A Great Deal Better

"You look so much like her. I think we can pull it off," Arlo insisted.

Lydian stared at the weathered black and white photo Arlo found tucked in the back pocket of the notebook he took from their elderly neighbor. The photo was of a young woman with a dark, curly bob and pale eyes reclining on a sofa. Lydian was struck by the way the woman stared at the camera, or rather through the camera, like she was gazing into the eyes of her lover.

"You're crazy," Lydian said.

"No, he's crazy and that's why this will work. You just need to go in there, grab the cartridge, and get out. He'll just think you're his wife from 70 years ago and not question it. If he tells anyone later, they'll just think it's one of his imaginary visitors. Besides, he won't even miss it. It was so dusty it hasn't been used in years. Probably their kid's or grandkid's or something. Easy peasy."

She thumbed through the small black notebook. "If you could take his journal, why couldn't you take the cartridge?"

"That's different. I was able to just slip it in my pocket when I was fixing his toilet. It was on the counter. The cartridge is right by his TV."

Lydian knew there was no point in arguing with Arlo as he would eventually wear her down until she complied. She gave up resisting years ago. He never hit her; he knew that would make his abuse obvious. His strategy was to inflict years of subtly distorted words on Lydian that slowly erased any sense of self-worth in her so that eventually he could get her to do or believe anything he wanted.

"I'll need to curl my hair."

The journal appeared to record the neighbor's early years of his marriage to a woman named Sophie, the woman whose name was scribbled on the back of the photograph.

August 17. Honeymoon at Timber Pines after gov't delay. All I can say. Sophie made porketta. Lasted all week. Caught 3 Northern and 1 Southern (wink, wink).

September 21. Lost Josephine. So tragic. Not fair. Got there too late. We were going to take care of everything, too. Such a shame. Sophie won't stop crying. I feel I've let her down. I've let everyone down, especially the baby.

May 14. Sophie's feeling a great deal better. Still misses her sister, but having a new home to decorate helps, apparently.

Lydian dug out her curling iron and set to work recreating the look in the photo. She only needed a few curls in the front as she planned to put the rest up in a scarf in a casual style popular to that era. She borrowed a pair of Arlo's jeans and rolled the cuffs. Her vintage loafers and snug cardigan completed the look.

As she walked to the neighbor's house, she lamented her life. Why was she doing this? Why is Arlo always putting her in these embarrassing situations? Will it ever end? She hoped she could just pop in, grab the cartridge, and get the eff out.

She knocked on the door.

"Hello? Mr. Jacobsen? May I come in?" Lydian called as she opened the front door. Her neighbor was seated in a recliner watching TV, just as Arlo said he would be. He glanced up at Lydian.

"Oh, hello," he said, turning off the TV. His eyes were fixed on her. "Are you ...?" he turned to the empty sofa next to him. "Sophie, is that Josie?"

He glanced back at Lydian. "My gosh, Josephine. The last time I saw you your wrists were slashed. You were dead. You look different. Less dead, but also different."

Lydian didn't know what to say. She just stared back at Mr. Jacobsen. This was not the interaction she was expecting.

"Oh, Sophie says you are not Josephine," Mr. Jacobsen continued after staring at the empty couch some more. "She says you have my diary. Why do you have my diary?"

Lydian patted the little black notebook in her back pocket. How did he know I brought it with me? She planned to just casually leave it behind.

She took it out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Sorry. My husband - the guy who fixed your toilet last week - he, uh ... accidentally put it in his toolbox. I am here to return it."

"Sophie says that's not all you're here for." He glanced toward the pile of old video game cartridges by the TV.

Lydian's heart beat faster. How does he know this? Who is he talking to? Her eyes spotted the dusty cartridge Arlo insisted she retrieve for him: Chrono Trigger.

"She says you want to take one of those games for your husband. Your husband is making you take it. Is that right?"

Lydian stammered.

"Oh, my." Mr. Jacobsen shook his head, still staring toward the sofa before addressing Lydian again. "Your husband sounds like a real piece of work. But don't worry, Sophie's got a plan."

Mr. Jacobsen got up from his chair and hobbled with his cane over to an old metal desk in the corner. He began rummaging through a drawer. "Are you sure?" he asked the same invisible person he had been communicating with. He landed upon something at the back of the drawer. "Well, I'll be. She's right as usual."

He started flipping through an old checkbook register. "We had put some money aside for Josie so she could go to Canada to have her baby, you know, discretely, and give it up for adoption. But before we could even tell her about the plan she was gone. And so was her baby."

"Who was the father?" Lydian asked but instantly regretted it. "Never mind. It's none of my business. I'm sorry I asked."

There was a tense silence as Mr. Jacobsen stared blankly. "I never knew back then. Josie said she wouldn't tell anyone. But Sophie says it was ...." he trailed off.

Lydian stood expectantly, not exactly sure why she wanted to know.

Mr. Jacobsen shook his head. "The pillar of the community, my ass. No wonder she couldn't tell anyone. No one would believe her. Such a shame."

He looked at Lydian. "The statue at the park of the town's so-called hero doctor. I heard people say he was a 'dirty old man', but I didn't realize how dirty. People are not always what they seem, are they?"

Lydian knew that to be true. Everyone regarded her husband highly, but they did not know his true self. Only Lydian witnessed his ugly side, which made it that much harder for her to bear.

Mr. Jacobsen started writing in the checkbook. "That much? It's grown that much? Wow. Ma'am, I'll need you to write your name on this check. Sophie says she doesn't think we should give you a blank check in case your husband finds it while you are packing."

"Excuse me?" Lydian said.

"Sophie says we should help you. She says the money we put aside for Josephine is still there, but it has grown over the decades and now should be enough to help you get out of your awful marriage and get somewhere safe."

He handed her the check. It was for $20,000. Lydian began trembling.

Mr. Jacobsen insisted she write her name on the check. Her handwriting was a bit wobbly, but she did it.

"Sophie says to take the game to your husband so he doesn't get suspicious. That will distract him while you pack. Make sure you hide the check. Then get out as soon as you can. Go to a shelter first where you'll be safe. They'll help you with all the legal stuff and help you get started on a new life. You got it?"

Lydian nodded, still trembling. She tucked the check in her back pocket and grabbed the game and headed toward the door before turning around.

"Thank you ... both," she said.

Mr. Jacobsen smiled, "I'm glad to finally help"