Tanner Duskin, brother.
Tobias Duskin was my father’s brother and my uncle, older than him by two years, according to his birthdate listed on the form. Why don’t I remember my parents ever mentioning the existence of an uncle? As far as I know, we don’t have any living relatives, my parents supposedly both being only children, and their parents passing on before I was born. At least they didn’t lie about the death of my grandparents, according to this paperwork, but why would they never tell me that I had an uncle? Butterflies flap around in my stomach when it occurs to me that I have an uncle whose name begins with the letter T. The letter that Beatrice was so adamant I remember and one more person to add to my list, even though I didn’t even realize he existed until just now.
Flipping through the few pages in the file, I find a couple of handwritten reports from doctors, guards, and the wardens before my father’s time, quickly understanding why my parents thought it was best to keep Tobias Duskin’s identity a secret, even if my mother felt the need to cryptically point me in the direction of this file right before she died. I’m not going to lie. Reading about this long-lost uncle, I suddenly feel like the disturbing thoughts I have and the urges I fantasize about in order to feel exhilarated and alive make a little more sense now, and I might have just found a reason for my behavior. It appears this type of thing runs in the family, although my uncle seems to have taken his urges to the next level, while I make sure mine remain only in my head.
Arrested at the age of eighteen for the brutal slaying of both his parents with a hammer while they slept peacefully in their beds, then going on to murder three more innocent bystanders on his way out of town, Tobias Duskin confessed to the murders and was immediately sentenced to life in prison. He wasn’t exactly a model prisoner, according to his record, constantly starting fights and spending the majority of his time in solitary confinement, even killing three other prisoners while he was in here.
When this placed closed a few years after I was born, all 1,900 prisoners were bused to various prisons, some to the new one built just an hour away from here, and others to ones in bordering states. Assuming my uncle was moved with everyone else when the doors closed, I get to the final page of the file that lists the date of his transfer and start to get an uneasy feeling as I think about everything I’ve learned so far about myself, my life, and that of my parents and their behavior with me and with each other.
I think about the things my mother rambled about, her sins and weaknesses, and how she made a mistake, and everyone suffered because of it. One of the things she said sticks out in my mind, and I can hear her pained voice in my head as she pleaded with me.
“You need to find him. You need to talk to him. You’ll see him, and you’ll understand. It will all make sense then.”
I’ve been assuming she was referring to Dr. Thomas. It’s the only thing that made sense since she went off the deep end only hours after Dr. Beall told me about him.
Everything clicks together in my mind, and I’m surprised it never occurred to me before now. The distance between my father and I, and the feelings I’ve had that he’s never really loved me and even seems to hate the very sight of me. How I don’t remember a happy childhood and all of the sweet family photos that look fake and forced. Memories of being somewhere other than here, filled with misery and pain, and the suitcase in the spare bedroom filled with my clothes. The dreams and memories of staying in that room and at some point, coming back and being reminded by Ike of the rules around the house, like I was a guest.
I’m pretty sure this file proves there’s a reason my father doesn’t like me and a reason for my parents’ strained relationship, probably going on for much longer than after my accident. Most likely for eighteen years.
Dated exactly nine months before I was born, I reread the reason for the transfer request written in my father’s handwriting, read it out loud in the quiet room, just so I can hear myself say it to make sure it’s real and I’m not seeing things.
“I, Tanner Duskin, warden of Gallow’s Hill, hereby request a transfer of prisoner A45295, Tobias A. Duskin, for bribing and threatening two Gallow’s Hill guards in order to receive special treatment of unauthorized time away from his cell, occurring during nighttime lockdown several times a month and continuing for six months. During this time, Tobias Duskin privately met with Mrs. Claudia Duskin.”