Never Say Never

by Taylor Holloway

  Now that I’d found the records of what happened in Switzerland, I knew what Alexander was alluding to.

  “You haven’t had anyone check in on her lately?” Richard asked, and then when Alexander looked at him in confusion, elaborated, “you know, had staff go visit Edith’s home or speak with her doctors?”

  There was no chance that Alexander could or would remember doing such a thing. Edith had been dead for more than a month and his working memory was only about twenty minutes these days. He didn’t seem to know how to answer the question. His mouth worked up and down wordlessly as it sometimes did when he was really struggling. Beneath his thick glasses, his blue-green eyes were frustrated. I could almost believe he was on the verge of remembering something important but failing to break through to it.

  “Did you tell anyone to go visit Edith?” Richard repeated. “Did you tell Stephen to go visit her?”

  Alexander blinked at his son. His mouth continued to work up and down.

  “Did you ask Stephen to visit Edith and give him her address?” Richard asked a third time. His voice was becoming more urgent and sharper, and Alexander shifted uncomfortably. He continued to stare at Richard wordlessly.

  “Goddammit, tell me!” Richard snapped. He was almost yelling. A pulsing vein in his neck had popped out of his increasingly red-purple skin, and his eyes were so wide a thin ring of white was visible all the way around his pupils. He reached forward to grab both his father’s wrists.

  Alexander was starting to shake, and I could see through his confusion and fading bravado to the fearful, disoriented man inside. I needed to put a stop to this immediately. Alexander couldn’t handle this sort of interrogation.

  “Richard, why don’t you come back in about an hour?” I whispered in his ear. “He usually does better if he’s had time to digest his food first. It raises his blood sugar and he’ll be more alert.”

  Richard sighed and released his grip on his father’s wrists. “It’s pointless anyway,” he said.

  “What did that cunt say about me?” Alexander asked Richard, sitting back in his chair and eyeing me hatefully. “She’s always whispering. Scheming bitch.”

  “Not everything is about you, papa,” Richard said. His voice was defeated. “I know that’s hard to believe, but it’s true. This is about Edith.” I’d never heard Richard call his father that before. “I’ll come by later, ok?”

  “I don’t give a shit what you do. You’ll always be a failure.” Alexander’s verbal abuse was typical but delivered without his usual vitriol. He was still shaken, although he was probably no longer sure why.

  Richard stood to go. He shook his head and glared balefully at his father before shooting a pitying expression at me.

  “I wouldn’t do your job for all the money in the world,” he remarked. For once he didn’t seem like he was being intentionally rude or condescending. More than anything he just seemed tired.

  “Likewise,” I replied. My patience for Richard was nil at this point and I’d given up on pretending to be polite, either. In truth I was not altogether sure exactly what Richard did, but if his recent behavior and general attitude were any indication, I’d be very bad at it.

  “You, me, and Charlie need to have a talk about Edith,” Richard told me ominously as he fastened his coat and kissed his father farewell. Alexander stared out the window obstinately and pointedly ignored him. “I’ll have him set something up as soon as possible. It’s time you two knew the truth.”

  29

  Charlie

  Somehow, despite all the confusion, frustration, and uncertainty surrounding the two murders, I still managed to work up enough anxiety about Eva and my mother meeting that I woke up in a cold sweat the night before. Next to me in bed, Eva slept on obliviously, only rolling over to put her pale, sleeping hand on my chest in a gesture that was probably instinctive. It seemed like something meant to comfort a frightened child. Her instincts weren’t too far off the mark.

  It wasn’t until I pulled away to get some water that Eva woke up.

  “Are you ok Charlie?” Her voice was quiet when I lay back down.

  “I was thinking about something your brother said to me.”

  It was too dark to see her face, but I could hear she was frowning when she replied. “What did Dylan say?”

  “He said that I’d given you a ‘Sophie’s choice’. It’s been bothering me.”

  “Who’s Sophie?”

  I smirked. She was much too young for the reference.

  “He was talking about a movie where the heroine had to choose between two terrible alternatives.”

  “Huh?”

  “Basically, Dylan thinks I’ve put you in a no-win situation. He says that I can’t give you what you need while working for the Durants.”

  “You need to stop listening to Dylan’s dumb theories. I decide if I’m getting what I need. Not him. Not you. Me.”

  “Actually, that’s only one half of the choice.”

  “Oh, I see. The other choice is heartbreak? I’m going to murder Dylan.” Her voice was cold and furious.

  I sighed.

  “No. The other choice is possible heartbreak plus making you feel guilty for breaking up with someone who is a workaholic and neglectful partner because he’s trying to ensure his ill mother receives lifesaving cancer drugs.”

  When I stopped taking she sat up and turned on the light. She examined my expression for a moment and her face turned resolute.

  “There are so many flaws with that I could talk about them all night but let’s just start with three. One, Dylan is trying to sabotage us. Don’t mistake this for anything else. He’s trying to manipulate you into dumping me by convincing you that I’m too weak and fragile to dump you. Trust me, I’m not. The last few weeks have taught me a lot about the person I’m capable of being. I’m definitely not weak. Two, my prospective suffering or guilt as a result of any action I take is my responsibility and not yours. You’ll be pulled down an impossible rabbits’ hole if you try to psychoanalyze me like that. Three, your mom is in remission and her type of cancer was totally removed surgically. Her risk is extremely minimal.”

  “I know Eva, it’s just…”

  “It’s just that Dylan knows a good mindfuck and is a manipulative bastard sometimes. Ignore it. Let’s just go back to sleep. If you still want to dump me because of something dumb Dylan said tomorrow morning, let’s fight about it then.”

  “I don’t want to dump you! I don’t want to fight with you either.” I was halfway exasperated, but it was mostly due to shame. She was making too much sense.

  “Then we’re all good.” She kissed me and turned the light back off and settled back on her pillow. I stared at the ceiling for a long time.

  Eva was changing me. I hadn’t realized it at first, but after my mom mentioned to me that I seemed happier lately, I started trying to observe myself better. What I discovered was surprising. I was happy, obviously, being in love will do that. But the change was much more than just being happy. Eva’s entry into my life provided a competing gravitational force around which I could orbit, and it was totally altering my trajectory.

  For a long time, I’d been focused entirely on my work and my mom’s health. The two goals had become intermingled in my mind, just as they were financially. Without my job, and without the extraordinary medical care and experimental drugs that Richard had arranged for my mom, she would probably be dead. That was a factual, verifiable statement. What wasn’t true was that working myself to death for the Durants would result in her staying healthy or happy. Nothing in the universe could control that, least of all me. Certainly not Richard. Only when Eva showed up and turned me inside out did I finally understand how unhealthy it was to hinge my hopes for my mom’s health, or my own self-worth, on how many hours I was working. Now stripped of that comforting but ultimately damaging misconception, I was raw and grateful. I was also very afraid.

  The two biggest influences on my life were going to meet one anoth
er over brunch, and I was absolutely scared shitless. What if they hated one another? What if my mom scared Eva off me forever? What if I said something and they both got mad at me simultaneously? There were so many different ways the meeting could go wrong that I actually found myself wishing I’d scheduled Eva and me to meet with Richard first. That way if he turned out to be killer and did us both in, at least it probably wouldn’t be as painful.

  The one thing I hadn’t anticipated, however, was that unflappable, stubborn Eva, would also be afraid.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?” She asked as we walked hand in hand to the restaurant. Her voice was soft and nervous, and she kept pulling at the hem of her baby pink, lace dress with her free hand like she was concerned it was too short. It wasn’t. It was lovely and classy, just like her.

  “You don’t need to be scared. She already likes you.” I felt completely comfortable making that promise. My mom had already indicated that she liked Eva, and honestly, what was there not to like? Eva was smart, hardworking, beautiful, and kind. I’d worried before about whether my mom would approve of girlfriends but had absolutely no reservations about that when it came to Eva.

  “I’ve never met someone’s mom this soon,” she said as we paused before the front door to the restaurant. “Are you sure this whole brunch thing is a good idea?”

  “No, I’m not sure at all.” I wasn’t going to lie to her, but her face fell when I answered, and I rushed on to make my point clear. “My mom wants to meet you, and I know you two are going to get along. If anyone should be nervous about this, it’s me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because between the two of you, I don’t think I’ll be able to get away with anything.”

  Eva smiled at my answer, and I felt a bit better. She leaned up to kiss me and I kissed her back harder than she expected, grasping her tiny waist tightly and twining my tongue around hers to leave her gasping. When I released her, she sat back down on her heels and shook her head.

  “Just like me, I’m sure your mom would let you get away with murder,” she said.

  The voice that responded to Eva’s statement was warm, familiar, and amused.

  “Murder? Oh sure. But not with being late. I hate it when he’s late.”

  We both turned around to see my mom approaching from behind us. She was grinning. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Eva blanch and then blush.

  “Don’t you two make a lovely couple?” my mom continued. “Eva, it’s so nice to meet you. Charlie was trying to keep you a secret from me.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Townsend,” she said formally. Eva extended her hand and my mom hugged her in response.

  “Call me Betsey. Let’s go get some food,” she said, grabbing Eva’s hand and pulling her along with her. “I can’t wait to get acquainted.”

  The first few minutes at the restaurant were awkward as Eva tried to figure out my mom. I watched them both carefully. I saw the exact moment when Eva realized that my mom really was as friendly and guileless as she seemed.

  “Where did you go to nursing school, Eva?” my mom asked.

  “I went to Duke, in Durham, North Carolina.”

  “Is that a Catholic school?”

  “No. It was founded by Methodists I think? Or maybe it was Quakers. I don’t remember.”

  “I take it that you didn’t choose the school based on its religious affiliation then?”

  “No. I picked it based on its scholarships. They offered me the most money, so that’s where I went.”

  My mom laughed merrily, setting her coffee cup down with a loud clink to avoid spilling it.

  “Good for you. That’s what I told Charlie to do when he was picking out a college. I knew he was too smart not to go to college, and I knew that I didn’t have a dime to spend on it. I didn’t care if I had to work three jobs, so he could go to the Scientology University of Clown Studies, but he was going to college. And if the Satanic College of Dental Work gave him more cash, well then he was going to be pulling out goat teeth for the rest of his life.”

  They both laughed.

  “I’m not sure I would have made such a good clown,” I interjected grumpily. I was sitting right next to them, after all. You’d think I wasn’t even present.

  “You probably would have made a better mime,” my mom said fondly. She patted my hand while Eva hid a grin. “But I’m sure you could do anything you put your mind to.”

  Soon, the two women were getting along swimmingly. After my mom had won over Eva, it wasn’t long before Eva won over my mom right back.

  “I heard you had surgery lately, Betsey. How are you recovering?” Eva asked sweetly.

  “I’ve got drains in my bra that constantly drip this awful runny fluid, but otherwise I’m doing alright,” she said bluntly. I cringed and wished I was anywhere else, but of course Eva didn’t bat an eye.

  “Have you started the scar massage yet? I hear that helps a lot with the fluid buildup. Many surgeons recommend starting the massages after the steri-strips on your incisions fall off.”

  “Mine are still on.”

  “How long ago was your surgery? If it was more than three weeks, you can go ahead and take them off yourself. Just get in the shower and remove them like you would a Band-Aid. They should come off easily.”

  “Really? That’s fantastic. Oh my god they’ve been itching so badly.” My mom looked thrilled, but I sort-of wanted to vomit. Talking about my mom’s surgical incisions or breast drains was not compatible with my enjoyment of Eggs Benedict.

  Eva nodded. “Absolutely. It’s great that you were so careful they stayed on so long, but they usually only stick on there for about two weeks. They aren’t helping you anymore. I bet they’re annoying though.”

  My mom looked like she’d just won the lottery.

  “I love her,” my mom said to me, causing Eva to blush bright pink. “I really do.”

  I reached out and grabbed Eva’s hand in mine.

  “I knew you would. Now can we please talk about anything else? This is grossing me out.”

  30

  Eva

  My meeting with Betsey had gone so well that I actually felt halfway hopeful when we drove to the Durant mansion that afternoon to speak with Richard. We found him sitting in the rose garden, only feet from where Stephen had been discovered. It seemed like an ominous choice.

  “My mom planted this rose garden,” he said, reading the expression on my face as I glanced around with uneasiness. “She’d hate that it was now associated more with dead bodies than her gardening skills.”

  “Your mom liked to garden?” I couldn’t help but asking. “I suppose it didn’t run in the family. I have a very hard time imagining you, Deborah, or Alexander Jr. enjoying such an… earthy hobby.”

  Charlie looked shocked at my brazenness, but I’d begun to realize that Richard respected people better when they pushed him and called him on his shit. He was just like Alexander in that regard. Besides, it was true. I’d believe that ice-princess Deborah was the murderer faster than I’d believe she enjoyed digging her fingers around in the mud or picking ladybugs out of her hair. I imagine she’d probably faint if she ever saw a worm.

  Richard looked surprised for a second, but then he smirked. “I should have said that my mother designed the rose garden. She left the actual gardening to others.”

  “Getting one’s hands dirty certainly isn’t for everyone,” Charlie said. His voice was dry and acerbic. He seemed less and less happy with his position as Richard’s fixer lately, especially as the murder investigation dragged on.

  “Speaking of which, I appreciate you both coming today,” Richard replied. He was staring off into the middle distance of the rose bushes, and his voice had a quality I hadn’t heard in it before: sadness. “I need to tell you two about Edith.”

  He sighed and steepled his fingers on his midsection before speaking. It was the same gesture his father made before launching into one of his stories.

  �
�Edith was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was eighteen years old. She began hearing voices shortly before her sixteenth birthday, with hallucinations and delusions shortly afterward. It was terrifying for all of us, obviously, but especially for Edith. We had no idea what was happening to her or why. When we finally got a diagnosis, it was crushing to my parents. Edith was their favorite child up until then. She was the most attractive, the most pleasant, and the smartest of the four of us.

  “After she was diagnosed with a mental disorder, they were ashamed of her. I remember my mother saying she wished that Edith had a brain tumor instead. They worried that if people found out that Edith was mentally ill that it would reflect badly on the entire family. There was some truth to that, but it still never sat well with me.

  “Edith and I were only sixteen months apart in age. Before she got sick we were very close. I always looked up to her, and she always took care of me. When my parents had Edith sent away to live in a hospital, I opposed it. Whenever I went to visit her, it always seemed like she’d drifted deeper and deeper into her own world. She would improve for a while now and then, but it never stuck. My parents did try everything they could find. I’ll give them that. They actually tried too many things.

  “It took years and years but eventually I grew a pair and demanded that I be put in charge of Edith’s care. After a brief fight my parents were happy to turn Edith over to me once I promised to keep her out of the limelight. They were just tired of dealing with her. I was sure I’d do so much better than they had, and I did do my best. Unfortunately, it was never enough. We never did figure out how to manage her symptoms properly. After a very traumatic incident in the early nineties, she was mostly nonverbal.

  “Anyway, all of that is just to say that I loved Edith very much. Even though I kept my promise to my parents and kept Edith away from the world and mostly from my siblings, son, and nephews, it wasn’t because I didn’t care about her. I would never hurt her or allow anyone else to hurt her.