Still Life

by Joy Fielding

  Casey hadn’t been sure what to say, so she’d said nothing, deciding it was probably best to let the tall girl with the piercing blue eyes do most of the talking. She’d already decided she wanted the apartment—it was bright and inviting, despite its small size, although it could use a touch of color, she’d thought, mentally adding a couple of chartreuse pillows to the bland beige sofa, and throwing a zebra-striped rug across the light hardwood floor. A vase of fresh-cut flowers would also be nice, she’d thought as Janine motioned for her to sit down. “Okay, so here’s the story,” Janine had begun without bothering to introduce herself. “I’m loud, bossy, and opinionated. I hate animals, and that includes goldfish, so pets are out of the question, and I’ll throw up if you start waxing rhapsodic about the puppy you had when you were three. I’m looking for someone who’s neat, quiet, and smart, because I hate stupid.”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “Not so quiet, either,” came the instant retort, immediately followed by a brilliant smile. “You’re not some sort of weird psycho-killer, are you?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t you ever see Single White Female?”

  Casey shook her head.

  “You’re lucky. It was terrible. So, what are you studying?”

  “I’m doing a double major in psychology and English.”

  “Yeah? English was enough for me. Switched from prelaw, when I decided I hate lawyers. Except the cute ones, of course.”

  “Of course,” Casey agreed, although what she was thinking was that Janine had a lot of hates. Three in as many minutes.

  The interview had progressed relatively smoothly from there, Casey careful to say as little as possible, letting Janine expound on whatever subject she chose. Half an hour later, Janine was handing over the second set of keys to the apartment. “Okay. We’ll give it a shot. At the very least, you might help attract a better class of men.”

  “So, okay, do you hear anything?” Casey was saying later as Janine slid the glass slowly along the wall, looking for the perfect spot.

  “Just a lot of moving around.”

  Janine adjusted her position on her double bed, hunching down on her knees and reangling the glass at her ear.

  “What are we listening for anyway? Who is this guy?”

  “I don’t know his name. I just know he’s gorgeous. My type exactly. He was outside talking to Peter, who is so not my type, even though he practically drools every time he sees me. Anyway, gorgeous guy gave me this look when I was walking up the front steps, like he liked what he saw. You know the look.” Janine lowered her eyes and pursed her lips to illustrate. “You know what I mean. And we all ended up coming inside together, although Peter, the dumb-ass, didn’t think to introduce us. Or maybe he did, but didn’t want to. Anyway, I overheard Peter telling him my name as we were going up the stairs, so as soon as I got to the top, I ran inside and told you to get a glass. I can’t believe these walls are so damn soundproof. I thought the walls in these old buildings were supposed to be paper-thin.”

  “Let me try again.”

  There was a knock on the door. “You expecting company?” Janine asked accusingly.

  Casey shook her head.

  “Get rid of them, whoever it is,” Janine barked as Casey left the room and approached the front door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Peter, from next door.”

  Casey swiveled around to find Janine at her back. “What are you waiting for?” Janine whispered hoarsely, pulling her black T-shirt tight across her breasts and fluffing out her hair as she signaled for Casey to open the door.

  Casey took a deep breath and pulled open the door to the apartment. Peter, their stick-thin, twenty-year-old neighbor, stood before her with a lopsided grin on his narrow, unlined face, a bottle of red wine in his right hand, and a slyly handsome young man with pale blue eyes and a knowing smile to his left.

  “My friend and I thought you might be interested in sharing a bottle of wine,” Peter ventured shyly.

  “Your friend have a name?” Janine asked, walking around Casey and assuming control.

  “Eric,” said the handsome young man beside Peter, stepping inside without waiting to be asked. “And you are?” he asked, looking directly at Casey.

  “She’s Casey. I’m Janine,” Janine answered. “What have you got there?”

  “It’s a merlot,” Peter answered.

  “A merlot,” Janine repeated, as if she knew what that meant. “Casey, could you get us some glasses?”

  Casey wondered if there were any clean glasses available, since it had been Janine’s turn last night to wash the dishes, and she hadn’t quite gotten around to it. The one clean glass they had was in Janine’s bedroom. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’ll help you,” offered Eric.

  “No need,” Casey said quickly, catching the look from Janine.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” Janine instructed, following Casey into the tiny kitchen at the back of the apartment. “Damn that Peter,” she whispered. “He probably told Eric he likes me, so Eric’s hands are pretty much tied.”

  Casey rinsed out four glasses while Janine watched and fretted. “How am I going to do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Maybe you could distract Peter for a while, get him talking—if I remember correctly, he’s a real movie buff—and that way, I could have a few minutes with Eric, let him know it’s just not happening with his friend.”

  Casey tried. She sat down on the tan chair across from the sofa, allowing Janine to occupy the middle of the couch between Peter and Eric, and she gamely sought to engage Peter in a conversation about movies, even though she disliked both the science-fiction and horror genres he seemed to favor.

  “You’re kidding me. You never saw The Vanishing?” Peter asked incredulously. “How could you miss that one? It’s a classic.”

  “What is?” Eric asked, breaking away from whatever Janine had been telling him, abandoning her, open-mouthed, in the middle of a sentence.

  “She’s never seen The Vanishing,” Peter said with a shake of his head.

  “Oh, you’ve got to see The Vanishing,” Eric repeated.

  “Isn’t that the one with Kiefer Sutherland and Sandra Bullock?” Janine asked, leaning forward and feigning interest.

  “Jeff Bridges plays this creepy serial killer who kidnaps people and buries them alive in his backyard,” Peter said, as if Janine hadn’t spoken.

  “Except you should really see the original Dutch version,” Eric interrupted. “It’s even better.”

  “If you can find it,” Peter said. “Not all video stores carry it.”

  “I might be able to find you a copy,” Eric offered, lowering his eyes and pursing his lips, an exact duplication of the look Janine had shown Casey earlier, the look that said he was interested. Casey pretended not to notice.

  “I’m not really into horror,” she said.

  “This is more suspense than horror. There’s not a lot of blood and guts. Nobody slicing people up with a chainsaw.”

  “Just burying them alive,” Casey said, and both boys laughed more than was necessary.

  “Anybody here see Halloween?” Janine asked. “Or Friday the Thirteenth? The first one, of course.”

  “Who hasn’t seen those?” Peter said dismissively.

  “I haven’t,” Casey said.

  “Really?” Eric asked. “I have a copy. I could bring it over one night. Hold your hand, in case you get scared.”

  Casey jumped to her feet. “Anybody for some cheese and crackers? Peter, why don’t you give me a hand,” she said in the same breath.

  “I’ll help you,” Eric offered, already at Casey’s side before Peter had a chance to respond.

  “I don’t think we have any cheese and crackers,” Janine said with a smile.

  “I’m sure we can find something,” Eric said, taking Casey’s elbow and leading her from the room. As soon as they reached the kitchen, he surroun
ded her with his arms and kissed her.

  “What are you doing?” Casey asked, pulling away, although her entire body was tingling.

  “Kissing you,” he said, kissing her again. “And I believe that time, you might have kissed me back.”

  “Find anything cheesy?” Janine’s voice was pleasant enough, although Casey could feel it leaking acid.

  Casey immediately broke free of Eric’s embrace. She knew that anything she said at this point would be wrong, so she said nothing.

  “Like I said, I think we’re all out of snack food,” Janine continued, followed by a glorious smile.

  The impromptu gathering broke up minutes later, when Janine announced she had an assignment she had to complete by morning.

  “How about dinner next Saturday?” Eric whispered to Casey on his way out. “I’ll call you,” he said before she could answer.

  “So,” Janine said, smiling as she closed the apartment door. “That went well.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Casey apologized immediately. “Of course I won’t have dinner with him.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course you will. Are you crazy? He’s gorgeous. And you like him. Why wouldn’t you go?”

  “Because you like him, and you saw him first.”

  Janine pushed her dark hair away from her face. “Don’t be such a dork. Just because I saw him first doesn’t mean I own him. Clearly, he’s not interested in me. He wants you. And just as clearly, you want him.”

  “I’m not sure what I want.”

  “Hey, I’m not blind. I saw that kiss you planted on him in the kitchen.”

  “He kissed me. I was caught completely by surprise,” Casey protested.

  “Maybe the first time,” Janine corrected. “Not the second.”

  Casey said nothing. Janine had witnessed both kisses? Did she have X-ray vision? Or was she just taking an educated guess?

  “Close your mouth,” Janine told her, clearly enjoying Casey’s discomfort. “A fly will get in.”

  “You really wouldn’t mind if I went out with him?”

  “Would it matter if I did?”

  “Yes,” Casey insisted. “Of course it would matter.”

  “Then you’re being stupid. And you know I hate stupid. God, what awful wine.” She picked up the bottle. “Guess we could stick a candle in it and pretend it’s the sixties.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Don’t tell me they want it back.”

  “Who is it?” Casey asked, holding her breath and not moving.

  “Casey,” the familiar voice sobbed.

  “Drew?” Casey asked incredulously. She ran to the door and opened it. Her sixteen-year-old sister stood in the hallway, her eyes swollen almost shut from crying, her face wet with tears. “What are you doing here?”

  “I didn’t know where else to go. Can I come in?”

  “What? Of course you can come in. My God, look at you. You’re a mess.” Casey led her sister toward the living room sofa, tossing the bright green pillows to the floor and sitting down beside her, her fingers reaching out to smooth the tangle of hair away from her face. “What’s going on? I thought you were in New York.”

  “I was. I went home for the weekend.” She looked up at Janine. “You must be Janine. Sorry to barge in on you this way.”

  Janine joined them on the sofa. “That’s all right. Are you okay?”

  Drew shook her head back and forth. “No.”

  “What happened?”

  Drew wiped away some stubborn tears. “I hate that stupid school Dad and Alana have me at.”

  “But it’s supposed to be so good,” Casey said. “Much nicer than the one I went to.”

  “I know. It’s ‘the best private school in the country.’ I know, I know. But I hate it there. It’s awful. Everybody’s so damn … studious.” She glanced at the bottle of wine in Janine’s hand. “Can I have some of that?”

  “No,” Casey said. “In case anybody hasn’t told you, sixteen isn’t the legal drinking age in Rhode Island.”

  “Come on, Casey.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  A slight pause, then, “I got into a little trouble at school.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Nothing serious. They caught me smoking dope in the teachers’ parking lot.”

  “Smoking dope? Drew!”

  “Casey, please. Spare me the lecture. I’m tired. I’ve been traveling all day.” She glanced down at her dirt-streaked Windbreaker. “God, I’m a mess.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve been traveling all day? How did you get here?”

  “I hitchhiked.”

  “You hitchhiked? Are you nuts? Don’t you know the number of crazies out there? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

  “Casey,” Janine warned under her breath. “Lighten up.”

  Casey took a deep breath. “Okay. Sorry. No more lectures. Just tell me what happened.”

  “I got suspended.”

  Casey bit down on her lower lip to keep from yelling “Suspended!”

  “Just for a week. It’s no big deal. Anyway, I decided I might as well go home.”

  “And what? Dad and Alana gave you a hard time?”

  “Hardly.”

  “They weren’t upset?”

  “They weren’t there.”

  Casey tried to remember her parents’ travel schedule. As far as she knew, they were in Philadelphia. “Wouldn’t the housekeeper let you in?”

  “She wasn’t there either.”

  “Nobody was there?”

  “Oh, somebody was there, all right,” Drew said. “A very nice couple named Lyle and Susan McDermott. Apparently they bought the house several months ago.”

  Casey was confused. “You went to the house on Brynmaur Avenue?”

  “Of course I went to the house on Brynmaur Avenue. That’s where we were living last time I checked.”

  “But Dad sold that house months ago.”

  “You knew?”

  “You didn’t?”

  “How would I know? Nobody ever tells me anything. I just get shuffled off to boarding school, and when I decide to come home, I discover my parents have sold the fucking house right out from under me, and moved away without saying a word. Who does that sort of thing? Who moves and doesn’t tell their kids? Oh, I forgot,” she cried. “They told you.”

  “I’m sure they thought they told you, too.”

  “Where the hell are they anyway?”

  “They bought a smaller house close to the golf course. Smaller being a relative term,” Casey added, picturing the ten-thousand-square-foot showcase her parents had moved into on Old Gulph Road. “I’m really sorry, Drew. I just assumed you knew.”

  “Yeah, well, next time, don’t assume. I could really use a hit of that wine.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Casey,” Janine urged, handing Drew the bottle. “One sip won’t kill anyone.”

  Drew took a long swallow before Casey could object. “Okay, Drew, that’s enough,” she said finally, when it looked as if Drew might chugalug the whole thing down.

  “Can you believe people like that?” Drew asked Janine, kicking off her sneakers and bringing her knees up around her chest, then rocking back and forth. “Would your parents do something like that?”

  “My parents divorced when I was seven,” Janine replied evenly. “My father never paid a dime in child support, despite the fact he had a good job and a steady income. My mother kept taking him to court, but it never did any good. Then he got married again and had another family, and the court forgave what he owed us and reduced the amount he was supposed to pay my mother every month, which of course he didn’t pay anyway. So my mother was forced to work three jobs, which meant I hardly ever saw her, and then she got too sick to work, and she died of cancer three months before her forty-seventh birthday.” Janine downed what was left of the wine in the bottle.

  “You never told me any of tha
t,” Casey said to Janine later, Drew snoring peacefully on the sofa. “That must have been so hard for you.”

  “You know what they say, don’t you? Life’s a bitch.” Janine flashed her most beatific smile. “And then you die.”

  “So, what happens now?” one of the doctors asked as Janine literally vanished into thin air, leaving only her smile behind, like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland.

  “Well, she seems to be breathing quite nicely on her own,” Dr. Ein said with obvious relief as Casey returned to the present, “so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Casey pictured the doctor shaking his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  TEN

  “… Miracle she didn’t die,” a voice was saying. “If I were a betting man, I’d have wagered her chance of survival at less than ten percent.”

  “She’s a fighter, all right,” a second voice confirmed.

  Casey fought back the wave of panic she always felt upon awakening to total darkness. Would she ever get used to it? Would she ever get used to waking up to strange voices talking above her head, commenting on her appearance and condition as if she were an inanimate object? As if she were nothing more than a piece of still life, she thought. Decorative, undemanding, consigned to an appropriate place, to be glanced at and dusted regularly.

  Except that someone had wanted her life stilled altogether.

  “When they first asked me to consult, I took one look at her and thought, ‘Consult about what? This poor woman’s a goner,’ “the first voice continued. “The extent of her injuries was just so horrific.”

  “Nobody thought she’d make it through that first night,” the second voice concurred. Warren, Casey realized, his voice seeping into her subconscious.

  “But she surprised everyone,” the first man said, his deep voice filled with admiration. “And now she’s breathing on her own—”