Catherine House

by Elisabeth Thomas

  “You said I was the only thing Baby ever believed in,” Viktória said. “That’s true. Me and my plasm. New material for a new world.” She dropped her hand. “I was very proud of her for that. She saw the truth. And someday, the rest of the world will see it, too. Not yet, of course. Even our graduates aren’t ready to see how far we’ve come. It’s not time yet. But Catherine’s truth will come out. Catherine’s exquisite truth.”

  The rain had stopped. Droplets beaded on the window, suspended.

  “So,” she said, “do you want to do it?”

  At first I didn’t understand the question. Then I realized what she meant.

  I didn’t know how I hadn’t heard the voices before. The tower aide was speaking with someone on the other side of the door. Now that I was listening carefully, I realized it was one of M. Neptune’s students. Burt, probably.

  And they were fiddling with something. I heard plastic clicking against plastic. Wheels creaking against wood.

  I said, “No.”

  “You said you didn’t want to be sick anymore,” Viktória said. “This is how you become better. This is how you get all your poison out.”

  I whispered again, “No.”

  Viktória shrugged. “If you’re not ready, that is fine. Of course it is fine. We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” She was touching my ankle again. “But please, Ines. Remember: I know who you were before Catherine. I know who you were and how you ended up here.”

  She rubbed her thumb against my skin.

  “You wouldn’t have gone to prison,” she said. “Of course not. You could hardly be implicated in that girl’s death. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is how easily you presumed your guilt. Because you were ashamed. Ashamed and alone. No one cares about you out there, Ines. No one. And no one will notice if you’re gone. There’s nothing for you in that world. There never was and never will be.” She touched my ear now. “My little sideways girl.”

  I slunk down in the bed. I thought of bringing up Mr. González, but knew that was stupid. He’d never really cared about me, either.

  “When you offered me the concentration,” I said, “those months ago—was this what you meant?”

  Viktória kept smiling.

  “I want to go home,” I said.

  “This is your home.”

  “I mean my room. I want to go back to my room.”

  She inclined her head slightly. “You’re not going back to your room.”

  “I want to finish my tutorial,” I said. “And see my friends. I won’t tell. I promise. I won’t tell anyone about anything.”

  “No,” Viktória said. “You won’t.”

  She stood. She loomed over me.

  “I’ll give you some time to think,” she said. “I do hope, Ines—I hope you will make the right decision.”

  She picked up her shoes. She padded her way to the door.

  “Wait,” I said.

  She turned, her hand on the knob.

  “Does Theo know,” I whispered, “what you want to do to me?”

  She smiled. “Of course. He was the one who suggested it.”

  As she opened the door, I caught a glimpse of the case. It was just my size.

  Then the door closed, and I was alone again.

  *

  I dreamed it was nighttime, and I was walking down the hallway, sucking on a cough drop. I was laughing and swinging Anna’s hand. Cool blue moonlight shifted over her features. We were on our way to the pool. As we came closer, I smelled chlorine.

  Another dream: I was in Baby’s bed, hugging her close. The smell of her almond blossom hair cream filled my mouth. I was whispering into her ear over and over, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

  Then another: I was in the music room. A girl was hunched over the piano, playing a languid Beethoven sonata. The curtains were shifting. Something was moving behind them. Someone was there.

  I woke up.

  I was still in the tower. Every day and every night, I was still in the tower.

  Viktória didn’t return.

  Was she waiting for me to do something? Give some signal that I was ready?

  My throat clenched at the thought. I wasn’t ready.

  Would I ever be ready?

  I pressed my cheek against the cool window. I could almost hear something out there, far away. A mechanical creaking, maybe, and kids laughing and screaming together.

  Was today the Founders’ Festival? I imagined Yaya in the bouncy house, jumping up and down, giggling and drunk, and Nick lying on the grass with a big grin. His teeth were stained red with wine. He’d said something funny, and Anna was laughing, laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  But Theo? Where was Theo?

  I sank to the floor. I hugged my knees.

  When had Theo realized I could be used for their project? When I learned how to ride the bike? When I kissed him by the fountain? That night in the abandoned office, when we watched Bye Bye Birdie together? No, it couldn’t have been that night; that was before he was working with M. Neptune, before he knew what was going on. It must have been sometime after his forum presentation. Some specific, precious, crucial moment when he turned to me and realized I was perfect. But when?

  I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes.

  You’ll always be beautiful, Theo had said to me once. That’s all he wanted for me: to be beautiful and real, forever, like Baby. He just wanted me to be happy. He wanted us to be happy.

  Why couldn’t I be happy?

  I shouldn’t be thinking of myself. I should be thinking of Catherine. I needed to try harder.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

  But then I wanted to laugh. It suddenly hit me: after all this time, I still didn’t understand plasm at all.

  I’m in the house, I tried to say. I’m at the edge of the woods. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here, and everything’s going to be fine.

  But no matter how many times I said it, it didn’t feel true.

  *

  Many nights passed—days, weeks maybe—before the aide was opening the door and saying, “You have a visitor.”

  My eyes darted up, but it wasn’t Viktória. It was Yaya, wearing braided rope wedges and a long, royal purple jersey dress that twisted between her breasts and fell to the floor in folds. Her hair was puffed up like a halo on top of her head.

  I had been bundled in a sheet at the tea table, playing solitaire. I tightened the fabric around my shoulders.

  “Oh, Ines,” she breathed. The dress floated around her legs as she came toward me. She sat in the chair next to mine and touched my shoulder. Then she hugged me.

  I let her hold me. I tried to hug her back. She smelled like I remembered, like roses and nuts.

  “Oh,” she said again, squeezing me tighter.

  The aide, the same one who had admitted me, stood blank-faced by the door, her arms folded.

  Yaya held me at arm’s length. “You’re so skinny.”

  “How are you?” I said.

  She looked me up and down. I wished she wouldn’t. I wished she couldn’t see me.

  She glanced down at my game of solitaire. I’d scattered the deck in frustration.

  “Oh,” she said. “You’ve lost.”

  I burst out laughing.

  But Yaya wasn’t laughing. Her eyes were welling up with tears. I’d never seen her cry before. Her face didn’t move as they streamed down her cheeks.

  “Yaya,” I said, “don’t be sad.”

  She wiped her face as she settled back into the chair. “You look just awful,” she gasped.

  “Sorry.”

  “We’ve missed you.” She wiped her face again. “We all miss you.”

  “We’re together now.”

  She fiddled with a silver ring she always wore around her pinkie. “We’re graduating,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

  I nodded. So it had been a full semester.

  I shifted on my seat. “How’s everyone?”
r />   “Okay. Good. We finished our tutorials and took our finals. We all passed, if you can believe it. Though Diego lost his mind for a while there. Remember how he was sleeping with what’s his name—his advisor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he’s been, like, sobbing all night at the thought of leaving him. Apparently Diego thinks they’re actually in love. He’s lost, like, ten pounds that he did not need to lose.” She shook her head. “Anyway. We did it. We’re graduating.”

  “How about Theo? Is he doing okay?”

  Yaya’s mouth hardened. “He’s fine.”

  She must know by now that Theo was staying. That he was on M. Neptune’s team and wasn’t going to be graduating with everyone else. But Yaya said nothing more about it.

  “Anyway,” she said, “everyone misses you, but I was the only one who had enough points to come here. So. Everyone says hi. Especially Diego. He misses having someone to sneak to the kitchen with.”

  That wasn’t true, about the points. I knew Theo had earned many and was miserly with them, like he was with food. He could do whatever he wanted.

  Maybe Yaya had sensed my thoughts, because suddenly she spat out, “Theo thinks this is good for you. Being here.”

  I fiddled with a playing card.

  “Fifteen more minutes,” the aide said.

  Yaya glanced at her. Her throat pulsed. Her eyes were watering up again.

  “Want to play gin?” I said.

  Yaya sighed. She nodded.

  I dealt out the cards. I won the first hand with three beautiful spreads. Then Yaya won, twice in a row, both with rows of hearts. She clapped her hands with delight as I moaned.

  “Ha,” she said. “Ha.”

  “Just deal,” I said.

  She started to deal the next hands.

  When the aide glanced at her watch, Yaya slipped something out of her bra and played it into the cards.

  I studied her face, but she wouldn’t meet my eye.

  I picked up my hand. One of the cards felt different. Something was taped to its underside.

  I slipped the new card into the folds of my bedsheet.

  Yaya played a hand of spades. Then she touched my hand.

  “Remember,” Yaya whispered, “I told you when it would be time to think. To really consider something.”

  The aide coughed.

  “It’s time,” Yaya said.

  I whispered, “I can’t.”

  “Yes,” Yaya said, “you can.”

  I drew another card.

  “All right,” the aide said. “Come on.”

  After Yaya had left, the aide disappeared, and I was alone again, I pulled Yaya’s card out from the sheet.

  It was a Monopoly property. New York Avenue.

  Yaya had scribbled a note on the card. I didn’t read it at first, just turned it over to find the tools taped to the front: the wrench and lockpick from Baby’s kit.

  I ripped the wrench off the card and held it up to the window. The metal glinted in the sunlight.

  *

  One day, my first spring at Catherine, Theo and I spent the afternoon playing dominoes. He had found them in some obscure Ashley parlor, nestled at the bottom of a trunk filled with Latin textbooks and silk scarves. There were several domino kits scattered around the house, but this one was special; the tiles were painted Egyptian-blue and the pips were shaped like stars.

  I ran my finger along the stars. They felt exquisite beneath my touch. Theo laughed at how entranced I was, but I didn’t mind him making fun. I liked the sound of his laugh.

  We were playing in one of the Harrington parlors, near the great hall. It was a tiny room outfitted with a tea table, two chairs, yellow silk wallpaper, and a glass cabinet full of books. The ceiling was decorated with a mosaic, a gaping goldfish with coruscating orange scales. We were alone. Through the open window, I could smell lilac trees blooming.

  Theo and I didn’t know each other well back then. We were new friends. We didn’t know what would happen.

  Theo clicked down a tile. I laid one down, too.

  There was a noise on the other side of the wall. Footsteps, jostling bodies, a loud voice—Nick, shouting, “Oh my God, Yaya, don’t you dare,” then a burst of laughter.

  Theo hesitated with his next tile. He glanced at me.

  “Should we follow them?” Theo said, nodding toward the door. “They’re probably going to dinner.”

  “Let’s stay here,” I said.

  A cloud moved as he set down the tile. The goldfish in the ceiling scintillated.

  For some reason, in that moment, I thought for the first time: I might be happy here. I might be very, very happy.

  Theo and I stayed there together as the sun set. Then we turned on the lights.

  *

  It was time for my hour of exercise. I hadn’t been let outside during my first stay in the tower, but now I was taken out once a day.

  The aide shimmied a pale dress over my head, fiddled with the knob on the back door, and pushed me out into the glaring sun.

  I shaded my eyes with my hand. I took four deep breaths.

  The yard rolled away into a bank of dark maple trees, ferns, and bushes. Summer haze warped the horizon. The gate was somewhere ahead among the trees, too far away to make out. The loading dock and silos peeked out over the cluster of dry bushes on the left. Otherwise, there was nothing to see.

  I ran in circles. It felt good to move my legs; the weeks in the cramped tower had made my body creaky and weak. I ran until my heart stung and my whole body was damp with sweat. I ran until I thought I might die. Then I collapsed, panting.

  The grass, this close against my face, could be any grass, anywhere. I squinted. The grass blurred into hazy green.

  I poked a hole in the ground with a stick. I dug deeper. A pink worm pulsed against my fingers. I shaped my pile of dirt into a wigwam.

  While I played, the aide sat in a white wire chair, knitting. She liked knitting scarves. This was her third scarf since I’d been here.

  I lay down again and stared at my wigwam. It looked like a nice little home for a nice little creature.

  A bird tweeped in the trees.

  I wiped my mouth. I was drooling.

  Today was graduation day. Everyone was lining up in the bluebell field with their white dresses, blue and yellow sashes, and pretty daisy crowns. Their skin was fresh as milk, their cheeks flushed with joy. They were clapping and cheering for each other. They were all so glad. They had all done such a good job.

  Now they were packing their few personal items into suitcases long forgotten at the tops of our closets and under our beds. They were lugging them down the stairs, hugging friends in hallways, and scribbling down home addresses. Because they would definitely stay in touch. Of course they’d stay in touch.

  They were boarding the shuttles in shifts. They were playing road trip games, games like I Spy and Twenty Questions, and napping with their heads against the bus windows. They were passing around one last bottle of Catherine wine and telling stories about the time Henry Vu threw up in the middle of Linear Algebra.

  Then they were getting off the bus, kissing each other, and they were gone.

  They were gone. They were all gone.

  How could they do it? How could they let Catherine go? I didn’t understand. Because I could tell already: I would never stop missing the house. I would always be missing here.

  I ran a hand through the cool grass.

  Wind hushed through the trees.

  I love you, I thought. I love you forever.

  “Hey,” the aide was calling, “that’s it. Come on. Let’s go.”

  I waved a bee away from my face.

  I wiped my hands on my legs as I stood. My palms were red, my knees stained a raw, gory green.

  *

  The elephant figurine’s howdah was painted bright circus blue and red, and its trunk was cleverly articulated to dip with the press of a finger. I had spent many days and nights in the tower marchi
ng him across the bedspread, imagining the beautiful stories Yaya would have thought up for him.

  Now he was still.

  I turned in the bed. I’d counted the passing days according to the instructions in Yaya’s note, but I had no idea what time it was, except that the sun had set hours ago. That would have to be enough.

  Something lurched in my guts, and I thought, Now.

  I climbed out of bed.

  I stood naked in the middle of the room for one silly moment, glancing over the bedsheets, tea table, and bookcase as if wondering what I should pack. But none of it was mine. It had never been mine. I wasn’t waiting for anything.

  I’d hidden Yaya’s note and the lock kit under the mattress. I fetched them and knelt by the back door.

  Moonlight gleamed on its simple knob. I’d never opened one before, but Baby said they were easy, once you could do Master Locks.

  I could do this. Baby’s voice from our lessons echoed in my head. Just feel for each pin, one by one, and then let them fall. Be sensitive. Let each one go when it wants to.

  I inserted the tension wrench, then the hook. I stroked, feeling for the pins.

  None of them fell.

  Panic squeezed my stomach. I could feel the heads of the pins but they were loose already. What was I doing wrong?

  I stepped back. I jiggled the knob. It rattled in my hand.

  I stood and twisted the knob fully. The door creaked open.

  I sucked in a breath.

  The yard was vast and dark. The sky, the great sky above, was violet and cloudless, fragrant, and sublime with stars.

  I closed my eyes. I breathed again.

  Had the door never been locked? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t think about that now. I had to go.

  I took one step, then another. The night air slipped cool against my naked skin. I grabbed a towel I found by the shower and wrapped it around myself before walking quickly across the yard, down the sloping grass, past the bushes, toward the loading dock.

  I wanted to turn my head for one last sight of Catherine: the house, the lights, the millions of rooms and windows and doors. My home in the woods. But I knew if I looked back, I might never leave.

  The truck was already at the loading dock. Bunny stood smoking a cigarette by the lift.

  “Bunny,” I whispered as I came close to him. “Hi.”

  He tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomped it out with his heel. He looked me up and down.