took on a bitter tone. “He’d preach all this stuff about freedom, but then he kept a tight rein on all the pot and everything. I hated that place.”

Aaron had called marijuana our salvation because it was the closest we could come to experiencing the bliss we’d find on the other side. None of the members were allowed any for personal use, and it was only doled out by Aaron. If Levi had a drug problem, as I suspected, it would have been difficult for him at the center. I also sensed there was something deeper to his anger, an embarrassment, and I wondered if he’d been made to leave.

“Can you tell me more?”

“I try not to think about that time, you know? I like to just live for today.” He gestured toward the lake. “That’s my religion now.”

Living for today or running from the past?

I said, “Is your mother still there?”

“No, she died before I left.” When he ran his hand through his hair, his sweater gaped at his forearm, showing a crescent-shaped scar. He caught my stare and quickly pulled his arm back down, watching me now, the smile gone, like he was waiting for me to make a comment. I thought of Mary. Had his scar also been a punishment? This time no memories came back, but still the feeling of unease.

I said, “Your scar. Did you get that in the commune?”

He laughed. “Nah, just drunk and stupid on the boat one night.” He laughed again, but something didn’t feel genuine. Before I could put my finger on the reason or ask for details, he changed the subject. “So why you want to know about the commune? You writing a book or something?”

He said it like a joke, but again I had a feeling he might’ve talked to the girl at the museum, and now he was trying to find out what I was up to.

I decided to go with the straight approach, maybe shock him into answering truthfully. “For years I’ve suffered from claustrophobia and memory loss.” I explained about psychogenic amnesia, leaving out Heather and just saying that a recent event had triggered memories of being sexually abused. “I’ve been trying to find people who used to live in the commune, to see if there could be more victims.” I also decided to keep Tammy and Mary to myself for now.

He sat back in his chair, his face a portrait of shocked dismay. “No shit , oh crap, jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes seemed honest, but the way he said, “Man, that’s terrible,” like he was trying to convince me he was upset, had me wondering. He added, “What’s it called again? Memory suppression?”

I nodded. “That’s right.”

“And they just come back on their own?”

“Some. Some of them I have to focus on.”

“Isn’t that stuff kind of hard to prove in court?”

“Yes, well, that’s why I’m trying to find possible witnesses.”

He said, “Wish I could help. I remember you spending a lot of time with Aaron. You guys were always down at the river, but I never saw anything, you know?” His expression was one of disappointment, his tone saying, Sorry I can’t help more. Still, I thought about how the courts would look at those facts, how they would look to anyone else. He was a nice man, just trying to teach her to swim. She’s making it all up.