Call Me Lydia

by MaryAnn Myers

  "Dad, I got a call from the alarm company this morning."

  "I know, dear." He patted her hand. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not up for anything like that anymore."

  Lydia paused. This meant he did have them call her. "Well, don't worry. I guess it was just a short circuit anyway."

  John stared straight ahead. "Pity," he said. "Left undetec­ted, it could have started a fire and burned to the ground."

  Lydia's blood drained from her face. "Dad! Why would you say such a thing?"

  He looked at her. "Why not? It was empty. Who would it hurt?"

  Lydia hesitated, her voice quivering. "The people who depend on it. The people left behind with only the pieces to pick up."

  John nodded somberly, then sighed again. "Will you be staying for lunch?"

  Lydia just sat there, not answering at first, not knowing what to say, what to do. What was he thinking? "I can't," she said. "I've got to go into the plant for a while." She needed to make him care. "Dad, about that check…."

  "I told you, dear. I don't know anything about it."

  "I know. But I had a copy of it, and someone signed my name. So I thought maybe if you…."

  John shook his head, insisting again that he didn't know anything about it, which made her only think otherwise. He refused to even discuss the matter. "I think I'll go lie down for a while, dear. I'm sorry, but I'm tired."

  Lydia rose to her feet and kissed him on the cheek. Her hands were trembling. "Maybe I'll come by later."

  John nodded, and she walked him inside. When he went upstairs, she headed straight for the den, and another Scotch.

  She downed it in one swallow, then started toward the kitchen to say good-bye to Betty, but started gagging and had to rush down the hall to the bathroom.

  Betty heard her and went to investigate. "Are you's all right, Miss Lydia?"

  "Yes," she managed to say between retches. "Fine."

  Betty opened the door anyway. "Oh Miss Lydia..."

  She couldn't have pretended now, even if she tried. She was throwing up too violently. "I must've eaten something bad," she attempted to say. "Something that didn't agree with me."

  Betty ran cold water on a washcloth and held it to Lydia' s forehead, nodding sympathetically. "Yesmmmmmmm, Miss Lydia. Yesmmmmmrn."

  When she finally stopped, Betty insisted she come sit down and have some ginger ale to settle her stomach, and it did seem to help. But then in the car as she was leaving, she made the mistake of glancing up at her father's window and saw him sitting in his chair, not lying down as he had said, and her stomach started doing flip-flops all over again.

  * * *

  On the way to the plant, she managed to talk herself out of having to stop, but once there, she rushed upstairs to the nearest ladies room. As she started through the door, some­one shoved their way out past her, knocking her back against the wall.

  Her head hit with a thud, and she felt a burning pain in her arm. But she was about to throw up again, so all that mattered was getting to a toilet. This time, though, there was nothing left to heave up. After a minute or two, and with the nausea passing, she raised her head and went over to the sink to rinse her face. That's when she noticed the blood dripping from her arm.

  It wasn't a little blood either. It was a lot. She rushed back to the first stall, pushed up her sweater, and took a dreaded look. "Oh my God!" She wadded some tissue on it and went looking for Tony.

  She found him with Reed and Bill, down by one of the Mayfrans. When he turned and saw her, white as a ghost and with a bloody arm, he dropped what he had in his hand.

  "What happened?!"

  Lydia tried to answer, but nothing came out. She tried again. "I don't know."

  "What do you mean you don't know?" Tony reached for her arm. "Here, let me see."

  Lydia darted her eyes away when he took the tissue off. "It's bad, isn't it?"

  Tony shook his head, glancing up anxiously. "No, it's just…." He turned her arm sideways and dabbed at it to get a better look. "How'd you do this? Did you fall?"

  Lydia shivered. This was like a bad dream, something that was happening to someone else. Reed and Bill were taking a look now, and Reed was making a squeamish face.

  "I uh...was going into the ladies room, and uh...and someone was in there. They pushed past me, and I hit my head. But I didn't know about my arm until…."

  "Do you think it needs stitches?" Reed asked, leaning over Tony's shoulder.

  "No." Tony pushed back on him with his elbow to get him to give him some space. "Lydia, which ladies room?"

  "The one at the top of the stairs."

  Tony turned to Bill and literally handed him Lydia's arm. "Here," he said. "Look after this." And to Reed, on the run, "I'll take the back stairs! You go that way! The doors are locked, so…."

  Lydia gasped. "Oh no! I didn't lock the door! I was in a. hurry.”

  Tony hesitated, but only for a split second, glancing back over his shoulder to give her one of those looks of his, then took off.

  The wound on her arm was about two inches long, wide but not deep, more like a scrape than anything. As Bill tended to it, Lydia played mind games with herself: It was nothing but an accident. She'd simply gotten in someone's way. For all she knew, this person, albeit rude, was unaware of the effect pushing her out of the way had. So she sat there, watching Bill pour a liberal amount of peroxide on the wound, and when he said, "It's really not that bad," she agreed and sighed with relief.

  "Thank God, because I hate hospitals."

  Bill smiled. "I don't like them much myself."

  Lydia studied him for a moment. "You've been there a lot, haven't you?"

  Bill shrugged, saying, "My share, I guess." But what he should've said was, "More than I care to count," because that's what he was thinking. Having picked up on that, Lydia thought about the time he'd lied to her about not seeing a doctor when he'd hurt his hand.

  Strange then and strange now, it had her thinking of Tony's remark about Bill's not liking to be touched, saying how he seemed to have a thing about it. Then she thought about all the other times he'd acted strangely, how he'd break out in a sweat, the evasiveness, the day she noticed the sanitary napkins....

  Right as she was thinking this, he reached into his bottom drawer and took that box of sanitary napkins out. "Can't beat them for emer­gencies like this," he said, blushing a little as he cut a small piece of one.

  Lydia smiled. "You know, I noticed those in there before and had to wonder."

  Bill's face lost some of its color, and along with that began a slow trembling in his hands.

  "Not that I was looking through your desk or anything," Lydia said, wondering if that's what was making him nervous. Maybe he was thinking she'd looked through it for something, the way she'd gone through Dan Morris's desk and files, not trusting him.

  But that wasn't it. When he glanced up, chuckling ner­vously, she tried blanking out everything else to concentrate on what he was hiding, what was really bothering him. But all she could sense was blood. Blood, blood, and more blood. And why not? Her sweater was soaked in it. Then it came to her.

  "Bill, you're a bleeder, aren't you?"

  Bill didn't nod or say a word in response to that. One might think he hadn't even heard her question. "Have you had a tetanus shot lately?" he asked.

  "Two years ago," Lydia said.

  "Good, any longer than that, and…."

  "Bill?"

  He looked up at her, with a resigned sigh. "Yes, I'm a bleeder. I'm a hemophiliac."

  Funny, how this conversation took precedent over every­thing else happening, even as Tony and Reed combed the upstairs. But to Lydia, it did. Because there were times, though she would hate to admit it, she'd suspected Bill of being involved in some of the shadiness going on. She even wondered if perhaps he was a woman posing as a man for some reason, thanks to the sanitary napkins. So as sad as this was, it came as a relief.

  "But aren't you afraid? Doing the work you do?”<
br />
  "No. The only thing I'm afraid of is not being able to do it. I love what I do." Bill's voice strained with emotion. He chuckled to try to hide it. "When I was a kid, I used to build things in my head, and then break them. All in my head, just so I could fix them. I had one messed-up head."

  Lydia smiled. "But won't you bleed to…?"

  "Bleed to death?" Bill shook his head. "No, I just have to be more careful than most people, that's all. At least that used to be all."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Controlling the hemorrhages," Bill explained. "I used to be able to somewhat. And when I found I could do that, I just up and turned my back on the disease."

  Lydia's eyes widened, and he smiled. "No, it didn't go away. But I did seem to get a handle on it. And for years now, I've been going along doing exactly what I want. And not just in my head."

  "So what happened?"

  Bill hesitated. "AIDS."

  Lydia looked puzzled.

  "You'll hear about it soon enough," he said. "In fact, it'll probably be a household word by the end of the decade. It's a disease that affects the immune system."

  "Do you have it?"

  "No, and I won't get it either. At least not by transfusion. They test for it now."

  "Then I don't understand."

  Bill looked at her. "There's no cure for it," he said. "You get it, you die. And right now, that's about all that's known for sure. Though it does seem to be transmitted through blood."

  "Now associating it with hemophilia."

  Bill nodded. Exactly. "A few people where I used to work...." He paused, making sure the bandage was right where he wanted it, higher on one side to allow for it to slip and still cover the wound, and started wrapping it. "They knew about my being a hemophiliac, the infirmary, and personnel." He glanced at her. "They started watching me like a hawk."

  "For what?"

  "I don't know." Bill shrugged. "What does anyone watch someone that's different for? All I know is I didn't want to be there when all the fuss started."

  Lydia thought about the comment his previous employer made about wishing him well. "Is that why you left?"

  Bill nodded. "I started having more hemorrhages than I'd had in years. I couldn't seem to control it anymore."

  "So you thought maybe a fresh start..."

  Bill nodded again, smiling sadly. "And I was doing just fine, until you came along asking questions."

  Lydia chuckled apologetically. "Well, I won't ask any more. I promise. And no one else here has to know. Okay? The control part I'll leave up to you."

  Bill just looked at her for a moment, visibly moved, and was about to say something, when in came Reed and Tony. Reed, out of breath. Tony, furious.

  "Nothing!" he said, looking like he was going to put his fist through a wall. "Probably long gone."

  Lydia made an attempt to calm him down. "Well, I'm all patched up now, so you can relax."

  "Relax?" This time he did hit the wall. "Relax?!"

  Lydia cringed. So much for calming him down. She got up off the desk, folding her sleeve back. "I'm going up to my office. I need to go over the accounting, and…."

  Tony blocked the door. "No! You stay down here. I'll go up and get it and you can take it home."

  Lydia sighed. "You're scaring me again, Tony."

  Tony looked at her. "I'm scaring you?" He pointed to his chest, stepping closer. "I'm scaring you?! Oh yeah? Well you want to know what scares me? The way you keep rationalizing this!"

  Lydia looked at him, her expression a kind of blank stare, one so goddamned frustrating, it had him throwing his hands up. He walked away. "You talk to her!" he told Reed. "I'll go get her stuff." Three strides and he swung back around. "And don't let her out of your sight!"

  Lydia was the one frustrated now. She wasn't rationaliz­ing this. All right, so someone cut her arm. So what? It wasn't serious. She'd live. Why make such a big thing out of it? Besides, it was probably just an accident.

  Reed suggested they wait outside, and she walked along with him and Bill, doing exactly what Tony had accused her of - rationalizing.

  "You know," she said, in the bright sunshine as she leaned against her car. "I don't think that was a woman."

  "What?" Reed said.

  Lydia looked at him and Bill. "That wasn't a woman upstairs."

  Reed frowned. "You never said it was."

  "I didn't?" she said. "Hmph. I thought I did."

  When Tony came out, she told him the same thing. He hardly glanced at her, and then only to have her open the passenger door of her car so he could put the accounting forms on the seat.

  “That makes this seem even odder,” she said, “now that I think about it. I mean, what would a man be doing upstairs in the ladies room?"

  Now Tony looked at her, and then he just shook his head. There was no reason for anyone, man or woman, to be upstairs, or anywhere else for that matter. So what was the point?

  "I only wish I could be sure," Lydia said. And that did it.

  "Oh?" Tony said sarcastically. "Like the way you were sure about the dead animals and the harassment being totally harmless." He motioned to her arm. "Well, so much for that!"

  Lydia hesitated and swallowed to make a confession. "Actually, I uh...wasn't all that sure about that. I just didn't want everyone to make too much of it, so I just said I was sure."

  Tony exploded. "Goddamn you, Lydia! What were you thinking?"

  Lydia cringed. "I don't know. I just...."

  Tony held his hands up and started past her. "Please! Don't say another word. When I think of you three girls out there on the patio last night…."

  "Yeah, but see, that's why I bought the gun."

  Tony stopped dead and turned back around, so exasper­ated he could hardly keep a civil tone. "And where was the gun last night, Lydia? Huh? Tell me that. Where was the fucking gun last night?"

  Lydia just stared. What could she say? For a moment, the four of them just stood there. Then it was time to do some­thing – anything - anything to take her mind off this.

  "I want to go to the store," she said, starting around the car to the driver's side. "I need to get some lunch meat."

  Tony ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Fine. Hang on and I'll follow you."

  Lydia felt sure he was making too much of this, but wasn't about to aggravate him any further by telling him that, and got in her car.

  When Bill walked over to lock the back door, Tony turned to Reed. "What are you doing tonight?"

  "Nothing much, why?"

  "This dinner date she has with Miller, I think we should join them."

  Reed nodded as Lydia started her car, and Tony glanced at her. "In fact, why don't you just come with us now? I'm going to have to go home and change, and I don't want to leave her alone.”

  Lydia revved her engine impatiently upon hearing this, and Tony glanced at her again, shaking his head. "She kills me. She's constantly walking around saying she's scared, then forges right ahead blind as a bat."

  And forge ahead she did. She pushed a caution light at the first intersection, leaving Tony and Reed behind, and it was a good mile before they caught up with her. So much for her not wanting to aggravate Tony any further.

  Shopping with the two of them proved fun, though, walking up and down the aisles, filling their arms with chips, pickles, lettuce, beer. She picked up one brand; Tony put it back and picked up another. And at the deli counter, they got ham, cheese, and marinated tomatoes. At the checkout, Tony nudged her out of the way, reaching for his wallet. Lydia said, "No, that's okay, I'll get it." He gave her a look, one that said, "No, that's not okay, I'll get it." She shrugged to the cashier.

  "Gee, I had no idea I could pick up guys at a supermarket and then not even have to pay."

  Reed cracked up. He couldn't help himself, especially with the cashier looking so shocked even after Tony assured the woman Lydia was only kidding. Then they were off again, but this time Tony and Reed boxed her in, not allowing he
r as much as a car length to even think of making a break.

  Jan's car was still in the drive at the beach house. Tony parked off to the one side and checked it out thoroughly. Then, taking Lydia's keys, he had Reed wait with her outside until he had checked each room in the house as well.

  Finally he let them in. "This thing of yours with this woman not being a woman bugs me," he said, leaning against the counter as Lydia unloaded the grocery bags. "Because you said something like that just the other day."

  Lydia shrugged, as if it weren't important anymore, and glanced at Reed. He was walking around the living room, swooning as he headed toward the patio.

  "God, what a place."

  "Thanks," Lydia said, smiling as she looked at Tony. "We like it. Don't we, honey?"

  Reed laughed, but Tony wasn't in the mood for any of this. Not one bit. "What makes you think it isn't a woman?"

  "I don't know. It's just a feeling I have."

  "Maybe we ought to stake out the ladies room," Reed said jokingly, which didn't strike Tony as too awfully funny either. Then there was a noise at the door.

  Tony heard it first and was halfway across the living room before Reed and Lydia had a chance to even turn that way. In came Sharon, with Jan bumping into her when she stopped suddenly from being startled.

  "Lord! Who were you expecting?"

  Tony sighed, managed something resembling a smile, and walked back to the kitchen.

  "What's going on?" Sharon said. "You're not having a party without us, are you?"

  Lydia nodded, watching Tony as he opened the carton of beer, took out two, and tossed one to Reed. "We're having a mystery party."

  Sharon raised an eyebrow and looked at Jan. "Sounds like fun to me. What do you think? Shall we crash it?"

  Jan blushed, giggling, which was as good as a yes as far as Sharon was concerned, and with that settled, it wasn't long before they noticed Lydia's arm.

  "Oh my God," Sharon gasped. "What happened?"

  "Well...that's the mystery," Lydia said, hoping to make light of it with her dramatics. "We have to figure out who stabbed me."

  "Yeah, right. Seriously, come on, what happened?"

  "Uh…." She looked at Tony, he was answering for her.