We’re on a high floor, and have a big floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the edge of the Falls, and Emily can’t pull herself away from the window. She’s standing with her forehead pressed against it, staring at the plummeting water.
How long is she going to stand like that for?
“I can’t believe how awesome this is,” she says, her breath fogging the window.
“So you keep saying,” I say, flipping through channels. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Canadian TV, I barely remember it.
“I can’t believe you grew up, with this in your town.”
“Yeah, I was more interested in the fun houses on Clifton Hill.”
“Huh?” She doesn’t look away from the window.
“All the touristy shit. Like Ripley’s.”
“I don’t know how you bothered with stuff like that when you had this.”
“This isn’t the most impressive. If the visa takes longer, we’ll be here in January. That’s when it’s most amazing, when there are big chunks of ice and stuff in the river.”
A shiver runs across her shoulders, and she says, “Sounds cold.”
“Fucking cold. Hopefully the visa comes before Christmas so we don’t need to buy parkas and snow boots. But if we do, you’ll really never move away from the window.”
Emily doesn’t respond, instead she resumes her trance. I keep flipping through the channels, stopping only to watch the commercials and news updates so I can hear the accent.
Without moving her head, she says, “We should find your mother while we’re here.”
“No, we most definitely should not,” I say.
“Of course we should, the baby has a right to know her.”
I lose interest in the tv real fast, and turn it off. Silence fills the room, and I let it hang there while I choose my words.
“No,” I say.
“Are you ever going to tell me why not? I know you lived with a foster family, but it doesn’t sound like for very long, from what you’ve told me before. Were there other foster families?”
“Nope,” I say, my voice quieter this time. I want her to drop the subject. Even though I know it’s going to keep coming up.
“Why do you keep hiding stuff from me? You wouldn’t tell me where you were from, that you weren’t even American. You won’t tell me anything about your mother, or your childhood. I need something, because right now, it feels like you’re keeping secrets from me.” Emily’s eyes stay fixed on the water as she speaks, but her words are strong.
“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t like to think about it. She was an alcoholic and an addict, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” I snap.
Emily flinches, and her eyes close but she still doesn’t move from the window.
She swallows, and with her eyes closed says, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, just drop it.”
I pick up the remote to turn the TV back on, when she opens her eyes and spins to face me.
“Why don’t you trust me enough to tell me these things?” she asks, her eyes burning into me.
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it is, or you wouldn’t keep hiding things from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Your past? You’re not hiding that? Because if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. Because I’d know what it was.”
The heat and intensity of her eyes weigh down on me. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring her to Niagara Falls, it’s got her thinking too much. In North Carolina, it was out of sight, out of mind. She didn’t have much reason to think about my past.
Unlike now, standing there, wondering what it was like to grow up with the Falls at the end of the street.
“Fine, you want to know so bad. She had a revolving door of abusive men in her life, she finally married the worst one of all. And one day I realized I’d grown, and was bigger than him. So the next time he hit her, I beat the fucking shit out of him.”
“You beat him up,” she states, staring down at me, her eyes narrowed.
“Pulverized him. He was in the hospital forever.”
“Did you get in trouble with the police?”
“Of course. Spent the next three years in juvie.”
“But… you were defending your mother.”
“She testified against me at the trial. Said I was the threat in the house, not her dickhead husband, and that I’d done it before. When I got out, I lived with the foster family because she was still married to him,” Anger seethes in my voice at the memory.
“Were you the threat in the house? Did you do it before?”