Rachel's Folly

by Bruno, Monica

  ONE

  IT HAD BEEN A LONG DAY. The vet’s office was quiet, with the exception of some whimpering coming from a couple of restless dogs in their kennels. It was late afternoon and Sara was busy finishing up her shift at work. Almost all the other employees were gone, aside from a technician running lab tests in the back.

  Sara had hardly slept the night before, tossing and turning in her bed, replaying what Ben had told her at the coffee shop. Could it really be true? she wondered. She mechanically went through the motions of taking out the trash and cleaning the animal cages without any real conscious thought.

  Typically, this was her favorite part of her workday. With the office empty, she had time to be alone with the animals. Any other day, she would have stopped to pet the dogs and cats and sneak them some extra treats, but she was too distracted now, thinking about James. To believe he had lied to her for so long; had she really been that big of a fool? The thought felt alien. At first, she tried brushing Ben off as a crazy man. But his sincerity and conviction reminded her of her own when she defended James’s character to Rachel. As much as Sara didn’t want to believe Ben’s theory, it did actually start to make sense that James could have been living a double life. It explained his many sudden trips out of town, the important business calls he had to take in another room, and why he hardly ever picked up when she called. It would also explain why he freaked out that time he left his wallet by his bed and she picked it up to look at it. He had yelled at her to give it to him and rushed to grab it before she could open it. But even accepting the fact that James had lied to her, she still couldn’t believe he was capable of something as heartless as killing Rachel. That, she knew, couldn’t be true. There was no way James could kill someone. Sara figured Ben just couldn’t accept that his sister had committed suicide. Desperate to find any other explanation, James’ lies were all Ben needed to feed his suspicions.

  When Sara finished with the cages, she fetched the bucket and mop and started cleaning the floors. She slowly moved from the exam rooms to the lobby, while the local evening news was airing softly on the television overhead.

  Oscar was sitting on top of the lobby counter and meowed loudly at Sara as she passed. He was a rescued cat, brought in as a kitten, badly abused, burned and with a wounded eye. Dr. Gordon treated him and took him in, letting him live at the office. Oscar usually kept to himself and hid under the desk for most of the day, but he would come out for Sara. She had a way with animals. She knew her special ability to connect with them all was the only thing that kept her from getting fired. She didn’t have a lot of respect from her coworkers. Her defiant attitude, inability to follow procedure, and frequent tardiness made her a kind of pariah in the small office. But she was the first person they would call on, inevitably, if an animal needed calming down. Even the most vicious dogs with a history of biting grew quiet and still after spending just a few moments with Sara.

  She kept on mopping the floor, ignoring Oscar’s calls, when the reporter’s words turned her attention directly to the TV. A man who had driven his car off a cliff in West Austin was in critical condition. Sara was shocked when the news reporter identified the man as Benjamin Mosley. A picture of him flashed on the screen. She felt her stomach drop and a chill run through her entire body. She recognized the hospital the reporter was standing in front of and took note. Baptist Medical, out west.

  When the news segment ended, she turned off the TV, quickly put away the cleaning supplies and rushed to the back of the office. She poked her head into the room and saw the technician sitting at a desk, filling out paperwork. All of the other women who worked at the office would gush whenever he was around, but Sara rarely talked to him. He was a college intern, a ladies man, who used his good looks and charm to manipulate the staff. Sara didn’t like him. He had tried his best to get to know Sara when he first started working there, but quickly learned she wasn’t interested in getting to know anyone.

  She was about to tell him she needed to go, but then changed her mind. Instead, she walked behind him to grab her bag and then turned around to leave.

  He pulled an earbud out of his ear. “Where ya goin’? Is everything okay?” He got up from his chair as Sara rushed out the door, not bothering to answer.

  * * *

  She took the last drag from her cigarette and tossed it on the asphalt, then crushed the butt with her black Converse sneaker. She looked up apprehensively at the building in front of her. It was cold and dark outside, but the parking lot was lit by the many light posts overhead. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and walked briskly into the West Baptist Hospital. Once inside, she waited nervously, biting her nails as the woman behind the information desk talked on the phone and signaled that she would be with Sara shortly. Sara noticed the nametag pinned to her blouse, which had her picture and her name, Maggie, written on it under the word “volunteer.”

  Sara took in a deep breath and held it for a moment. She hated hospitals, which was ironic considering where she worked, but animals, as a whole, were easier. Something about the sterile smell disturbed her; it made her think of death. Some of her most terrifying nightmares took place in hospitals. She was usually being chased down a long, narrow hall by a faceless murderer holding a cleaver and she wouldn’t be able to move her feet because they were too heavy to lift off the floor. She tried to shake the thought from her mind.

  “How can I help you?” Maggie asked with a forced smile.

  “I’m here to see Ben Mosley,” Sara replied.

  The woman turned to her computer. “Mosley … Mosley.” She peered at the screen through the reading glasses which rested on the tip of her nose. “He’s in the ICU. Are you family?”

  “Yes, I’m his cousin,” she lied without hesitation.

  The woman studied Sara with a dubious look and then said, “Room 324.”

  As Sara walked down the sterile, white halls, she peered into the rooms she passed by. She saw people leaning over patients hooked up to beeping machines. Some of the people were medical staff; others were obviously distraught family members. As she passed one room, she made eye contact with a thin, older man holding onto a dark brown hat. He stood by a woman in the hospital bed, gripping his hat tightly, his white knuckles screaming. He had tears running down his face. He looked so vulnerable, so broken. Sara wondered if the woman was his wife and if he was afraid she was going to die. She forced herself to look away and continued to search for Ben’s room.

  She was almost at the end of the hall when she found room 324. From the doorway, she saw two people hovering over Ben’s bed. Their backs were facing her, but she could discern that one was a heavyset woman in a black and white dress. There was something familiar about the guy standing next to her, holding one hand on her shoulder. He was much taller than the woman, even with his head lowered. His back was broad and he had a full head of dark brown hair. He turned slightly in the woman’s direction, and that’s when Sara stole a glimpse of his profile. Realizing who he was, she panicked and hid behind a hanging curtain bunched up by the door.

  The man standing over Ben was James. Oh my God. How long has it been? she wondered. She closed her eyes and felt sick to her stomach. For months, not a single day went by that she didn’t think of him, dream of him, hope for some kind of contact. Up until her meeting with Ben, she had rehearsed all the things she wanted to say to James if she ever saw him again. She fantasized that he would offer some plausible explanation as to why he had left her, and after some staged resistance on her part, they would get back together. But now, less than eight feet away, she couldn’t face him; she couldn’t even breathe.

  “Lead us not into temptation,” the woman said loudly. “May the Lord bless this meditation. May He forgive his sins, and let his soul find salvation.”

  Sara glanced at her feet and realized that the bottoms of her legs were exposed, not covered by the curtain. She quickly, quietly moved behind the door so they couldn’t see her. She was now crammed between th
e open door and the wall. She looked behind her and was relieved to find that she could still see them through a slight crack in the door, just wide enough to include most of a tall mirror to the right of Ben’s bed. It gave Sara an even clearer shot of the room. She slowly slid down the wall to sit on the floor, trying to make herself as small as possible. She watched intently, her senses heightened from the fear of being caught.

  Sara saw James grab the lady’s hand and hold it for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mosley. You’ve been through so much already,” he said in a low, consoling voice.

  They stood and stared at Ben’s unconscious body. Even from her vantage point, Sara could see Ben’s face was severely swollen. His head was wrapped in gauze, and he was hooked up to an IV and a breathing machine that forced his chest to expand and contract. His left leg was in a full cast up to his hip.

  “Just pray for him,” Mrs. Mosley said. “Only Jesus knows why these things happen.” Sara watched her place something soft and green on the table next to her son. What was it? She couldn’t make it out. “My prayer group is coming later tonight and the pastor from the hospital is supposed to join us. Benjamin is strong. He’ll be okay. And if he doesn’t make it, he’ll still be okay. I’ll pray to Jesus to forgive him for his sins. In my heart, I know God is testing me. But my faith is stronger than ever.”

  “Do you want me to get you anything?” James asked as he patted her shoulder lightly.

  “No, no. You stay here. I need to use the ladies’ room and I’m also going to look for a doctor to see if anyone can give me an update. I’ll be back.” She grabbed her purse from the chair nearby and walked towards the door. Sara saw her coming towards her and felt her presence as she approached. She held her breath as Mrs. Mosley exited the room.

  Her heart was now beating hard; she could actually hear it through her ears and wondered if James would hear it, too. She looked into the mirror more attentively and watched him. She saw him clench his jaw, a tick she used to playfully tease him about.

  He was now standing close to Ben. He glanced at the door and Sara immediately pulled back, fearing he had spotted her. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. When she glanced back at the mirror, she could see that James had turned away and pulled the chair over to Ben’s bedside. He hadn’t seen her. She slowly, quietly breathed a sigh of relief. James sat down with his back to Sara. She stared at it, and remembered the many times she would rest her head on his bare back after they made love. She would become entranced by the sound of his breathing. She knew everything about it. The hard sculpted muscles, the smooth freckled skin.

  Ben’s eyes were swollen shut. His chest rose and fell calmly with the help of the ventilator. The beeping of the machines was the only sound in the room. Sara wondered how long she could stay behind the door without being detected. Mrs. Mosley was sure to come back at any time with a nurse, or a pastor, or some holy water. It could be a matter of minutes, seconds, maybe. How would she explain herself?

  Just then, James leaned closer to Ben’s face. Sara heard him whisper. “Why did you have to go and be a hero?” He said, “You just couldn’t let things go. And see where it’s gotten you? You look pretty bad, man.” He glanced back at the door for a second, and then continued. “I guess Ed’s car was a little too much for you, huh? And you know what? He says even if you do somehow manage to pull through this, you’ll likely be a vegetable.” James shook his head and made a tsk tsk sound by sucking his teeth. “It’s such a shame, really. It didn’t have to be like this, if you had just minded your own business.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. She pressed herself up against the wall behind her.

  “And your poor dog!” James continued. “Little guy smashed his head on the windshield. What a mess.”

  Holy hell! He’s a total psycho, Sara thought. She looked at the open doorway, wondering if she could sneak out. But if James saw her leave, he’d surely come after her. Sara bunched her knees to her chest, holding them tight, hoping this stillness would carry over to her breathing.

  Suddenly, a nurse did walk in, but she was so preoccupied with the chart in her hand, she didn’t even notice Sara. Looking back at the mirror, Sara saw James get up and smile. Sara knew that flirtation so well. How it used to comfort her. But seeing it again induced a bottomless nausea. James’ eyes, which she used to love staring into, were now just menacing. She watched the nurse walk over to the machine by Ben’s bed to take note of the flashing numbers. James moved to the corner on the far side of the room, out of Sara’s view. This was her opportunity. She bolted out of the room, and started running down the hall. She didn’t hear anybody call out to her. She glanced back quickly, but no one, not even a nurse, was coming.

  Free from the hospital walls, she inhaled deeply as soon as the cold air hit her face. When she got to her car, she studied the hospital entrance to make sure James hadn’t followed her out. As she turned the ignition and waited for the motor to warm up, she noticed her hand was trembling like a leaf. James ran Ben off the road, she thought. He could have killed him. What if he really did kill Rachel?

  Sara realized now why Rachel had told her she didn’t know James McNew. Sara didn’t know him either. He didn’t exist; the three-timing psycho Jack, however, did. Any rational person would go straight to the police and tell them everything she just witnessed, but not Sara, not willingly at least. She already had a bad track record and knew they would ask too many questions. And who would believe her, anyway? Shaking herself from her thoughts, she backed out of the parking space and prayed the cold engine wouldn’t stall.

  TWO

  SARA DIDN’T GO TO WORK the next few days, preferring instead to spend her time locked in her bedroom. She was disoriented and furious that she had been played for such a fool. She was dying to tell someone about Jack running Ben off the road, but who could she tell? She had burned so many bridges in the past, and most people, including her parents, shrugged her off like background noise.

  Her grandmother would frequently knock on her door and ask if she was okay, tell her she needed to eat something, get outside, take a shower. Sara could tell that her grandmother was worried about her and was probably going to call Sara’s father to intervene. Normally, the thought of having any drawn-out conversation with her dad was enough to motivate her to do anything her grandmother wanted. Not anymore. She just didn’t care.

  On Sunday morning, after her grandmother left for church, Sara forced herself to get dressed and drive to Rachel’s house. She had been up all night thinking about who she could tell about Jack. She thought about writing an anonymous note to the police but quickly dismissed the idea as foolish. She thought about telling Rachel’s friend Elena, but Jack was her husband, and she would probably think she was just some crazy kid. She decided that Rachel’s husband might be the only person who would believe her.

  She found Dr. Richards’ address in the phonebook and had no trouble locating his big, red brick house on a suburban hill overlooking the city. She parked her car across the street a couple of houses up from his. She sat for a while and thought about how she should tell Dr. Richards what she overheard Jack say to Ben in the hospital. She hardly ever came to this side of town. There was never any reason to. She noticed how perfectly manicured all the lawns were, how flawless this street appeared. It seemed like the perfect neighborhood, with perfect neighbors and perfect families.

  She was in her car for about five minutes when she suddenly saw the garage door open. A little boy on a bicycle came out, followed closely by an older woman with silver hair and red-rimmed glasses. They headed in Sara’s direction, but didn’t seem to notice her car. Then Sara saw a man who she assumed was Dr. Richards walk out behind them. He was handsome, but his eyes were vacant and he looked tired. He closed the garage and slowly trailed the boy and the woman, staying several paces behind them. He walked with his head down, his gaze fixed on the sidewalk and his hands in his pockets. He looked distraught and reminded Sara of the broken man holding the brown hat she saw in th
e hospital the night she went to see Ben. Through all of this, she had never given much thought to what Rachel’s family was going through. It dawned on her now that Jack hadn’t just ruined her life, he had ruined many lives. She also realized she didn’t have the courage to tell Dr. Richards what she knew. She felt so small, so insignificant. She was nobody to him. Why should he believe her? Sara drove back to her grandmother’s house feeling worse than before.

  Later that afternoon, she found herself sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the door. She felt drained and was tired of crying, tired of feeling so low and meaningless. Without thinking, she opened a drawer and unfastened a safety pin, her old go-to—the habit she thought she had packed away during her sessions with Rachel. Pulling back her shirtsleeve, she pressed the sharp end into her skin and dragged it across the inside of her arm. She could feel the sting, and it comforted her. The burning sensation blurred out her own insignificance, as well as Jack. She cut herself a few more times until she felt somewhat satisfied.

  When she was done, she put the safety pin back in the drawer. It was not enough. In the bottom drawer, she discovered some old clippers and a large pair of scissors. She figured they had probably belonged to her late grandfather. She stood and inspected herself in the mirror. She hated the person who looked back at her. She was just a stupid punk who never fit in. All the other kids had normal families. With parents that showed up for school plays or picked them up from the nurse’s office when the school called to let them know they were sick. All the other moms cared about their kids’ grades, who their friends were, if they had eaten dinner. They didn’t spend their days locked away in their bedroom, in a self-induced intoxicated coma. Or just leave, without a word. What would life have been like if she had had a mother who was actually there? Or a father who was more interested in his daughter than in what others might think of his wife? As much as her father tried to hide her mother’s behavior, he was also her enabler, making sure the house never lacked enough bottles of her favorite vodka. Now, her father had found a new wife, had started a new life. Sara was nothing but a thorn in his side. She wished she was someone else. Anyone else.