Paint Chips

by Susie Finkbeiner

  Cora – 19

  I lay on my bed, Stewart’s blood still on my hands and clothes. No one had seen me go in or out of his room. What I’d seen had exhausted me. It seemed that choosing life drained my energy. So I just put my head on the pillow and rested. I dreamed without sleeping. The images that moved through my mind were vivid, color-soaked daydreams. Painful images. I remembered things, long ago tucked into the back of my memory.

  My mother, lifeless and cold, in her bed.

  Titus, face stained black from coal dust, his chest torn open by lead.

  Marlowe, body bleeding, screaming for me to get away.

  My father, rage contorting his face, hate seeping from his pores.

  And then I saw Steven, knocking on my window in a rainstorm, offering to help me. He was the one person in the world who protected me. And yet his body, blown to pieces, spread among the desert sand, could no longer offer security. His dog tags were the only thing left of him.

  Pete, his eyes were so green. I’d forgotten. They’d stayed closed for so long I couldn’t remember the sparkle of them.

  Dot’s crying. She found me after I lost hold of myself. She screamed. So loud and so long. Terrified by me. Her own mother.

  How had all of that happened in my life? I couldn’t understand what I did to deserve such wrath from God. He punished and hurled pain at me, but never once grabbed hold of me to pull me back up. After His anger was spent, He left me with so little.

  And yet He wanted me to live for Him. Hadn’t He said that? But what did I have to offer Him with my life?

  I had nothing left, save for Dot, the only one who survived being around me. But I didn’t know where she lived. My only hope was for her safety. Her happiness.

  My memory took me to her laugh, her smile. The way she danced around the house, swirling her skirt and singing songs about Jesus, warmed my heart. She mourned her father so deeply. And then she mourned her brother. Her eyes were so red, so sore from crying. I couldn’t bring the laughing dancer back to my daughter’s heart.

  From my bed I prayed. A stumbling pleading to God. I couldn’t think the words loud enough to reach His ears, so I mumbled them.

  “I know You want me to live for You. I have no idea why You want me. But I feel like You do. I don’t know how. I’m just too far gone to change my life now. But I beg You to take my daughter. Take care of her and keep her safe. Let her be loved. And let her forget about me. Give her someone who can become her family.”

  I gagged, grief forcing its way out. The tears felt good. Releasing the sorrow lightened my load, if only slightly.

  I got out of bed, removed all the blood-stained clothes, and tried to rub the red off my hands and feet. I put on a long-sleeve shirt to hide the fresh cuts.

  No longer did I doubt that I would survive. I’d made it to that point. Life would continue on, and I would ride the waves of the storm. Somehow I knew that God spoke to me in Stewart’s room. I needed nothing else.

  Dot – 20

  “I’m starving,” Paul said, pulling out of the college parking lot. “Have you eaten dinner?”

  “We have not,” Lola answered.

  “Do you like burgers? It’s on my mom and dad,” he said. “They won’t mind.”

  “That would be lovely. Thank you,” Lola said.

  Paul took us to a drive-thru only a few miles from the campus. He ordered our food, passing a burger and fries back to me.

  “What a Good Samaritan,” Lola said, hungry and yet trying to eat like a lady.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. “I think a real Good Samaritan would have taken the two of you to a nice steak house or something.”

  “Well, I think this is very nice, indeed. Don’t you, Dorothea?”

  “Dorothea?” Paul asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “Gosh, I guess I was so busy with your van I forgot to ask your name. Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” I answered. “Thank you very much, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome.” He looked back and forth between my reflection and the road. “It’s kind of funny. I used to know a Dorothea.”

  “Huh. I used to know a Paul.” His attention caught me off guard. He looked at me in a different way. Not how I was used to men looking at me. He looked at me without lust, without expectation.

  “Everybody knows at least one Paul. We seem to be everywhere.”

  He turned his head and smiled at me.

  For the rest of our trip, Lola and Paul carried on with different streams of conversations. I couldn’t keep up with the pace of their discussion. Exhausted from the day, I snoozed for the second half of the drive.

  ~*~

  I woke up when the car changed direction. Paul backed up into a driveway. Sitting up, groggy and disoriented, I looked out the window. We weren’t at Lola’s house, but the neighborhood looked strangely familiar.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked, looking up and down the street.

  “Paul needed to do a few things at his parent’s house before dropping us off,” Lola answered.

  “It’ll only take a minute,” Paul said, putting the car into park. “But come on in and meet my parents. They’d kill me if I didn’t introduce you.”

  We climbed out of our seats and into the brisk air. My heart fluttered and I gasped for breath. I looked across the street at my childhood home.

  “Paul, what’s your last name?” I asked him.

  “West,” he answered.

  Paul West. Pete’s best friend. Our neighbor. His family watched out for us through the really tough times. I dug my thumbnail into my arm, feeling the small sting of pain. I was awake.

  “This way.” He led us through the open garage door.

  I followed, trying to keep myself together. Trying to calm my nerves and breathe through the panic. Part of me longed to be welcomed back into their family. Another hoped they wouldn’t recognize me. I feared the questions they might ask.

  “Mom, Dad! I have a couple people with me!” Paul’s voice sounded through the house.

  “Oh, good. Do they need food?” a woman’s voice called from another room.

  “Nope. You bought us burgers.”

  “That’s nice of us. I’ll be right there.” After only a moment, Paul’s mother entered the room.

  Mrs. West. She looked almost exactly the same. The warm caramel tint of her hair, her welcoming smile, the brightness of her eyes, were all as I remembered.

  “Oh,” she gasped as she looked at Lola and me. “Paul, where did you find them?”

  “They were visiting the college and had some car trouble. They live downtown. I’m giving them a ride home.”

  She walked closer to us. I was quivering.

  “Norman!” she called, her voice full of urgency. “You need to come down here!”

  “Mom, are you okay?” Paul asked.

  She touched my face. “I just never thought I’d see the two of you again.”

  “You remember me?” I whispered, a tear dropped from my eye.

  “How could I ever forget you, Dot?”

  “Dot?” Paul said. “Oh my word! Dot!”

  “You really remember me?”

  Mrs. West turned to Lola.

  “And you. All you’ve been through.”

  Lola looked confused. I must have, too. She looked at me, a little concerned.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t believe that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before.” She smiled warmly. “But I have been told that I have a familiar face. Some kind of hippie meets grandmother.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t Dot’s mom?” Mrs. West looked at me. “Is she okay? I mean, after the breakdown?”

  I nodded. “My mom’s still in the institution.”

  “Oh, I see. You thought I was Dorothea’s mother.” Lola struggled to put us at ease. “I am not. I haven’t been blessed with children of my own. But Dorothea has been like a daughter to me for the last five years.”

  As Lola spoke, somethi
ng seized my nerves. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then my brain shut off. My body slumped to the floor. And darkness.

  Cora – 21

  Lisa arrived at the same time as the ambulance after Stewart’s body was discovered. One of the nurses must have called her right away. She rushed to the nurses’ station. I heard her voice from my room.

  “Who found him?” she asked.

  “Naomi,” an orderly answered. “She was just checking on him. Guess she had a funny feeling or something.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Not so good.”

  “Has anyone called Dr. Emmert?”

  “Not yet. You were the first person we thought of.”

  “Okay. Could you please give him a call? I’ll start checking in on the residents.”

  I walked into the dayroom as quietly as I could. Ashamed that I’d been in Stewart’s room, I hid behind a large, plastic tree. Lisa sat with Wesley.

  “I don’t know why he would’a did that.” Wesley wept.

  “I don’t understand it either, Wesley.” Lisa cried right along with him.

  “I’m just so sad, Pastor Lisa.”

  Lisa handed him a tissue and looked into his eyes. “I don’t think I will ever know why someone would take his own life. It breaks my heart.”

  “Mine too.” Wesley’s body shook with sobs. “I just want Stewart to come back home.”

  “I know what you mean, Wes. I understand that.” Lisa held Wesley’s large, chocolate-colored hands in her small, cream-colored ones. “I do too. I’m going to miss him. And it’s okay to feel that.”

  “My mama told me one time that anybody who kills theyselves goes straight to hell.” He looked at her with childlike eyes. “Is that true?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I believe that God can have mercy on anyone He wants.”

  “Do you really think so?” He smiled sweetly. “I really hope that’s true. And Stewart wouldn’t have to be so sad all the time. He had a sad life, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He did.”

  “I’m so tired, Pastor Lisa. Crying makes me so sleepy.” Wesley rubbed his eyes. “I think I need to rest for a little bit.”

  “I think that would do you a lot of good, wouldn’t it?” She helped him to his feet. “I’m glad I got to talk with you today. You are a really wonderful person.”

  “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” He walked with her to the hallway that led to his room. “Pray for me, would you? Sometimes I feel like I’ve got nothing going right for me. I don’t want to give up like Stewart did.”

  “I know. I pray for you every day. I promise I’ll keep that up.”

  “Thank you. You’re a real nice lady.”

  The new orderly, a young man with tattoos on his forearms, walked over to Wesley. He reached up to put his skinny arm around the large man.

  “Come on, bud. I’ll help you get into your bed.” The orderly’s voice was gentle and kind.

  Lisa went to Edith next, putting her hand on Edith’s short hair, caressing it. She spoke soft words into Edith’s ear. Then she kissed her on the cheek.

  Lisa looked around the room. She spotted me behind the dusty plant. The look on her face spoke of her concern for me.

  “Cora?” She walked toward me. “Do you feel like talking to me?”

  “I suppose,” I answered.

  She pulled a chair around to my hiding place to sit with me. Her grief mingled with peace created a tangible shift in the air around me. She possessed such conflicting emotions. I feared that the two would react like magnets repelling one another. I couldn’t understand how they coexisted in her soul. Lisa confused me.

  “Are you doing okay?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, ashamed. “I went into Stewart’s room. I closed his eyes.”

  “It was pretty gruesome, wasn’t it?”

  “Horrible.” I held my eyes shut tight to hold back the image of the blood puddle around his body. “But his face was peaceful.”

  “You’ve seen a dead body before, right?”

  “Yes.” I opened my eyes. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

  “Is it?” She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. “Cora, do you remember why you’re here?”

  “Yes. But, I don’t want to talk about it today.” Guilt swept through my body. “It’s just too hard to think about right now.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  She looked at me. She had bags under her eyes.

  “Stewart had a razor blade.” I pulled at my sleeve to cover my wrist.

  “He did?”

  “How could he have gotten it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll make sure the nurses know about that.”

  “Do you think he felt a lot of pain?”

  “I really have no idea.”

  “His face looked so peaceful.” I realized that I repeated myself.

  “I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t know if that should make me feel better or worse.” She tapped her fingertips against her knee. “I have to call his family after we’re done talking.”

  “Have you ever made that kind of call before?”

  “A few times. I always wish I could just go and actually spend time with the family, in person. They’re in Texas.” She looked at me. “I don’t think I could get there, though. It isn’t the kind of thing you want to find out over the phone. Especially the way he died.”

  “I understand.”

  We sat, quiet, for a moment.

  “Wesley asked about suicide sending a person to hell.”

  “He did.”

  “What about other things?”

  “I’m sorry, Cora, I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

  “Well, you said that Jesus has grace, and that He understood Stewart.” I looked at the floor. “If Jesus could have mercy for a man who killed himself, what about other sins?”

  “I believe He is able to forgive any sin.”

  “But what about murder?”

  “Yes, even murder.” She looked at me, concerned. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because of what I did. To him. To my father.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “Don’t you know? I think it’s in my case file.” The words came from my mouth more rapidly then I’d anticipated. “I murdered my father. I killed him. Shot him with a handgun. He found my picture in the newspaper and tracked me down. I didn’t want him to hurt us, so I murdered him.”

  “You shot him, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he was threatening you.”

  “I don’t know.” Suddenly my memory was blocked. “I don’t know. I can’t remember what he said.”

  “Cora, you aren’t a murderer.”

  “But I am. I know that I did it.”

  “You may have killed him, but it wasn’t murder.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because, you’re right, it’s all written in your file.”

  “And what does it say?” I sat on the edge of my chair.

  “That you were defending your kids.”

  “That’s not right, is it?”

  “And you shot him to keep him from hurting your daughter.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. He had a gun.” Lisa’s forehead wrinkled. “That was right before the accident.”

  “Yes. When Pete got hurt.” Small pieces of recollection inched closer together in my mind.

  “Right. And after a year of dealing with everything you had an emotional breakdown. And that’s completely understandable. You lost so much.” She touched my arm. “Do you remember now?”

  “No,” I sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “You suffer from a panic disorder. The stress caused your mind to shut down. That’s why you’re here, Cora.”

  “But he’s dead. Right? My father is dead?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “And I killed him.”

  “Yes. But
not the way you remember it. It was completely unavoidable. It was either him or you and your kids. You did the best you could do.”

  “So, this isn’t jail?” I licked my lips quickly. Suddenly I felt so dry. “I mean, a jail for crazy people?”

  “No, Cora. This is the state hospital. You’re here to get well so one day you can return to living your normal life.”

  “But I’m not getting better.”

  “Actually, you’ve improved quite a bit. It’s happening just a little at a time, but you are getting better. Dr. Emmert told me that when you first came you slept all day. And at night you’d scream and tear your hair out. You were always scratching at your skin. The last few months you’ve made huge progress.”

  “I’m so confused right now.”

  “Sure. I understand. You’ve had a very draining day.”

  “I think I need to rest and think for a while.”

  “Are you going to be okay? Would you like the nurse to give you something to help you sleep?”

  “Yes. I think that’s a good idea.”

  She nodded.

  “Come back tomorrow or the next day. I think I’m ready to tell you about a few things,” I said, weary. Exhausted from fighting to keep my secrets. “And bring pictures of your little baby, if you have a few. I think I remember you said his name was Luke, right?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “People never ask to see his pictures. I think they assume it would be too hard for me. Thank you for wanting to see them.”

  Lisa left after praying for me. A nurse came and gave me several pills to swallow before leading me to my room. I fell asleep on top of my blankets, trying to make sense of Lisa’s words.

  If I wasn’t a murderer then what was I? I’d believed that I was for so long. I was almost certain that I had killed him in cold blood.

  Dot – 22

  I woke up in the Wests’ extra room. Walking to the window, I rubbed my head. It throbbed. I needed coffee.

  Looking out the window, I viewed my old house. The flowerbeds in the front yard had been dug up. The yellow siding painted brown. I didn’t even want to think about all the changes on the inside. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine it the way things were when I was younger. Then another memory took over.