There was no doubt which of them was easier to get around.
I turned to him. I didn’t want to say anything wrong and make matters worse.
He stood quickly and gently took the tray from her. “You should rest, Keri,” he said. “You’ve been on heavy medication. Kaylee is still not here,” he added softly.
Her lips began to tremble, and then her shoulders shook as if she was crying inside and unable to shed a tear.
“Haylee!” he shouted, and I jumped up to take the tray from him so he could embrace Mother and keep her from sinking to the floor. He practically lifted her to guide her out of the kitchen and into the living room. I heard her tell him she didn’t want to go back to bed.
“Just lie on the sofa, then,” he said. “I’ll get you a pillow and a blanket.”
I dumped the cold eggs and the piece of toast into the garbage. Then I washed off her dish and coffee cup. She hadn’t touched her juice. I shrugged and drank it. I heard Daddy go up to get her the pillow and blanket, and then I finished my own eggs and gobbled down my toast and jam. The phone rang again. I imagined Daddy had answered upstairs, because it rang only once. There was no doubt that as the day went on, more of Mother’s friends would start to call, as well as Daddy’s. They might start coming to the house, too. If they did, they’d find me still in my pajamas no matter what time of day they arrived. They would see that I wasn’t thinking of anything or anyone else but Kaylee.
Actually, that really was what I was doing. I couldn’t help wondering exactly what had happened and how. It was intriguing, like watching a soap opera or something. What would happen tomorrow and the day after that? Would he ever realize she wasn’t me? I was sure she was denying it like crazy. More important, would he care? To him, the girl he had was the girl he had seen.
I tried to feel sorry for her. I really did. But all I could think was that I would never have to share anything again. Whenever she escaped or he let her go, she would be so different that no one, despite our physical resemblance, would ever think of us as the same. Even Mother would have to get used to that. Of course, Kaylee would blame me, but in the end, it would be my word against hers, wouldn’t it? I’d simply say she was trying to get out of being blamed for being so reckless and stupid. I’d cry about how she had often tried to blame me for things she had done. She’d often gotten away with it, hadn’t she? Mother would be confused, of course, and Daddy, well, Daddy would just be happy it was all off his shoulders.
Kaylee would hate me for a while, but eventually, she probably would forgive me. She was always like that, eager to stop us from being angry at each other. She couldn’t even stay angry at me when I had tricked her first real boyfriend into making love with me thinking I was her.
Of course, there was always the possibility that she would never return. So many abducted girls or girls who ran away were never found. Maybe if I began to tell the police how difficult our lives had been living under Mother’s rules for us, they would conclude that she really had run away. Many times, I’d almost done so myself. They’d tell each other that this girl didn’t want to be found. Why waste any more time on the case?
I had no doubt that Daddy would eventually accept that Kaylee was gone.
Meanwhile, I thought, the atmosphere here now was really not very different from what it would be after a funeral. The weather had changed since I had gotten up. More clouds had come sliding in on the edges of a coastal storm. The morning seemed especially to drape our house in a dismal gray, as if nature knew this was the place on which to rain depression. I practically tiptoed about the house.
The lights weren’t turned on in most of the rooms downstairs. The dining room looked dreary even with the curtains pulled wide open. Just as at a wake, we were all speaking very softly. Only the constant ringing of the phone broke the heavy silence. I shuffled back to the stairway. Daddy was sitting on the sofa at Mother’s feet now. She was under the blanket and still looked stunned. He glanced at me and shook his head. She was always too much for him, now more than ever. I pulled in my lips and fought back tears. He didn’t know whom to feel more sorry for, Mother or me.
As I walked up the stairs, I wondered how long I could be maudlin. It was one of the most difficult things for me to do deliberately, especially looking at myself in a mirror and seeing how tired I appeared, even a little pale. I looked hungrily at my lipstick and couldn’t help running my brush through my hair a little. I was so tempted to turn my cell phone on. I knew what I would eventually say, but it was too early for that, so I resisted.
I did brush my teeth, of course, and splashed my face with cold water. I thought about taking a shower and putting on some clothes, but I decided to wait, maybe for the whole day. When I heard Daddy coming up the stairs, I hurriedly went back to my bed and hugged the pillow, just the way Kaylee and I had hugged sometimes when we were little girls. Everyone had thought that was so cute. How devoted we were to each other, how inseparable, just the way Mother wanted us to be.
We were hugging different pillows now, I thought.
Daddy knocked and entered. “She’s not making any sense, Haylee. She’s blocking it all out of her mind. I’m going to look into the private nurse, but in the meantime, Dr. Bloom has recommended a psychiatric nurse who can help all of us.”
“Why all of us?”
“You don’t realize yet what a deep impact this is having on you. I know you’re putting on as brave a face as you can, but something like this has long-term effects, Haylee. We’ll all need some help.”
“I’m upset, but I’m not crazy, Daddy.”
“This person is more of a counselor than a psychiatrist. It’s recommended for families in this sort of a crisis. Besides, anything that will help us right now is welcome, don’t you think?”
I reluctantly nodded, but then I looked up at him quickly. “Maybe we should have done this long ago, Daddy.”
“Long ago?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t believe that Mother was a bit of a kook, especially when it came to Kaylee and me. In a way, she drove Kaylee to do something like this. She was desperate to be her own person. You saw it all. You were overwhelmed, too.”
He stood there looking at me and thinking.
I was ready to add, and you didn’t do anything to stop it, you ran away instead, but I didn’t have to say it. I could see he was thinking it and feeling guilty.
“It’s not going to serve any good purpose now to blame anyone for anything,” he said.
I hoped he didn’t see the smile I was unable to keep from pushing its way around my lips. “No, I guess not. I guess we shouldn’t blame each other for anything,” I said. “I hope this counselor or whatever he or she is doesn’t make us say things we will regret.”
“It’s a woman, Dr. Ross. I’m sure she knows enough not to do that.”
“Good. Every once in a while, I feel like screaming. I do scream, but into my pillow.” I turned and buried my face in it. I heard him come farther in and felt his hand on my shoulder.
“You’ve got to hold together, Haylee. I’m depending on you.”
I turned, the tears so well behaved on my cheeks, and reached up for him. He leaned down and hugged me, cherished me like he never had, and then kissed the top of my head before letting go and leaving my room.
He closed the door softly, as softly as an apology.
It will be easy to change when it’s the right time to change from the devastated, sorrowful sister to the daughter who has to be strong for her parents, especially her poor mother.
I leaped off my bed and threw open my closet to consider what I would wear when it was time to look stunning. I sifted through some things and for a few minutes didn’t realize I was humming one of my favorite new songs.
I slapped myself in the face. “Not yet, Haylee Blossom Fitzgerald. You’re still the devoted identical twin. And remember, what Kaylee suffers, you feel, too.”
For a moment, I paused to think about it. What if I really did feel h
er suffering? What if Mother had always been right about us?
Naw, I told myself.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little afraid.
8
Kaylee
I ate the oatmeal Anthony had made and drank some more water and a little coffee. Starving and dehydrating myself seemed pointless. Despite all my resistance, he continued to be exuberant about our life together, rattling off different things he was going to do to make our apartment cozier and more beautiful, like repaint, lay new carpet, bring in new furniture, and build some himself, especially a closet for my new clothes and shoes. He said he had seen a dresser that would match our bed and fit perfectly in the corner. He claimed that everything he mentioned had been agreed on between us on the Internet and that actually I was the one who had given him the ideas. I had no doubt that he was telling the truth about that, about what Haylee had said to encourage him.
Even though I was unchained from the wall, I was still trapped in his fantasy. If I charged at the door, could I get up the stairs and out of his house before he grabbed me? Probably not, and then what would he do to me? Surely he would chain me up again. If I was going to escape, I had to be far cleverer about it than simply trying to run away from him when he left the door unlocked while he was down here or when he turned his back on me. He didn’t leave the key in the lock, either, so I couldn’t rush out, close the door, and lock it behind me. He wore the key on a ring on his belt, along with the keys he used at work. No, my only hope was to go back to the idea of swimming along with the current, only swimming faster.
“Wait a minute,” I said, and then sat back as if I was giving everything he had rattled off serious thought. “Why are you doing so much for this place? Why don’t we just live upstairs in your house? I know, from how my mother did it, how to fix up rooms, change curtains, rugs, decorate. I could change it all to fit our taste and needs.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to agree. It looked like the idea had never occurred to him, but then his eyes widened and he clenched his teeth. He brought his fist down so hard on the table that all the dishes, cups, silverware, and glasses jumped.
I flinched and quickly wrapped my arms around myself.
“What are you talking about? Upstairs isn’t our house. This is our house. We talked about it all the time, how we were going to make it our home. This is where I lived. Upstairs still smells like my parents’ house. I have barely touched anything of theirs, just the things I brought to you and things we need down here. I haven’t thrown any of my parents’ clothing out or given any away. My father’s shaving stuff is still in his bathroom. What are you talking about? You’re going back on everything we planned.”
“I just thought . . . we’d have more room, that’s all.” I looked around. “I didn’t realize how small this place was until you brought me here.”
“You saw it. I showed you every part of it.”
“I know. But things are always different when you’re actually there, right?”
He continued to stare angrily at me. He was opening and closing his hands, and his eyes were twitching. Any moment, he could leap over the table and choke me to death, I thought. I fought back my fear, shoving it down and under the surface of the pool of terror I was in. Keep talking, I thought. Keep talking.
“It’s so gloomy down here with our only two windows boarded up. You never said I would be waking up to mornings without any hope of sunshine. You never said that,” I emphasized, hoping it was true. “It makes me feel like I’m living in a closet. Surely you don’t want that.”
I hoped I was at least confusing him, but the anger in his face looked cemented.
“What good are new things if they look gloomy? You’ll be unhappy, too.”
My voice was weakening under the unflinching intensity of his furious glare. Perhaps he hadn’t heard a word after I had said the things that infuriated him. His hands were still opening and closing, as if he wanted to make fists to beat me with one moment and then changed his mind the next. I was tiptoeing over thin ice with every word I said, every look on my face, and every move I made. I saw myself as someone given the task to disarm a bomb. Tremble too much or make the wrong choice, and you would instantly become dust.
“But if you think this is better, you know better than I do,” I continued. It was too late to stop now. “I mean, you know the upstairs, and I don’t, so you’re probably right.”
I looked back at my food, sipped some now-cold coffee, and tried to act as casual as I could, undisturbed. I should be more excited for us, I thought. I had to get him to think I was all aboard his ship, sailing to his dream life.
“When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about some curtains for the windows. Curtains are really important when you want to give your home some warmth. My mother taught us that. I bet your mother thought the same way. Windows without them look naked, right? Just look at them. I’m surprised you never had any down here. Can you get some pictures of curtains? I’ll pick the best ones. And I like your idea about building a shelf for a television over there,” I said, nodding toward where he had said he planned to put it.
He turned and looked at the area again. His body softened, and he took a deep breath and nodded, but his breath was nowhere near as deep as mine. He nodded, and when he looked at me now, I saw that his face had relaxed, the ice in his eyes had melted, the muscles in his jaw had calmed. It gave me the eerie feeling that he could put on and take off masks in a second.
“Right, right,” he said. “You’re right about the windows. I’ll take off those boards. We need the sunshine. We’ll do all of it like we planned together. I know how to lay carpet, and I’ll show you what to do to help. I’ll even get you a pair of coveralls. We’ll work side by side, just as I imagined we would.”
“You’d better show me choices for the carpet,” I said, “before we get too far. Men don’t know as much about these things when it comes to color coordination.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Sure. My mother told my father he was color-blind. I’ll bring some catalogues back.”
“Can you get them today?” I said, trying to show even more excitement.
“Today?”
“It will be something fun to do. Together,” I said. “I’d like to get started as soon as we can. You’re busy during the week. We’ll only have weekends and whatever time we have in the evening.”
He nodded. “Yeah, today. I have to do some shopping anyway.”
“You don’t want me to go, too, just to help choose things?”
“No,” he said sharply. He saw the look on my face and added, “Not yet.”
At least he believed there would be a time when he would let me out, I thought. I had to work for that.
“Tell me more about the farm,” I said. “You didn’t tell me enough about the outside.”
“I told you plenty.”
“I wasn’t concentrating on it. I was thinking too much about having my own home. You saw how excited I was about it, right?”
“Yeah. There’s not much to tell. It’s not really a farm anymore. I grow some vegetables, and we have two great apple trees in the back.”
“What was there? Cows, horses, chickens?”
“Years and years ago, all three. We had chickens when I was little, but one night my father butchered them all in a rage.”
“Why?”
“Drunk and unhappy about something at work. He didn’t like the mess and noise they made. I don’t remember him doing it. I was asleep, but I remember all the blood and feathers when I woke up and went outside to get some eggs for breakfast. My mother sulked in a corner in the living room all day, and later she made him clean it all up. But I don’t want to think about that. That’s why I don’t talk about the farm.”
“But you have acres, right?”
“Ten. Almost all overgrown. I’m no farmer, and my father certainly wasn’t. But we don’t think about what this place was. It’s what we’re going to make it now,” he said, rus
hing back excitedly to his vision. “We’re like Adam and Eve, aren’t we? Creating our own Garden of Eden, just like you said once. I liked that. You know what?” he said, an idea sparked in his head. “I’ll make a sign and put it on the house: Garden of Eden.”
“Who would see it?” I asked, as innocently as I could. “You said we were far from the road and there were no close neighbors.”
“Who cares? I’ll see it. We don’t do things for strangers or neighbors.”
“Will I see it, too?”
“I’ll bring it to you before I put it on the house,” he said. He nodded at the childish pictures on the wall. “As you can tell, I have a knack for art.”
I looked at the pictures and nodded. “When did you do them?”
“Oh, now and then,” he said. “My father thought they were stupid, but my mother liked them.” He stood up. “All right. You clean up, organize things, while I’m out doing some shopping and getting those catalogues.”
“I need clothes,” I said.
“You got clothes.”
“Things that fit better. I don’t look as good as I can. You want me to look good, don’t you?”
“You look good enough,” he insisted.
I was hoping he would go to a department store and attract attention by buying clothes for a teenage girl.
“Maybe later,” he said. “I don’t have time now. You women can nag.” He seemed to be taking on what he had said was his father’s attitude and demeanor. Then he smiled. “But I like it. Makes me feel . . . like I got me a woman who cares. So nag, nag, nag.”
He laughed and started for the door. Then he stopped and turned to come back to me.
“You always give your man a kiss when he leaves,” he said. He stood there waiting.
What do I do now? I thought. Do I continue to behave as though I agree with it all, or do I whine and cry and threaten? His moods changed as quickly as the snap of a finger. It took everything I had to do it, but I stood up obediently and offered him my lips. He leaned in closely, his eyes wide open, watching me suspiciously, so I put my hands on his shoulders, closed my eyes, and kissed him.
Broken Glass Page 9