By any other name

The twenty thousand dollars felt lighter than it should have but she didn’t have time to check. Lily lengthened the strap on the duffle bag and pulled it over her head so it rested across her body. The handoff was clean. She’d taken the streetcar east on King, disembarked at Cherry street and walked south toward the Portlands. The Toronto winter of mid-January seemed to have flit right past zero and into frozen nostril territory overnight.

Lily figured that was why they’d picked the Portlands. Who the fuck would be out at the Portlands in the middle of a Polar Vortex?

She’d ordered a black mask off Amazon Prime to match her new, crisp all-black outfit. A kind of homage, she’d thought at the time, to the wannabe criminal that lay dormant inside her for years.

The walk had been short, uneventful. Cutting winter air greeted her more curtly the closer she made it to the water and, with the makeshift beach in sight, snowflakes began to fall.

She paused, glancing up and around her. Lily inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

She felt her lungs momentarily turn frigid and then soften. The stillness felt to her both haunting and like home.

Her left breast pocket buzzed. She let out a heavy, disgruntled sigh leavened only by the night sky quickly clouding overhead.

We can see you. The message read. A staccato prickle scurried up her spine.

Three dots appeared under the message. The blue-tinged light of the phone illuminated her face in the darkness.

Hurry up.

She heard her father’s voice say the words to her – terse, commanding. Lily stuffed the phone back into her coat and shuffled forward.

*

It had been tough those first few years in Canada. Like many other families they’d sought refuge in the arms of the equally bright and bitter North. Lily had been three days shy of her tenth birthday when her father entered the front door of their impossibly tiny flat with an announcement.

“We’re going.”

Lily looked up from the worn copy of Alice in Wonderland she carried with her everywhere. First peering at her father and then at her mother who knitted a deep magenta-coloured sweater next to her on the couch. She waited.

“Going?” her mother replied.

“Yes, two small bags, that’s it. Pack them and let’s be off.”

Her mother exhaled loudly, shoved the knitting aside, and leapt from the couch.

“C’mon Lily, quickly now.”

*

The crunch of the snow under Lily’s footsteps reminded her of Froot Loops, sharp, loud and sweet. She wondered if the sand was frozen underneath her, if only she had the time to dig and find out.

Quickly she approached the patio-like setup of the frozen beachfront – plastic Muskoka chairs of pink and blue shone from under the falling snow highlighting the icicles dancing along their edges. She found her chair, marked by a plaid red and taupe scarf.

She could hear ice cracking not far from where she stood and the subtle hum of cars too but there were no footprints in the snow, no other sounds she could make out. Lily lowered herself into the scarf-marked chair, her butt scooted to the very edge and she planted her feet firmly into the ground.

Her body was unnaturally still. She imagined being able to turn her head nearly 360 degrees like an owl to observe her surroundings. But the instructions, though sparse, had been clear.

Find the chair. Sit. Don’t move.

They were obviously not a chatty bunch.

*

On the plane, her father to her left and mother on her right, Lily sat speechless and scared. The metal interior was grey and unwelcoming, a cage fit for animals. She would later learn that was exactly as her countrymen had seen her family.

It was nothing like the adverts. No luxury of experience or perfectly coiffed stewardesses to bring her cocoa and walk with her hand-in-hand to and from the lavatory. As the cage began to rattle and convulse, her father took out a string of wooden beads and counted them with this thumb. His gaze was fixed to the back of the seat in front of him, his lips moving but with no audible sound coming out.

Lily tugged at the sleeve of his peacoat but was pulled away by her mother.

“Leave him,” she whispered and took her daughter’s bony hand in her own. “Close your eyes my sweet pea, it will all be over soon.”

Lily didn’t understand what would be over. Or where they were going. But she obliged. With eyes shut vice-like, the rattle of the plane grew louder and unbearable. She squeezed her mother’s hand harder. There were shuffles of nervous feet, whimpers from the mouths around her. And then, without warning, the cage hinged up and forward cutting through the sky and barreling them toward some place called refuge.

*

Fidgeting was a sign of weakness. She learned that early and often. “One who fidgets is simply one who has no sense of purpose,” her father would recite. Had he read that in a book? In spite of herself she wished that he was there with her. Breathing gently by her side, reassuring her with his presence.

“The scout said you’d be taller,” a monotone voice appeared behind her pulling the emergency brake on her thoughts.

Still, Lily remained motionless.

They let out a low, one-syllable chuckle. “Ok, permission granted to move,” the voice sounded sarcastic, but also joyful.

Slowly, Lily rose and turned on her heel to face the figure. They were a few inches taller than her, but she couldn’t tell if they were slim or muscular, lithe or beastly. Their coat somehow still appeared two sizes too big, a puffer jacket in bright red with a black hoodie pulled overhead and matching black pants and boots. On their face mask was a cartoon Micky Mouse.

They cocked their head slightly to the side, “Fine, one question. Hurry up and ask it.”

But Lily’s mind was unusually blank as she drank up this person in front of her, who seemed more like a shadow than a living being.

“Where’s the money?”

“Good choice,” they replied.

*

For almost a year, they lived with another family. The kind of family that could’ve been on the cover of a Sears catalogue. White, beautiful, with fine jewelry and great teeth. Lily would ask them incessantly about how they got their teeth to look so perfect; the allure of modern, western dentistry followed her through to adulthood.

Above all else, their house was magnificent, nicer than any place Lily had ever visited. The floors were shiny and clean, wooden furniture pristine, and the doors didn’t creak on their hinges when opened. She and her parents shared a room at the front of the house overlooking the driveway. One bed for her parents and a small cot for herself. The family had bought them each a comforter and even gave Lily a teddy bear to cuddle at night.

On their second night there, as her father wrote once again in his small black notebook, she sat up in her cot and asked, “How come these people are so nice to us?”

He stopped, peering down at the pencil he’d worn down to a stub, and turned to face his daughter.

“In this world, Lily, some people are nice, and some people aren’t. It’s not always easy to explain or even easy to understand. We must be grateful for their generosity. For them opening their home to us. This is God’s will. His way of protecting us.”

Lily nodded wanting her father to believe she understood, but his words fell convoluted on her ears. After all, wasn’t it her family who were considered bad people back home?

*

A second person appeared next to the first as if magicked out of the snow. This one was shorter and very obviously slight in frame, nothing a strong gust of wind couldn’t take care of. In their left hand, they clutched a bag perhaps with too much caution and intent.

“You see? Your money is right here,” their hand gesturing to their right, “and where is our package?”

Lily unzipped her jacket and pulled out a package wrapped in matte gold paper the size of a necklace jewelry box. The wrapping was pristine, there wasn’t a single piece of visible tape or even a discernible edge. She outstretched her arm and handed the box to the odd couple.

The smaller of the two stepped forward but the other’s arm launched forward and in front of their body. Their excitement seemed pronounced; perhaps this package was for one of their own. They considered it closely. The night had begun to brighten around them, the sky a smooth grey-white sending snowflake reflections bouncing around them.

“This is it?”

Lily shrugged.

“Don’t mess with me. Not now, not like this.”

Lily’s jaw stiffened and she nodded fervently. “That is what they gave me. Like you asked, all the paperwork you’ll need. Passport, ID, the works. A fresh start for…. Who is it for again?”

Their eyes were small and dark, scanning her for deceit.

“Yes, well, I cannot say. Give her the money.”

The duffle was swiftly dropped on the pink chair sending a handful of icicles to the ground. Without another word the disproportionately matched pairing turned and walked silently and softly away.

*

Her family had a sort of normal life though her father never shed the habit of looking behind him as he walked up the path of their house to their front door and her mother never had another child despite wanting a large family. They would live ‘through the motions’ she came to understand. Sometimes the cities would change and then so would their names. So many names, she couldn't remember them all now.

Lily had always been the fidgety one – in search of an answer to a question she didn’t know how to ask. She assimilated well to her parents’ surprise. Her accent faded with time and she accepted that her olive skin was a fashion statement white women sought after and mimicked. Lily learned to be quiet when it mattered and desirable when threatened. Both served her well for many years.

*

Lily tossed the duffle into the closet hallway of her apartment where it sat haphazardly upon a small mound of others like it. Her phone buzzed with a text that contained a single thumbs up emoji. She nodded imperceptibly to herself. Good. Another one complete.

She pressed down and held the three buttons on the side of her phone until the screen went black. Ten seconds letter it illuminated once more and greeted her with a message:

WELCOME PETUNIA. YOUR NEW NUMBER IS 416-555-8772.