by Saks, Tessa
Ellen rolled over and read the clock: eleven a.m. She might lose her job, her fiancé and her future if she didn’t get her act together. She forced herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She was surprised she hadn’t experienced any morning sickness; she certainly had with Brandon and Brianna. She washed her hands under the cool water and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
You aren’t her. A voice inside her head kept repeating. You aren’t her. You shouldn’t be. You shouldn’t be. She touched her body. I feel everything, she argued back. If I’m not her, why do I feel like her? But Ellen knew it was an argument she couldn’t win. Ellen knew deep inside, she was herself.
As she stepped into the shower, she laughed as she thought how good it felt to be yourself. For the first time in nearly forty years, she understood who she was. The irony—that inside the body of another woman, Ellen Horvath had finally discovered who she really was.
***
Ellen phoned the office and said she wouldn’t be in, that she was sick with the flu and would hopefully be in within a day or two. She packed a tote bag with a novel and a towel, then took the bus to the Heredity Gardens Enrichment Center. The two-hour bus ride seemed short, for no sooner did the bus start, she nodded off, only to wake as it neared the town.
After finding a cab to take her to the center, Ellen walked up the long walkway to the reception area and front desk. A thin man with a shaved head, wearing multiple strands of beads on his wrist and a white linen tunic that seemed more like a dress, looked up from his magazine. “Good afternoon, welcome.” He displayed a bright, white-toothed grin.
“I don’t have an appointment. I was hoping to walk around the gardens and look around.”
“Wonderful. Just fill this out.” He slid a clipboard toward her.
Ellen sat and filled out the form as truthfully as possible, including questions about her favorite colors, objects, possessions, clothing, her food likes and dislikes. Any allergies. What she believed about life, death, money, marriage, love, infidelity. On the last pages were large areas to write about dreams and desires. At first, the whole exercise seemed absurd, but as Ellen continued, she started to see the changes in her preferences. Six months ago, she would have had much different answers, but then again, six months ago, she would not have come here.
When she finished, she gave the clipboard back to the man behind the desk. “Is there a fee?” she asked, noticing the cash register to his left.
“To walk around? No. Fees are for classes or private sessions with Master teachers and guides. We also offer massage, reiki, meditation rooms, sweat lodges and music rooms—everything’s in the brochure.” He handed Ellen a brochure covered with plant photos. “Oh, and here’s a map of the grounds. Now, I just need a driver’s license.”
Ellen handed her license to him. “I thought a place like this was all about Zen and trust.”
“State policy,” the man said, rolling his eyes. He stood and walked over to the copier. Under his dress-tunic, he wore baggy pants with beaded Moroccan slippers that tinkled with every step. “Through the door you’ll find lockers, then go down the stairs to get to the main pathway.” He handed her license back. “You can start anywhere, they all connect back to here.”
Ellen thanked him and went through the door to the stairs. She stood at the bottom for several minutes and studied the map. The grounds were over sixty acres, including a botanical garden and retreat. She had no idea the facility was this large, with numerous buildings spread out all over—private study centers, auditoriums, group-meeting rooms, cafes, spas and indoor and outdoor workout gyms. There was also a library and an art studio.
Ellen started on the path toward the waterfalls and lily ponds, a perfect spot to sit and read and contemplate, or whatever it was one did here. When she reached the location, she spread her towel across the grass and sat down to read her book. The sound of the rushing water and birds distracted her from reading. She sat back, contemplating the questions on the form and her life, enjoying the clear cobalt sky, the trees and flowers, and especially, the tranquility.
Over an hour had passed before Ellen decided to move to another location. She gathered her belongings and headed down another path, and as she walked, she approached a woman in a long crinkle pleated skirt, roman sandals and a billowy gauze blouse. Drawing nearer, she realized it was her daughter. “Hi Brianna,” she called out. “It’s me.”
“I know who you are.” Brianna was cool and looked away.
“Can we talk a moment? It’s about your mother.”
Brianna stood, snapping her fingers as she used to do when she was angry.
“Can we sit down over here for a bit?”
Brianna remained silent for a moment. “I have class in ten minutes.”
“I wanted you to know how sorry I am she is in such bad shape.” Ellen said. Brianna did not respond. “I feel partially to blame, well a big part to blame … and I wanted to try and help.”
“Help?” Brianna asked, with a mocking laugh. “That’s a bit of a joke, isn’t it? You helped create this and now you want to fix it? Why? Because you feel guilty?”
“I … I know you hate me.”
“I try not to hate anyone.”
“Well, I understand your hostility toward me. I deserve every bit of it. If I were you—”
“If you were me, Mother wouldn’t be in this situation. This never would have happened.”
“Yes, I only want to try and help. This is very difficult for your father … and now, he won’t budge. I think he’s being too harsh—”
“Harsh? He’s hurt her for thirty years, maybe longer. He’s never considered her feelings. He spent all his time using her for his career and business, for his success, for his own selfish needs and never once put her first.”
“True,” Ellen agreed wholeheartedly. “I’m not here to defend him, he was selfish.”
They stood a moment in silence. Brianna spoke. “Why the sudden interest in Mother?”
“I heard how unhappy she was, so I went to see her.”
“You saw her? Did she throw you out?”
“No, we talked for a while.”
“Now that must have been interesting.”
Ellen nodded in agreement. “I realized how hard it is for her. I don’t want to hurt her unnecessarily. I don’t think Jonathan is being fair.”
“Fair? My father fair? Did you know he’s been moving money around and out of the company, so Mother will have enough to live on and not much more? That he’s doing it for you?”
“No, we never talk about that.”
“And supposedly he has some Swiss bank account.”
“But that’s just a rumor, he never—”
“I have a friend who works at his bank and she saw the transfer documents. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”
“It does. It matters very much. What about your inheritance?”
“Look at me.” Brianna pointed to her soft, flowing skirt and sandals. “Do I look like I care about an inheritance? I could care less. Money is what destroyed my parents. It will never destroy me.”
“But you’re entitled—”
“I’m not entitled to anything. But you are—will be. It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I know how these things work.”
Ellen blushed. “What about Brandon? He must care. Even if he never calls or visits, or thinks about anyone except —”
“Oh, he cares. He’s mad. He feels ripped off. He was counting on his own share of the family fortune … see, he still has dreams of being a powerful Horvath III. I can’t imagine why.”
“But Jonathan can’t take everything, he has to leave some. Divorces are fifty-fifty.”
“Not when you own your own business and your own lawyers. He can and he is, and no one can stop him. You know what’s interesting—if Dad was in the hospital and Mother was healthy, no one would be as affected by any of this. Mother would never do this to us or to him.”
“No, she wouldn’t.”
&nb
sp; “God, I miss her.”
She looked at Brianna, staring out toward the lake, and a torrent of warmth flooded her heart. She looked pretty—her skin had more color, her hair highlighted by the summer sun and twisted into a soft braid. Ellen reached out to push the bangs out of Brianna’s eyes, but stopped herself.
“I used to try to get away from her,” Brianna said, her head hung down. “I wanted to be free from her rule. I used to imagine her dead.”
Dead. The word tore into Ellen like a hot knife.
“Now, realizing that Mother no longer wants to live, that she is unable to enjoy life—now, the only thing I want is her back. I want her the way she used to be. I miss having her worry about me. Selfish, I know. I’m more upset by what I’m losing. But, a huge part of my life has been her. She only ever wanted me to be happy. She tried in her own way to give me all the things she never had. I never, ever, once thought about her. I was always thinking about how I felt.” Brianna wiped a tear from her eye. “I never told her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me. I never showed her.”
“I’m sure she knew—knows.” Ellen said, as she touched Brianna’s arm. She wanted to give her a hug, to hold her. “Your mother knows. She’s proud of you—proud of both of you.”
“It’s too late. She’s slipping away and I can’t do anything.”
“Perhaps we can. I could try to convince Jonathan.”
“No. It would only make him more determined. I know Dad.”
“We need a good lawyer to help with this. Do you know any that your Mother used?”
Brianna shook her head.
“There was a Leo Maxfield,” Ellen said. “That name came up before, he sounded very successful. Maybe call him, tell him to look into the contract she signed and the assessments that the doctors gave. He might be able to get another assessment from a more trustworthy doctor. And tell him about the money. Perhaps he can have the accounts frozen. See if there is anything that might help. Maybe she wasn’t properly informed when she signed, and that would make the contract unenforceable.”
“I can’t believe you … Dad would go mental if he knew you were saying this.”
Ellen shook her head. “Some things are more important, some things are the right thing to do and you must do them.”
Brianna nodded. “Yes, they are, aren’t they? You know, it’s totally weird, but in a way you remind me of Mother.”
Ellen put her arm around her, forgetting herself. “I honestly hope it works, for all of us.”
Brianna rose to leave. “I’m already late, I have to get to class.”
“Promise me you will contact the lawyer right away. She needs to get out before the weekend.” Ellen hesitated. “Because she plans to kill herself—”
“What?” Brianna’s eyes widened. “We have to tell the hospital. They need to protect—”
“No, they’ll lock her up in isolation, then we can’t see her or get her out—”
“But that’s good … if she plans to kill herself. She needs to be watched.”
“Yes, but there’s the hit on her life and that would make it easier for them to continue.”
Brianna grinned. “Not you, too? You’re supposed to be the one behind all this, remember? Or didn’t Dad tell you about her absurd accusations? And your mother is supposedly part of it, too. Or didn’t you know?”
“I know all about it … actually, it might be true. That’s what worries me.”
Brianna looked at Ellen as if unsure whether she was joking or serious. “Tell me you aren’t really involved in—”
“Indirectly, by mistake.” Ellen grabbed Brianna’s arm. “Believe me, I never planned this. I just worry that she might actually be poisoned … slowly—”
“Poisoned? Come on, I’ve seen her. She’s losing her mind, that’s what’s happening.”
“Poison can do that to you. I thought if I took a bit of her hair when I visit her next, it could be tested for chemicals. I read that was an easy way to test, but I need to be discreet.”
“Discreet? About murdering someone.”
“Until we get her out of that place, I don’t want anyone stopping me from visiting or accusing me of wrongdoing. Also, I want to find out who was responsible, after she’s gone.”
“Gone? You’re assuming a lot—”
“I mean, staying somewhere else. Your hair is the same color, it might be easier for you to get it tested. Or maybe get Maxfield to do it. I don’t know where to take it to have it tested. I did hear about this private eye who might know—”
Brianna covered her eyes with her hand as if trying to absorb all the information and make sense of it. “Actually, I can get it done here. The nutritionist does hair analysis. It shows toxic chemicals and metals.” She looked directly at Ellen. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t want anything to happen to her. Every extra minute she’s in there could be dangerous, or worse, fatal. We must get her out.”
“I’ll call that lawyer, Maxfield. Give me your number, and I’ll call you if I hear anything,” Brianna said. “I have to run, I’m very late.”
Ellen gave Brianna her phone number and watched her run toward the large studio. She fit in with this place; it suited her more than any of her other jobs. And she seemed happy. In spite of everything going on in her life, Ellen was glad her daughter was happy.
She turned and walked back to the entrance, gripped with anxiety. Now she had set the course, and there would be no turning back. Jonathan would never forgive her once he finds out what she’s doing, and no matter what happened, her life would never, ever be the same again.
CHAPTER 35
In the dim light, Ellen could see a body underneath the thin hospital blanket. Ellen approached the bed and stood over Sam in the near darkness. Sam lay on her side, curled up tight like a child. Her mouth was partially open. She looked like an embalmed corpse, the unflattering light reflecting greenish tones on her skin and shadows in the grooves of her remaining wrinkles.
Ellen studied Sam’s hands, her hands. My hands. The hands that baked the cookies and put on Band-Aids. The hands that touched life. The hands that loved. Then Ellen looked at the hands on her current body. Young smooth hands. Hands that have never rocked their baby to sleep or wiped a runny nose. She studied these hands before her. Hands were a part of everything that mattered. They held wedding rings and bridal bouquets. They cooked, they cleaned, they created, they played, and they touched. They touched others with love and kindness. They were a part of shaping life. What stories hands could tell, stories of pleasure and pain. Yes, hands have also created pain. Slaps and spankings. Pain to others.
Ellen thought about the pain her own hands had inflicted on others. It wasn’t the slaps or the spankings that her hands were guilty of. These hands were guilty of an even deeper cruelty. Denying touch. Denying the touch of love. They stopped feeling pleasure when they started denying it also. The less they touched others, the less pleasure she had received. She had stopped touching Jonathan to punish him. In the end, she was the one who suffered most. She stopped touching her children, not only with her hands, but also with her heart. They returned this lack of compassion with defiance and judgment.
They say hands can heal. Could any hands heal? Ellen tried to imagine who could have healing hands. It would have to come from someone who wasn’t hurting herself. Ellen looked again at the young hands attached to her young body. She reached over and placed them on the hands of her old body. Ellen tried to imagine that somehow, she could help Sam.
In sudden panic, she pulled her hands away. What was wrong with her? She could no more help this bundle of sadness lying before her than she could have helped herself. The curious part was why she even wanted to try. Ellen leaned forward, noticing small sores on Sam’s face and neck as she pulled a hair from her head. She whispered, “Sam … Sam. Ellen?”
“Mmm.” Sam rubbed her eyes as she tried to open them. She rolled onto her back. “Always a pleasure to see myself again.�
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“I can’t say the same.” Ellen smiled as she spoke.
“No shit. You really fell apart, didn’t you?”
“How are you?”
“Just marvelous.” Sam yawned, trying to stretch, the casted arm remaining stationary.
“Are you feeling better? About everything I mean?”
“Don’t ask. You won’t like the answer—or maybe you would.”
Ellen sat on the bed next to her. “I have a plan.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Listen, I think I can get you out of here. Isn’t that what you want?”
“What I want is my life back. That, obviously, is no longer an option.”
“I tried to call Patty to get more of the powder …”
Sam rolled away from Ellen, her fingers tracing the shadows on the pillow beside her.
“I did try,” Ellen added.
“Good for you.”
“Sam, I’m trying to help. There was a box in the closet, in my house—Jonathan’s house—it had a pair of silver shoes and a pretty bottle of powder stashed inside, a deep blue glass with a cork stopper. What did you do with it?”
Sam continued silently tracing, then motioned her to go away.
“Sam! Do you still have it? This is important. What if there was a way to fix this—to switch back?”
“There isn’t.” Sam rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “That’s why I hope to God I die soon. I think it’s the only way.”
“Let me try and get you out. I have Brianna talking to a lawyer and he can—”
“No!”
“It’s dangerous for you here. What if you die and it doesn’t work? What if we both die?”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“Should I? You of all people should know what it’s like to be old and worn out and tired. You of all people should understand how pathetic my life is. I hate it. All of it. I … I have nothing.” Sam covered her eyes with her hand. “My life is over anyway. You know what they say, ‘dying is easy, it’s living that’s hard.’ Now please leave me alone.”