Missing Pieces

by Joy Fielding

  I replayed the scene with Sara, reliving every detail of what had happened, the shouts, the sarcasm, the slaps, then played it through again, this time with a different script. In this newly edited version, I kept my cool, refused to take the bait, held my temper firmly in check. Whenever Sara tried to suck me in or drag me down, I stepped aside. I simply explained that we knew the truth about where she’d been, and detailed the consequences of her lies. Ultimately Sara saw the error of her ways and accepted responsibility for her acts. We ended the encounter with a tearful embrace.

  How’s that for a fantasy?

  At three o’clock, the doorbell rang. I pushed myself out of bed, and answered it, thinking it must be Larry and wondering why he didn’t use his key. But it wasn’t Larry. It was Jo Lynn. Please let this be another dream, I prayed, taking note of her conservative blue pantsuit and tied-back hair.

  “I’m in disguise,” she said, reading my face. “The reporters are driving me crazy.”

  “Fancy that,” I said, then wished I hadn’t. I had nothing to say to my sister. What was she doing here?

  “You look awful,” she said, stepping inside before I could stop her. “You sick or something?”

  “I had some unexpected surgery this morning,” I answered. What was the matter with me? Could I never keep my mouth shut?

  “Surgery? What kind of surgery?”

  “Just minor.”

  “Yick,” she said, not interested in the specifics.

  “What are you doing here, Jo Lynn?”

  “Uh-oh, you’re mad. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “You’re so perceptive.”

  “You’re so sarcastic. Come on, Kate. Surely you’re not surprised. I’ve been telling you my wedding plans for months.”

  “How could you do it?” I demanded.

  “I love Colin. I think he’s innocent.”

  “I’m not talking about your idiot husband,” I shouted. “I’m talking about my daughter.”

  There was silence. “Colin’s not an idiot,” Jo Lynn said.

  I groaned.

  “So, you like my new name? Jo Lynn Friendly. Has kind of a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  I said nothing.

  “What—you’re not going to talk to me?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a tight-ass, Kate. I needed a maid of honor, you said no, so I asked Sara, and she graciously agreed. It was a joyous occasion, for God’s sake. A wedding.”

  “A wedding that took place behind bars.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

  “You expressly went against my wishes.”

  “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

  I took a deep breath. The last thing I needed now was a fight with my sister. “What are you doing here, Jo Lynn?” I asked again.

  “I’m looking for our mother.”

  I glanced toward the family room. Our mother was sitting in exactly the same position in which I’d left her hours earlier. She hadn’t moved, even at the sound of Jo Lynn’s voice. “Mom?” I asked, walking quickly toward her.

  On the television, an impossibly good-looking young couple were arguing about their father’s impending remarriage on one of the daytime soaps. Our mother seemed to be watching, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her feet placed firmly on the floor. Her eyes were open and her jaw slack, a small spittle of drool trickling toward her chin.

  “Is she dead?” Jo Lynn asked, leaning over me as I leaned over our mother.

  “Mom?” I asked, holding my breath, touching her shoulder.

  Her eyes flickered briefly, then closed. The breath in my lungs escaped with a relieved whoosh. I gently wiped the drool from her face, then backed into Jo Lynn’s arms. I quickly extricated myself, stepped aside. “She’s asleep.”

  “She sleeps with her eyes open?”

  “She drifts in and out.”

  “Creepy.”

  I reached for the remote-control unit, about to turn off the TV.

  “Don’t do that,” Jo Lynn squealed. “That’s Reese and Antonia. Their father is about to remarry his second wife, who they’ve always hated because she’s a former stripper who once tried to kill them by setting their house on fire. But she’s okay now. She went back to school, became a psychiatrist. You got any coffee?”

  I flipped off the TV. “No.”

  “Then make some.” Jo Lynn plopped herself down on one of the wicker chairs in the breakfast nook. “You know you’re dying for a cup.”

  She was right. I walked to the kitchen and did as I was told.

  “It’s amazing what goes on on some of these soaps,” Jo Lynn said without a trace of irony. She nodded toward our mother. “So, what’s the old girl’s prognosis?”

  “So far, the doctors haven’t found anything physically wrong with her,” I said, too weary to do anything but let this visit run its course. “How’d you know she was here?”

  “I tried her apartment and was told the number was no longer in service. So I checked with Mrs. Winchell.”

  “Why the sudden interest in our mother?”

  “I can’t be interested?”

  I shrugged, watched the coffee as it dripped into the glass pot.

  “So, aren’t you going to ask me what it was like behind the watercooler?” Jo Lynn squirmed in her seat.

  “No,” I said.

  “Come on, you’re dying to know.”

  “No, you’re dying to tell me. There’s a difference.”

  “It was fabulous,” she said. “Well, maybe not fabulous in the technical sense. I mean, it was pretty cramped behind there and we were pretty rushed, but that made it all the more exciting, in a way. You just know that under the proper circumstances, Colin is a dynamite lover.”

  What was taking the coffee so long? I wondered, my eyes widening, willing the coffeemaker to pick up speed.

  “You think we should wake the old girl up?” Jo Lynn asked.

  “What for?”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  “What for?” I repeated.

  “Do I need your permission to talk to my own mother?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that anything anybody says to her goes in one ear and out the other.”

  “Maybe,” Jo Lynn said.

  “Not maybe. That’s the way it is. I’m the one who’s with her all the time. I’m the one who talks to her.”

  “Maybe you’re not saying anything very interesting.”

  I sighed, shook my head. She was probably right. “Can I ask what it is you want to talk to her about?”

  Jo Lynn pursed her lips, twisted her mouth from side to side, as if weighing the pros and cons of taking me into her confidence. “I guess I can tell you since it was your idea in the first place.”

  “My idea?”

  “About going to law school.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve thought a lot about what you said, and I’ve decided it might not be such a crazy idea after all.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I do listen to what you say, you know,” she told me. “Occasionally.”

  “And you’ve decided you want to go back to school,” I repeated numbly. Surely, this conversation wasn’t really taking place. Surely, I was back in bed, the covers up around my ears, my insides cramping to protest the surprise pruning of internal weeds. On Saturday, my sister had married a serial killer; today, she was applying for law school. Fantasies had given way to hallucinations. I was as nutty as the rest of my family.

  “I think you were right,” Jo Lynn was saying. “It’s the only way I can really help Colin, get him out of that terrible place.”

  “It won’t be easy,” I warned her.

  “I know it won’t be easy. First, I have to finish my degree.”

  “First you have to apply.”

  “I know that,” she said impatiently. “But I’m determined, and you know what I’m like when I’m determined.”


  “It means at least five years of school.”

  “Do I have anything better to do?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “What’s your problem?” she asked. “You’re the one who suggested it, who made it sound like such a great idea.”

  “It is a great idea.”

  “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  “I am. It’s just that …”

  “You’re still mad at me because of Sara.”

  “You don’t give people a lot of time to catch their breath.”

  “Part of my charm.” Jo Lynn looked toward our mother. “So, think she’ll spring for it?”

  I reached into the cupboard, grabbed two mugs, filled them with freshly brewed, steaming-hot coffee. “Spring for what?”

  “The tuition.”

  I handed Jo Lynn her mug, sipped gingerly from my own, the steam searing my eyelashes shut.

  “What’s the matter? You don’t think she’ll give me the money?”

  I opened my eyes. “I’m not sure she has the money to give.”

  Jo Lynn jumped to her feet, hot coffee from her mug spilling over the back of her hand. She didn’t seem to notice. “What are you talking about? Of course she has money.”

  “Most of what she had is gone,” I tried to explain. “Her medical expenses will probably eat up the rest.”

  “Goddamn her anyway. She couldn’t just die?”

  “Jo Lynn!”

  She was pacing now, turning in small circles between the table and the kitchen counter. “Oh, spare me your righteous indignation. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought the same thing.”

  I was about to protest, but didn’t. The truth was that there had been times over the last number of weeks when I thought death might have been kinder, for all of us.

  “What about you and Larry?”

  “What?”

  “You said you’d loan me the money, that I could pay you back when I was raking in the dough. Didn’t you mean it?”

  I hesitated.

  She pounced. “You didn’t mean it, did you? It was just one of those things you say to make you feel good about yourself, but you have no intention of actually doing.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Will you loan me the money or won’t you?”

  “Hold on a second,” I said, trying to slow things down. “Aren’t we moving a little fast here? What’s the urgency?”

  “Why wait? I want to get the ball rolling.”

  “This is very implusive,” I told her. “Are you sure you’ve thought it all through?”

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. It was your suggestion that I go to law school. I’m taking you up on it. I thought you’d be thrilled. I’m finally going to do something with my life. I’m finally going to amount to something. Or is that the problem? Are you so used to being the omnipotent older sister that you don’t really want me to succeed?”

  I downed the contents of my mug, felt my throat sting. When had this conversation become about me? “Look,” I began. “You’ve caught me off guard, and this probably isn’t the best time to be asking for favors in any case. Leave it with me for a few days. I’ll discuss it with Larry when I think the time is right.”

  “Who are you kidding? The time will never be right.” In the next second, Jo Lynn was on her way to the front door. “I don’t understand,” she said, waving her hands in frustration. “I mean, what is it you want from me?”

  I stood there helplessly as the door slammed in my face.

  Chapter 27

  I’m thinking of going to South Carolina next week,” Larry said, as we lay side by side on our backs in bed, hands folded across our stomachs, not touching, staring at the ceiling fan whirring gently overhead.

  “To see your mother?”

  “That, and to play golf. My brother called, invited me up for a few days. Invited us, actually.”

  “I can’t go,” I said quickly.

  “I told him I didn’t think you’d be able to make it.”

  “It’s a bad time,” I said. “There’s just too much going on.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  I heard the disappointment in his voice, ignored it. “But you can go. You haven’t seen your family in a while. I’m sure your mother would be thrilled.”

  “I think I will go,” he said, after a pause.

  “I think it would be good,” I said. “Have you given any thought to Jo Lynn’s request?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Nope.”

  “You don’t think you’re being just a tad shortsighted?”

  “Nope.”

  I took a deep breath, released it slowly, louder than was necessary.

  “Look, Kate. After the stunt she pulled, I’m not prepared to give your sister the time of day, let alone the kind of money she’s talking about.”

  “It’s not a gift. It’s a loan.”

  “Sure. Like she’s actually going to go through with five years of college. Like I’m actually going to see the money again.”

  “I know we’d be taking a big chance,” I agreed, “and, at first, I thought it was ridiculous too, but then I thought about it some more, and I thought that maybe it’s not so ridiculous, that maybe this time she might actually pull it off, and I am the one who suggested it, who gave her the idea in the first place, who gave it the big buildup, convinced her she could do it.”

  “That doesn’t make you responsible, Kate,” Larry said. “You are not your sister’s keeper.”

  “I just think it might be her last chance.”

  “If she really wants to go to law school, let her get a job and pay for it herself. There are lots of people out there putting themselves through college.”

  “I know, but …”

  “Look, Kate, I know she’s your sister, and that you’d like to help her out, and I won’t stop you. I mean, if you have the money and you want to give it to her, there’s nothing I can do, but don’t ask me to contribute. I can’t, and I won’t.”

  “Fine,” I said. But it wasn’t.

  “You know what amazes me?”

  Larry’s question was rhetorical. It didn’t require an answer.

  “What amazes me is how easily you let yourself get sucked in. She does it to you every time. One minute, you’re so mad at her, you never want to see her again; the next minute, you’re ready to give her the moon.”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “She’s a flake. She always has been. The difference is that now she’s a dangerous flake.”

  “Dangerous?”

  “Yes, dangerous. Women who flirt with serial killers are misguided; women who marry them are crazy; women who involve their teenage nieces in their craziness are dangerous.”

  “I just thought if there was anything I could do to help her …”

  “There isn’t. You can’t.” He sat up, leaned on one elbow toward me. “Kate, you know as well as I do that you can never pull people like Jo Lynn up. They can only drag you down.”

  He leaned over to kiss me. I turned my head away, flipped over onto my side, faced the window.

  “Well, in another week, I’ll be out of your hair,” he said sadly, flopping back down. “You’ll have a few days on your own to decide what you want to do.”

  He didn’t say about what. He didn’t have to. We both understood what he meant.

  The next day, I picked up the phone and called Robert, told him of Larry’s plans. We agreed to meet the following Saturday. At the Breakers, we concurred. A room with an ocean view.

  The letter arrived within minutes of Larry leaving for the airport. I stared at it for several seconds without opening it, puzzled by the unfamiliar handwriting, the lack of a return address. I carried it into the kitchen, cutting my finger on the envelope as I carelessly ripped it open, watched as a tiny drop of blood stained the page.

  Well, I guess it’s official now, dear Katie, the letter began. We’re family.
/>
  My eyes shot to the bottom of the plain white piece of paper, my hands shaking, my heart pounding. Love, Colin was scribbled with obscene clarity across the bottom of the page.

  “No!” I cried, eyes returning in growing horror to the main paragraph.

  Well, I guess it’s official now. We’re family, I read again, forcing myself to continue. Kissing cousins, you might say. I got to admit I like the sound of that. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how sorry I was that you couldn’t make the wedding, but wanted to let you know that Sara did you real proud. That older girl of yours is really something. Why, she’s as sweet as the first strawberry in spring.

  My eyes filled with angry tears. I wiped them away, continued reading.

  I know I’m not one of your favorite people, Katie girl, but you ‘re sure one of mine. One day, I hope to prove that to you. In the meantime, just know I’m thinking about you. Love, Colin

  “No, no, no, no!” I shouted with increasing ferocity, ripping the letter into as many pieces as my shaking fingers could manage, watching the tiny scraps of paper fall to the tile floor, like flakes of confetti, realizing only too late what I’d done, immediately down on my hands and knees, trying to gather the pieces together, giving up moments later in disgust. “Great,” I moaned. “Just great. That was really smart.” I took a deep breath. Talk about destroying the evidence. How could I call the police now? Instead, I called my sister.

  “You gave him our address?” I declaimed as soon as I heard her voice.

  “He said he wanted to try one more time to make amends,” Jo Lynn explained.

  I told her what the letter said.

  “I think that’s so sweet,” she said. “What’s the matter with you, Kate? He’s trying so hard. Can’t you give him a chance?”

  I hung up the phone, more resigned than surprised. She called right back.

  “Have you decided whether or not you’re going to lend me the money for law school?” she asked, as I shook my head in disbelief.

  “I haven’t talked to Larry yet,” I lied.

  “Why not?”

  Were we actually having this conversation? “He had to go out of town for a few days. He’ll be back Monday. I’ll talk to him then.”