text: The Runner Jessica drapes the new scarf around her mother's shoulders and notices the slight twitches at her mouth corners suggesting a smile. The only time her mother's eyes light up nowadays is when she sees the porter, Charles, who often stops by her for a friendly chat. He also doesn't seem to mind that she calls him Steven. A car accident, just over a year ago, left her mom with seemingly permanent memory loss and claimed her father's life. Jessica's weekly visits to the care facility often serve as a reminder of how little she knows about Victoria Harvey. With a gentle shake of her head, she tries to free herself from the pangs of guilt for not trying harder to get to know her while the opportunity was still there. Victoria was not a bad mother. As an only child, Jessé was always well taken care of. She never lacked anything and she was not mistreated. According to modern-day parenting standards, one might say she was emotionally neglected. Victoria was never a talker or an exhibitor of emotions. Jessé often thought of her mom as the keeper of family logistics; the person who ensured that everything was in place and operated smoothly. In addition to organising family life, Victoria also worked as a part-time bookkeeper for a small firm. Jessica bends forward to plant a kiss on her mom's cheek as she gets ready to leave. She takes one last look at the woman who always had it all together, but whom she never really got to know. Home is a modern and spacious city bowl apartment. Inside awaits boxes to be packed for their emigration. Her fiance, Neil, got a once-in-a-lifetime engineering job in New Zealand. They will be joining some of their friends there in less than two weeks. Neil greets her with a takeout dinner as she enters. They ate quickly, as their minds were eager to return to unfinished tasks: Neil had some emigration paperwork and Jessé resumed her photo editing for a client. Against all odds, she did pursue a creative career, despite her mom's efforts to talk her into a BCom degree course. Jessé was hesitant to leave her mom behind, but Neil felt strongly that his opportunity was too big to negotiate. Besides, Jessé can practice photography anywhere in the world and they can visit her mother annually. He spoke about getting married at a Prestigious Hotel not far from where he will be working. It felt strange to see him so passionate and excited. Not many things could excite him, as he was usually rather reserved. A good guy. Steady. Level headed. Marriage material as they would say. But to be honest, she's been feeling detached and bored lately. She is twenty-four. Is she ready for this level of boredom and commitment? Going to New Zealand to say "I do" amongst white satin, diamantés and roses? Does he know she would prefer cotton, eucalyptus twigs and a bonfire? He never really asked either. She plonked on the floor in her small study. Tonight the creativity doesn't want to flow. She is not doing her best work. The coffee Neil brought her earlier tastes lukewarm. The thought of how it resembles her current perception of their relationship made her choke. "You ok?" a worried Neil asks from the living room. Reliable Neil. Always have her back. Her eyes fall on a box containing some unsorted items belonging to her mom. She starts unpacking. Two handbags, sandals, a hat, recipe books, more books, office stationery, a few small picture frames with family photos including one of her dad, greeting cards and an aged envelope addressed to "Victoria" in fancy bold curly letters. Inside she finds a photograph taken of a painting against a wall. The painting depicts a person in mid-stride, running away from the viewer. The person is visible through a window, which dominates the foreground of the piece. Jessica feels as if she is a secondary viewer to a very significant event. The work evokes poignant feelings of abandonment, sorrow, bereavement and evasiveness. In the corner the painting is signed, T. Ori. The postal stamp dates back to March 1995. On the back of the photograph, in the same flamboyant handwriting, there is an intimate greeting, "Love always, Steven." Her parents were married already in 1995, although she only arrived five years later. The painting in the photograph is dominating Jessé's mind the entire night. Tomorrow she needs to find some answers. Who is this Steven? A name so significant it is more retrievable from Victoria's deficient memory than the name of her daughter. With Neil off to the office early the next morning to help wrap up some last-minute tasks at his current workplace, Jessie can start her search. It is no surprise that an internet search does not produce anything about a Steven or a T. Ori artist, considering it most likely involves small-town people during a time of limited internet exposure. Within moments her mind was made up and she packed an overnight bag while declining a call from her client. A phone call she couldn't elude was to inform Neil about her seemingly erratic decision. She waited until she left the city and was well away on the open road. Neil seldom got upset. Today he did. In the four years they have been together he never shouted at her. She can't blame him. Less than two weeks before they leave the country she randomly gets in her car without even saying goodbye, leaving him behind with all the arrangements. Her inadequate attempt to explain leads to the inevitable question of whether she is even serious enough about their relationship to go with him. She thought she was. Is this obsession about finding answers relating to her mother's past her subconscious trying to interfere? She decided against that theory. A single day is all she is prepared to dedicate to this mission, then she will be back with Neil to assist him. The open road feels good as she makes space for nostalgia and childhood memories along the way. The town is very much unchanged since her last visit three years ago. Her initial plan is to enquire at the local media centre, which has been home to the local newspaper since the seventies. Perhaps Steven or T. Ori was sufficiently newsworthy for a small town. The young girl at the media centre seems willing to help. Apparently, it is quite a frequent occurrence for those delving into the past to visit them. The search was fruitful. No articles about an artist by the name of Steven were found, but there were three front-page articles during 1995 about a scandalous art dealer by that name. Steven Sinclair, under the camouflage of a low-key small-town art dealer, had a more brilliant main interest: illegal diamond trading. Halfway through the article, a name very familiar to her jumped at her. "John Harvey, local art curator and gallery owner, laid charges of theft against Steven Sinclair for disappearing with a painting titled "The Runner" by the award-winning artist known as Tori, also the wife of John Harvey. Could this be a misprint? Her father the art curator. Her mother the artist. Not T.Ori, but Tori, which is short for Victoria. Who are these people she was raised by? As far as she remembers, her father was a science teacher with a love for woodwork. His project collection did include some impressive carve work. Jesse's head is spinning. She can faintly hear the assistant offering her some water. She hoped she declined politely as she found herself already outside halfway to her car. If there was a criminal charge, she needs a cop friend now more than ever. A feeling of hopelessness washes over her as she approaches the middle-aged guy who seems irritated by her request. Despite his reluctance, he manages a polite "evening mam." For the first time, she thinks about the time and realises it is past six in the evening. She still needs to book in at the local hotel. The officer must be at the end of his shift. How on earth is she going to get any help from him? "Mam, I mean no disrespect, but if you are not in danger, or have no criminal activities to report, I would prefer to wrap up my shift and get home." Her despondence is short-lived as a friendly voice fills the room. "Jessica Harvey? Is that you?" Jessé looks up at the fresh-faced, rather attractive-looking man in uniform. Before she could place him, Officer Grumpy introduced him as Sargeant Zimmerman, the man taking over the next shift. Suddenly Officer Grumpy produced a smile which made his eyes disappear in his cheeks as he cheerfully announced his departure. Jessé remembers Harold Zimmerman. Harry. They went to school together. They were never close friends, but in a small town school, everyone is kind of friends at some point. The typical exchange of a quick catch-up happens between them. Harry is still in town, joined the cops, got dumped by his girlfriend recently, but enjoys the company of his Doberman. Jessé tells him about her search for answers. "It is your lucky night, as it is very quiet in town and I can do with an assignment to help me pass the time." He invites her through to a back office. "I'll get us some coffee," he says with the same enthusiasm she remembers him for from school days. His pen scribbles quickly in his notebook as he documents her story. His usually jovial face is now a landscape of focus and concentration. It takes a couple of phone calls to get information. Jessé is on her third cup of coffee when he finally declares there are some insights. There was indeed a theft charge made by John Harvey against Steven Sinclair for theft of the painting titled " The Runner" by Victoria, however, the case was withdrawn and marked closed shortly after. Harry's voice became even more serious as he dropped the news that Victoria Harvey was a police informant of intel in the alleged illegal diamond trade investigation against Steven. Unfortunately, those files are not accessible. It does seem however as if the painting titled "The Runner" got away and disappeared with Steven. Jesse remembers Harry as a bit of a joker. Her disbelief led her to the conclusion that he is seriously messing with her. She scrutinises his face for a glimpse of teasing, but is met with deadpan seriousness. For the second time today, Jesse feels faint. Her shock must be rather evident as Harry suggests he drives her to the hotel. Nothing at the hotel has changed. The accommodation is basic but neat. It does seem as if the decor got stuck in the eighties. Jesse checks her phone. Two missed calls from Neil. Poor Neil. He doesn't deserve this. She just doesn't have the emotional capacity to try and explain everything now. Before she thinks it through properly, she hears herself asking Harry to have a drink with her. Being alone with all this new information is not an appealing prospect. He looks a bit puzzled as he stands in her hotel room doorway. Jessé laughed embarrassed, "No, not here. The bar is open. I'm engaged, as you know." Harry looks more at ease. "I'll have coffee, on duty, you know." During the two hours that follow the two try to make sense of Victoria's story. Harry creatively contributes over caffeine while Jessé sips whiskey on the rocks. There is laughter and some tears. "She never painted again, you know," Jessé spoke softly into her glass. When the time came for Harry to go, Jesse was sad and drunk enough to place a kiss on his lips. A part of her wishes she was not engaged and free from knowing what she does now. -------‐------------------------------------- As she walked down the familiar corridor of the care centre everything felt different. The lens of knowledge gives a different perspective indeed. This time she is carrying a canvas, paints and brushes to her mother's room. Victoria's eyes light up similar to when she sees Charles. She gently starts touching and inspecting the brushes Jessé places in front of her. Victoria speaks while painting the canvas, "Steven came today. He came to say goodbye. I once hung a painting in his gallery to warn him. To tell him to run. There was no time to greet then." After a while, she puts her brush down and cups Jessé's face with both hands. "I have a beautiful daughter. She lives in New Zealand, you know. Please give this to her when you see her." Victoria passes the little canvas with a simple painting of a camera to Jessé. "Oh, and please tell her she must never stop what she is doing." At the apartment, Jessé waited for Neil with supper and wine. He looked tense and unsure of what to expect. "Am I still invited to join you in New Zealand?" Jessé asked. "Only if you really want to", Neil replied. "Only if we can get married in a forest," Jessé adds. Neil laughs and picks her up in his arms, “Do you want a drumming ceremony as well?" That makes Jessé squeal with laughter, "You DO know!" Neil shook his head, "No, I don't, but if you stop running, I promise to learn."