Vanishing Act

The pair occupying the table at the corner, right by the window, could hardly be more contrasting: she, no older than twenty-five, look decidedly down on her luck. He, sitting on the opposite chair, was smartly dressed, and perfectly capable of turning heads even now, at nearly sixty.

Anisa had stopped caring for manners some time ago: she shoved chunk after chunk of steak into her mouth like a squirrel preparing for winter. Her father looked on with a warm smile, and kept his peace until she was finished.

"How long have you been living like this?"

"Too long." Anisa waved dismissively. "It's okay, though. I have the shelter now."

"And before that?"

She shrugged, her mouth stuffed with fries. "I've managed."

His reply was cut short as a meticulously manicured man approached the table. "Doctor Harding, a pleasure as always to see you around here. Are you finding everything to your liking?"

"Yes," the older man said with his characteristically charming smile. "Impeccable service as always, Charlie. Thank you."

The manager bowed deeply. "Will you and your companion require anything else?"

"Two slices of apple pie. Two scoops of ice cream on each. And my usual brandy and cigar."

"Right away, doctor."

After the manager departed, Doctor Harding shook his head at Anisa. "This is no way of living."

"I'm okay. It will get better soon enough."

"Anisa, please."

Next thing she knew, his hand had fallen upon hers, making her fingers curl.

"I know we have a troubled past. If I could, I'd change everything that happened, but I can't. We only have the present. For the love of God, let me help you. Please."

Anisa had fallen silent, slowly chewing. Her father smiled and patted her hand.

"I'll be at the shelter at 6 PM."

Anisa didn't reply. She busied herself with her pie and ice cream, while Doctor Harding talked on his cellphone about postponing this and that appointment of the day.

#

Standing at the sidewalk, Anisa waved as her father's black Jaguar departed. Burying her hands into the pockets of her ratty jacket, she turned her head upwards, but not even then did the midday sun preserve her cheeks from the bite of the chilling wind.

A few minutes later, she was arriving at the park. Soon she was stepping off the concrete walkway, as a thin sheen of ice threatened to make her slip more than once. A flock of geese landed not far from her, forcing her to abruptly change her route.

The sight of a nearby bench made her shiver with the memory of many sleepless nights, and she suddenly became aware of the crunch of her steps as her dirty sneakers sank into the snow time and again. The laughs and calls of children drew her briefly to the frozen pond, but the sight of happy childhoods only added to the turmoil of her mind. Slowly, she turned away, and directed her steps towards the shelter.

#

The house was large, vaguely resembling hacienda style. The black Jaguar stopped before the automated door, which slowly granted him passage with a mechanical whir.

A minute later, doctor Harding was inside, his steps echoing in the large foyer. A rather attractive woman who couldn't be much older than Anisa came down the stairs, and he smiled.

"I'm home."

She nodded with a smile of her own, easily stepping into his embrace. "How did it go?"

"Well enough," said the doctor after kissing her on the lips. "She might have trouble adjusting to the new reality, but I'm sure she'll eventually come around."

"Do you really think she'll accept me, darling?," she said, toying with one of his coat's buttons. "After what happened?"

The doctor smiled and kissed her lips again.

"You and I are married now. And furthermore, we're her only way out of the squalor she's living in now. She'll come around. She has to."

She smiled, and kissed him on the lips a third time.

#

Anisa's large, round, thin-rimmed glasses fogged up the moment she stepped into the shelter. Pulling her beanie hat off, she shook her head to free her strawberry blonde mane, and headed straight for her bunk. From a tote bag that she kept underneath, she pulled a beaten sketch pad, and a half-finished pencil. Flipping it open, she looked through the pages. There were faces, and buildings, and animals from the streets. There was even some wildlife, from the time she had been practicing off a natural history encyclopedia.

She lingered for a while on one of the portraits. Her eyes shut, she let her hand brush over the drawing. With a deep breath, she flipped through until she found a blank sheet, and her pencil started gliding.

#

A blizzard was starting when the black Jaguar pulled up in front of the shelter. A minute later, doctor Harding was stepping through the doors. He stopped momentarily, looking between repulsed and disoriented, and then walked resolutely towards an attendant.

"I'm here for Anisa. Can you tell me where she is?"

"Anisa?" The woman's air of confusion did not sit well with Doctor Harding.

"Yes, Anisa. I'm here to pick her up. Can you tell me where she is?"

"She... left earlier this afternoon. Said she had found other accommodations. Oh," she added, producing a folded paper from her pocket. "She said to hold this for... you, I think."

"For me?"

"Yes." The woman nodded. "She did not give me a name, but she did give me a description, and you fit that description pretty well." She smiled. "She's pretty good at describing things. Must come with being an artist."

Doctor Harding unfolded the paper. It was a pencil sketch, of a flower he recognized immediately: a chrysanthemum. Crumpling the paper, he tossed it to the ground before storming out.

At that very moment, several blocks away, Anisa was looking down with teary eyes, her feet half sunken in snow and the wind howling around her.

"I'm not going back to him. I can't. Not after what he did." Her voice started to break. "I have to go away so he won't find me again. So... this is good bye."

She advanced a couple steps and, kneeling down, she embraced the icy tombstone, her tear-stained cheek resting right on the chrysanthemum engraved above her mother's name.