Quincy put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Will, you have to call the police.’
‘The police? What for?’
‘They need to know.’
‘They already know.’
‘They do?’
‘They have to.’
Quincy cocked his head. ‘I’m confused here. How could they know if you just found out, if she just told you?’
‘I’m assuming so, but I’ve made all these assumptions that have caused strife. I really don’t know what the hell happened.’ Will shot back the whiskey in a single gulp.
‘What did she tell you happened? You tell me what she said. What was the context of the confession, because I’m assuming that’s what it was. I’m assuming she confessed to you.’
‘Don’t assume. Don’t assume anything. A confession? No. It wasn’t a confession as much as it was divulging a fact. She said it was easy. She said … she said …’ Will handed Quincy the empty glass.
‘What did she say? If you don’t know what happen to her, then tell me what happened to you.’
Will told Quincy the details of the afternoon, leaving out the more intimate particulars. Maybe today was a dream. Or maybe he’d had a stroke. Or maybe those chest pains he’d had back at the department store had been a heart attack and he was in the hospital on life support, moving toward the light …
Quincy interrupted his gloomy death fantasy. ‘Okay, here’s what we know. Caroline is not married to this abusive joker, Alex. She had a child who died, you told me that weeks ago, and you knew she left her husband. Make sense so far?’
Will nodded.
‘If she was in a mental hospital, maybe she was in there because she was, or is, delusional. She doesn’t seem that way to me, but I thought my son seemed happy before he killed himself. So what the hell do I know? But really, if this is actually true, you don’t think Reg would be close to the niece who murdered her own husband, would he?’
‘She’s his only family so who’s to say? Families can be very forgiving. He’s probably protecting her from Alex,’ Will said, shrugging.
‘Why is Alex angry?’
Will massaged his temples for a moment. ‘Because he’s angry she killed his brother. The two of them had an affair, and she killed his brother. She said she was surprised how easy it was, and when I asked her what she meant she said, killing my husband. Those were her exact words.’
‘Murph, maybe you need to get one of those telescopic gizmos some of your albinism compatriots use because this is a puzzle and you need a few more pieces before you can make out the details and see this picture. Talk to Reginaldi. Call him now. ‘
With a dry laugh, Will said, ‘There’s one important detail I haven’t told you, Quince, something I didn’t make out completely until this afternoon.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I love her.’
Chapter 16
Gray sky. Gray earth. Gray trees. Gray. Gray. Gray. The gray Chicago Wednesday reflected Caroline’s mood: cold, lifeless, dismal.
She’d spent last night at her uncle’s and called in sick, saying she had the flu Stuart had had, and finally went home after rush hour traffic had cleared.
Maybe she didn’t have the flu, but she had some kind of illness, she’d spent the day in her pajamas and slippers because what else did sick people wear? She’d worn pajamas for a long while in Linden Oaks.
It was after three before she got out of bed, and that was only because Batman had tracked dog crap all over the bedspread. She washed Batman, cleaned up the doo-doo tracks, had a shower, and put on clean pajamas. Then she changed the bed linen, and went to survey the mess the dog left outside. Typically, Batman’s poop hardened into little cigars. This time, there was a smelly disaster all over the terrace, thanks to the cat food he’d gobbled at her uncle’s.
She began to hose away the remains of the dog’s waste before William came home, before he checked the laundry he’d left hanging on the line.
He never used the dryer, and always pinned up his wash on the line because he preferred the scent of air-dried clothes. That laundry had to be frozen.
She looked through the holes in the ivy, at the stiff boxer shorts on the clothesline. William’s underwear looked as unyielding as her life had become—again.
After a few minutes of staring at underpants, she adjusted the hose and washed the stinky waste down the drain hole in the terrace floor, wanting to drain away to nothing as well.
When she’d finished, foggy puffs of her warm breath disappeared in the cold air. Wishing her whole life would vaporize the same way as her breath, she began to coil up the length of green rubber tubing. Her feet were soaked, her pink slippers squished noisily. With the hose put away, she stood stock still beside the wrought iron table, and began gazing at William’s boxers through the ivy, again. ‘I am sweet, William, I am sweet,’ she murmured.
‘I know you are, Caroline.’ Leaves moved. Fingers poked through the vines. ‘I know you are,’ William said.
Startled, she squished a step backward.
‘Why did you walk out before I could say anything?’
Caroline couldn’t bring herself to look between the ivy, couldn’t bring herself to catch another glimpse of him or the pale purple shirt he wore. ‘I shocked you,’ she said.
‘You did.’ Will only had a peekaboo view of her. She wore oversized blue and white striped flannel pajamas. He had a pair just like them. ‘It was a shocking thing to hear.’
‘Is that why you had a knife in your hand?’
‘I had what?’
‘You picked up a knife from your desk.’
‘I did what?’ The ivy rustled beneath Will’s hands.
‘I wasn’t going to hurt you, William.’
‘What?’
‘I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. You didn’t have to be afraid of me. You didn’t need a knife for protection. I’m not dangerous.’
‘You didn’t want me to be afraid of you? That’s hilarious. All my life I’ve been an object of fear, people have pointed and stared, gulped in fright, and lately I’ve fostered that, I’ve even liked it, but you didn’t frighten me, and I didn’t have a knife. I sat on a letter opener. It stabbed me in the butt. I may have needed a little take-up time, that’s all. None of it makes any difference, you know. None of it. Everything’s changed. I think it has for you too. Hasn’t it?’
She didn’t say anything.
Will fell silent, peeking at her through the ivy. For a second he wanted to rip the damn structure down with his bare hands. Then he simply moved to where he could see her better.
Caroline squished forward to lean her forehead against the plant-covered lattice. She looked down at her wet feet, and went on talking. ‘All I can do is apologize. I know it’s changed and I’m so sorry. I wish I could have explained things better, or in another way. I was flustered and unprepared for the subject to come up because I honestly thought you knew. I’m sorry I ruined it all, but if you think it’s possible, I hope we can stay friends. You’re a good friend to have. I hope we can get over this … awkwardness.’ She looked through the ivy. ‘William?’ She waited for his reply, but said nothing. He wasn’t there.
His lack of response was brilliantly, frigidly clear and she shivered.
‘I think we could find an alternative to this trellis, don’t you?’
Caroline jerked around, gasping.
‘Look at you.’ He shortened the gap between them. ‘It’s freezing out here and your feet are soaked. How long have you been outside anyway?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Listen to me. It didn’t take me that long to figure out I don’t care. I don’t care what you did, Caroline.’ He took her clenched hand, and with his wide thumb he opened her fingers, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. ‘I couldn’t give a fuck.’
Shivering, she stared at him, different expressions chasing after each other across her face—disbelief, fear, astonishment, bewilderment. ‘William?’
Her saturated feet squished noisily when Will drew her close. Head bent, he fitted his mouth against hers, wanting nothing more than to erase the confusion from her mind. As he kissed her, the chill of her body permeated through his jacket and shirt, her nose a frozen nub against his. ‘You’re so cold,’ he said against her lips. ‘Come on inside. You need to warm up.’ Will pulled her toward the open French door of her bedroom.
Batman laid on the end of her bed, snuggled under a blanket stretched across the bottom, his nose poking out.
That was where she needed to be, under the covers.
With the door closed to the frigid outside air, Will peeled back the bedclothes and sat her on the mattress. He took off her wet slippers and rubbed her feet for a moment. ‘Get in bed,’ he said, and she complied.
He switched on her electric blanket and covered her. As the bed warmed, Will kicked off his black shoes and took off his jacket. He unbuttoned his collar, pulled off his tie, and removed the pale purple shirt she’d chosen for him. His belt and pants followed. He threw the clothes over the footboard. Stripped down to his underwear and socks, he crawled into bed, drawing her into his arms, holding her to his chest. And then he noticed something. ‘Are you wearing my pajamas?’
‘Yes.’
Will laughed. ‘How long have you had them?’
‘Since you went to India.’
‘I knew you missed me.’
‘I missed you so much.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Don’t you want to know what I did?’ she said in a near whisper.
‘I know what happened. We don’t have to talk about it. I talked to your uncle. Reg gave me a clear picture. I had a few things right. Not many, but at least three. Dear God, your hands and feet are like blocks of ice.’ He gathered her feet with his and held them between his ankles. ‘Maybe you should have a hot bath.’
‘You and the blanket are warm enough for me.’
‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What?’ She snuggled into him.
‘I love you.’
‘Yeah, I guessed that.’
‘You did?’
‘M-hm.’
‘When?’
‘You said you couldn’t give a fuck. Fuck’s not exactly the kind of word that suits you. It suits me, but not you. At first I wasn’t sure how you meant it until you kissed me.’ Caroline exhaled something between a laugh and sigh. ‘I never realized how my life could be the basis for an old potboiler, only the Technicolor is a lot more vibrant when it’s actually happening to you. I want you to know. I want you to know me. So I’ll tell you the whole seventy-millimeter, widescreen 3-D version with THX sound and then you can decide if you want to change your mind.’
‘I know you, Caroline. I’m not going to change my mind. You don’t need to tell me anything.’
‘Yes I do.’ She tilted her head to look up over his firm jaw. His eyes were closed. The slight smile on his lips was one of near content. ‘I need to tell you the story, William, so you know me better.’
‘All right.’
Caroline snuggled back under Will’s chin. ‘I did leave Drew, when I was almost ten weeks pregnant. He mentioned the word abortion, and I walked out for an entire week. That’s when I found out how terrified he was of the idea of being a father. Alex helped him sort out a few things, they talked it over, and Drew decided he could adjust, as long as we did it together. So we reconciled and I got bigger and fatter.’
‘I can’t quite imagine you like that.’
‘The picture gets much worse than my ballooning.’
He hugged her closer and stroked her hair. ‘I really don’t need to know anymore. You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t have anything to do with us.’
‘I didn’t get to the good part yet, where things go really apeshit.’ She pulled his palm to her face. ‘Two days after reconciling, we’d gone out to dinner with my parents. The roads were wet. I don’t remember hitting the cement truck. I remember when I woke up in the hospital my parents were dead. I had a few broken ribs, a concussion, but Drew … His pelvis had been crushed, his skull fractured and his right leg sheared off. He was blind. Most of his motor function was gone. He could barely swallow, so eating was difficult. We had to use a fat syringe to feed him small bits of liquid. He babbled, but most of the time he moaned, like a sick baby. Eventually, we took him home because there wasn’t anything else doctors could do. We tried to make him comfortable. His body was shutting down, and I just kept getting bigger.’
She let go of his hand, trembling, and it was different from how she had shivered against him with cold. Will looked down at her. She stared out the French doors. ‘Tell me this later,’ he said. ‘We don’t need to do this now.’
Caroline ignored his suggestion and went on staring, as if she were looking at a movie screen instead of panes of glass in a door. ‘There was a nurse named Jamie who came regularly. She brought us supplies and made sure everything operated properly. She showed us how to monitor things. We learned how to feed Drew, administer glucose or the morphine drip for his pain, and change the catheter for his waste. Somebody had to be there all the time. Alex and I took turns. He moved in and we looked after Drew. I couldn’t sleep. I had horrible dreams about car crashes. I couldn’t get in the car to go to the store because I was afraid I’d have an accident and no one would be there to be with Drew. I couldn’t leave the house because I thought Drew would die if I left home. I had to be there all the time because I thought I the only one who could make him feel better. I didn’t trust anyone else to do it. Other people wanted to help, friends tried to help, but I didn’t want them there.’
‘You shouldered a lot.’ Will said.
‘Alex shouldered more. I pushed everyone away, but he understood. We’d been friends since we were in our twenties. He introduced me to Drew. Alex tried to hold me up and console me. He told me he loved me, said he’d take care of me, offered me comfort and I took it.’
‘It’s understandable.’
‘I suppose. I know now it wasn’t really an affair, it was an escape. It was about trying to find solace from what was happening, even if it was for five minutes. We were all over each other trying to blot it out. Any chance we got, any time we had alone when his mother came over to sit with Drew for an hour, or when Jamie was there, we fucked. Alex and I fucked like rats while his dying brother was in the next room. Drew cried and moaned night and day, I was nearly six months pregnant and Alex and I were screwing to drown out the sound. Then I started bleeding.’
She buried her face in the crook of William’s arm and moaned. She waited for the tears to come, for their hot rush to release the tightness in her throat, but she’d cried so much about Drew and the baby in the past that her body—or her mind—had detached from weeping as a response. All she could do was groan.
‘Caroline. Caroline, hush now,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Don’t think about it anymore. Don’t tell me anymore.’ He slipped his hands down her back.
Caroline moaned again, and withdrew from his arms. ‘I want to finish this. Let me get it out. Please.’
He nodded. ‘All right.’
She shoved hair from her face. ‘For two days I wouldn’t let anyone touch the baby. We stayed in a little room—me and the baby I never gave a name to—and I wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Newborn dead babies don’t really have much of a smell. They don’t have that baby perfume or that sweet milky scent. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘It’s because they haven’t lived long enough to feed, or breathed enough air to acquire that smell of a person. That’s one thing I can’t ever forget. I can get through a day without a painful memory of Drew. I can have no recollection of trying to kill myself, but I can’t block out that my child had no smell. It was Alex who convinced me to let them take my son away so we could bury him near my parents.’ Caroline swallowed a few times, trying to slow down the words that wanted rush from her gullet.
Will rubbed his chin. �
�I’m so sorry,’ he said, searching for something better to say, to soothe her, but everything that came to mind was inadequate.
She ran her tongue across her bottom lip. ‘I know I was in a kind of shock. Everything was such a mess; there was so much to do. I couldn’t sleep—at all. I was given a prescription for sedatives after the baby died. I was depressed. I was anxious. I was angry. I believed Drew had smashed my dad’s car into that cement truck on purpose so we wouldn’t have a baby, and I hated him for it. I said that to people who came to visit. I said Drew wanted the baby dead and I hated him. I hated him, and I wanted him to die. And the thing was, Drew withered in front of us. He looked like one of those poor souls in a concentration camp and we couldn’t do anything but look at him. We just kept on looking and … waiting, and he kept wailing.’ She pulled her feet from his ankles and sat up.
Grabbing the pillows, Will adjusted the cushions so they could both sit against the headboard.
She gave a hollow laugh. ‘Alex loved him,’ she said. ‘I loved him. Oh, my God, I loved him. Understand that, William. I loved my husband, and it cut me to the bone because I couldn’t figure out why I hadn’t died too. I hated myself for living. I hated myself for thinking Drew had crashed the car on purpose. I hated myself for needing Alex. I hated myself for losing the baby. I hated myself for not being able to take the burden on my own, especially since Drew was aware of everything. He knew. He may have lost his sight and motor function, but he was aware.’ She laughed again, the sound empty, meaningless.
He settled against the pillows.
Caroline drew up her knees and locked her hands around them. ‘It’s weird,’ she said, looking out through the paned glass again, ‘how when someone is so incapacitated you start to think they can’t hear you, but Drew heard everything. People said all sorts of things in front of him. We didn’t have to tell him what happened. He knew my parents were dead, he knew the baby died, he knew Alex and I turned to each other for comfort. I could see it in his eyes; his vision may have been impaired, but Drew saw everything. He started to make the same noise over and over again. I realized he wasn’t just babbling, he was saying something.’ Caroline screwed her eyes shut, and waited for the sound, the sound that had kept her awake, that given her nightmares, that made her withdraw from herself and the rest of the world, but the sound didn’t come.
Next To You Page 27