My hands start to shake as I use my finger to trace the words on the article Margot hands me.

Serenity Erin Haugen

Beloved daughter and sister

Taken from us too soon

Next to the solemn words is a picture of a girl who looks very much like a younger version of the woman in my cabin.  However, when I look closely, I can see a few differences.  The hair is a little lighter.  The face has decidedly more freckles, and the nose is more bulbous on the end.  Below the line about where the services were to be held, there’s a copy of an accident report regarding a fifteen-year-old girl crossing the street and a fatal collision with a delivery truck.

“I don’t understand,” I say softly.  I shake my head and push the paper away.  “This doesn’t make sense.  Iris is the one who—”

Margot reaches across the table as the words catch in my throat.

“Iris Haugen McGuire is not dead,” Margot says succinctly.  “Her sister, Serenity Haugen, died in a car accident more than ten years ago when Iris was seventeen.”

The words sink in, but I can’t wrap my head around them.  None of this fits with the information I already have—information I’d already deemed correct.  I’d come to the conclusion that Seri was the first and dominant personality, leaving Netti and Iris as secondary, appearing after Iris was killed.  Though I had dozens of unanswered questions, I had assumed I knew some answers, at least.  Now I know none of those so-called facts are true.  Now I know that I know nothing.

Iris is alive.

Seri is dead.

My head continues to spin.

“Who’s in my cabin?”  My voice sounds hoarse.

“I don’t know,” Margot says quietly.  “I can only assume it’s Iris.  I’m pretty certain it’s not Serenity.”

All I can do is shake my head as I stare at the pages in front of me.  I simply can’t comprehend this new barrage of information.  It seems that in truth, I have never met Serenity, but I feel as if she has just died in my arms.

“Bishop, I think this might be a good time to admit that you have fallen into deep, cold water.  There’s no shame in hauling yourself out and going home.  No one is expecting you to swim in it.”

“I don’t even know what the hell that means.”  I rub my fingers into my eyes, trying to rid myself of the pressure behind them, but it doesn’t work.

“It means that you don’t really know this woman.  You don’t know who she is or what kind of game she is playing.  Maybe you need to admit that, and just get yourself out of it.”

“I can’t just kick her out in the snow.”  My voice cracks as I even consider such an action.  If I did, she would have nowhere to go and no one to turn to.  I told her—I told all of them—to stay with me.  I want them to stay.

“No, but you can drive her to Yellowknife, and give her money for a bus ticket.”

“I…I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”  Margot leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Because I don’t want to!” I scream.  The pressure behind my eyes is too much, and I feel tears escape and run down my cheeks.

“Bishop!”  Margot jumps at the sound of my voice, and her eyes go wide as she reaches for me.

I lean back in my chair and cover my face with my hands, quickly wiping the tears away.  I stare off to one side and take a deep breath as I try to clear my head.  The woman I know as Seri isn’t really dead.  She’s in my cabin, likely playing with the cat.

The thought doesn’t bring me much comfort.

I glance at Margot and then away again.  I’ve never been good at sorting out my emotions.  I’m sure if I had ever actually opened up to a shrink, the good doctor would say my abusive past stunted my ability to express myself, but I’ve always believed I just wasn’t capable of certain emotions.  Now that I’m experiencing them, I don’t know what to do.

 “I’ve never seen you like this,” Margot says, bringing me out of my thoughts.  “This woman has really gotten to you.”

I don’t answer.  My chest and throat are still tight, and I don’t think I can get a word out even if I did have something to say.

“You want to help her,” Margot says.

I nod.

“Do you feel like you are obligated just because you saved her from the storm?”

“No.”  I swallow hard.  “It’s not that.  She’s just…just different.”

“Well, that’s clearly true.”  Margot’s biting tone isn’t lost on me.

“That’s not what I mean.”  I give Margot a hard look.  “It’s not just her; it’s me too.  I’m different when I’m with her.”

“How so?”

I close my eyes and try to find the words while simultaneously trying to ignore the awkwardness of this whole conversation.  I shouldn’t be discussing any of this with my ex, but I don’t have much of a choice.  I try to come up with something that will at least make sense to her.

“I was empty before.”  I inhale deeply and then stare straight into Margot’s dark eyes and tap my temple with two fingers.  “I had a lot of shit up here”—I move my fingers to my chest—“but nothing in here.”

I watch Margot’s face as she closes her eyes and nods slightly.  This information isn’t news to her.

“She's changed that.”

“Yeah.  She has.”

I watch as Margot turns away for a moment.  Her throat bobs as she swallows, trying to hold in her emotions, but I see them all.  Anger, sadness, and jealousy all cross her face as I sit, unable to offer any consolation.  I should feel bad about doing this to her, but I can’t.  Sometimes I think that I’m just not capable of relating to people on an emotional level.

“How?” she asks in a surprisingly calm tone.

“I don’t know,” I tell her.  “In the beginning, it was the same.”

“The same as what?”

“The same as it was with you—as it’s always been with anyone I meet.  All I could think about was getting away from her, but I couldn’t.  With the storm, there was nowhere to go.  After a while, it was different.  It was…fuck, I don’t know.  I can’t put any of this into words.”

“You became comfortable with her in a way you never could with me.”

I glance up at Margot, expecting to see anger on her face, but there is none.  I nod slowly.

“This is very new for you, isn’t it?” she says.

“Yes,” I reply.  “And I’m not about to let that guy take her away from me.”

“I can see that.”  Margot gives me a tight-lipped smile.  “I’m happy for you, Bishop.  I really am.  I’m sad as well because this is what I wanted to see from you when we were together, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorry.”  I don’t know what else I can say.

“You don’t need to be, but I appreciate the sentiment.”  She stands up and sighs.  “I need to finish up.  The team will be here soon.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, glad for the change of topic.  “Gotta be ready for the tournament.”

“I think we have a decent chance of placing this year,” she says.  “Do you want to stay?  You’re always welcome on my team.”

I stare at the woman who took me in when I had nowhere to go and consider everything she’s done for me.  I’ve hurt her more than once and seem to be pretty good at continuing to hurt her, yet she keeps allowing me to be involved in her life.  She has always been a genuinely good person.

Maybe that was part of the problem between us.  I never deserved Margot, and I knew it.

 “Nice of you to offer, but you know I suck at it.”  I give her a half smile.  “All that waving around—I just kept dropping the coin.”

“You were always entertaining as a dancer when the drums played.”  Margot tries to keep a straight face, but she can’t.  I know she’s remembering the first time she took me to a drum dance and how I managed to fall on my face, trying to keep up with everyone.  She smiles broadly, and for a brief moment, I miss being with her.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

“You always tried hard, Bishop,” she says as she leans down and reaches across the table, placing her hand over mine.  “That’s what I liked about you.  Even though you didn’t like being around so many people, you still tried.  I know you did it for me even if you don’t want to admit it.”

I stare at our hands, not knowing what I should say.  Maybe I did try for her.  Maybe if I had tried harder, things would have been different.  I don’t know.  I don’t think it matters now.

“I think that’s why you won’t let go of this,” Margot says, still holding onto my hand.  “You don’t like to give up.  If this woman really means something to you, then you have my support.”

“Thank you.”  I don’t know what else to say.

Margot releases my hand and stands up straight.  She glances at the door as a couple of people enter the lodge.

“Do you mind if I sit here for a bit?” I ask, tapping the articles on the table.

“You’re fine,” she says.  “I’ll need the table eventually, but you have some time.”

“Can I borrow some paper and a pen?”

“Sure.”  Margot grabs the items from the office and gives them to me.

“Cool.”  I give her a smile as she walks away from me.

I stare at the blank page for a moment, wondering how to begin.  Finally, I write the word “timeline” at the top.  When I still can’t figure out how to start, I decide to make a note at the bottom of the page with the information I know to be true.  I hesitate, not knowing what name to put down and not wanting to write down all three.  I finally decide to just write “she” and move on from there.

She gets dumped on the road, and I find her.

Okay, there’s my end point.  With a few words finally on the page, the task feels less intimidating.  I sit for thirty minutes, writing down everything I know.  When I’m done, I sit back and read it through.

The Haugens have two daughters.

Seri is killed by a truck when Iris is 17 (ten years ago).

Iris gets involved with Kyle.

Iris is thrown off a bridge.

She moves to Montana.

Over three months, she travels from Montana to Calgary to Fort Providence to Whatì.

I meet her at Broken Toy’s.

She gets dumped on the road, and I find her.

Though there are some huge gaps, I feel like what I have is fairly accurate.  I have no idea how long Iris stayed with Kyle, the date they were married in Vegas, or when he tried to kill her.  I stare at the page, take a deep breath, and write two more lines to the right side of the list.

When did Netti appear?

Why did Iris become Seri?

What happened to Iris’s parents?

I also add question marks next to the line about Iris being thrown from bridge.  I can’t imagine that actually happened if there is no report of it at all.  Iris’s account was so vivid, but now I have my doubts about all of it.

The key to all of this is Netti—I’m sure of that.  I have to have a long, difficult sit-down with her to get some straight answers.  She’s been deceptive with me before, but the articles may help with getting the truth out of her.

I have no idea how I’m going to deal with Seri and Iris at this point.  I have to talk to Netti first.

“Are you about done?” Margot asks.  “I hate to kick you out, but…”

“That’s all right.”  I pick up the papers as I stand.  “Do you mind if I hang onto these?”

“Not at all.  I’ll see if I can find anything else, but I was pretty thorough the first time.”

“Thanks.”  I hand Margot her pen and head toward the door for my parka.  “I need to get back.”

“Will you be all right?” she asks as she follows me to the exit.

“I don’t know,” I tell her.  “I’m not even sure where to start.  I need to talk to all of them, but the one I need to talk to the most…well, she’s hard to reach sometimes.”

Margot lets her breath out in a huff.

“This is a lot to take in, Bishop.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Are you sure you need to be in the middle of it all?”

“I think I am, like it or not.” I put on my parka and shove the papers into the pocket.

“At some point, I’m going to have to meet this woman,” Margot says, “or should I say ‘women’?  I’m honestly not sure what the proper term is.”

“You’re asking me?”  I chuckle.  “You’re the one who went to college.”

“I don’t think this was covered in any of my classes.”  She smiles for a moment and then furrows her brow.  “What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”  I shrug.  “Try to get to the truth of it all, I guess.”

“Good luck with that.”

Margot turns to head back to the main part of the lodge, but I reach out and grab her arm to stop her.

“Margot?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”  I have to clear my throat to keep going.  “I’m sorry about the way things were between us.  You didn’t deserve any of that.  I’m sorry I wasn’t…that I couldn’t be better for you.”

Margot presses her lips together for a second, and I’m pretty sure there are tears in her eyes as she steps up close to me and wraps her arms around my neck for a brief hug.

“Thank you, Bishop.  That means a lot to me.”