“She looks older, yes,” Irene said. “Hello, Kaylee.”
“You’ll have lunch with us and hear all about her new school,” Mother commanded.
“I look forward to that. Let me get everything together for you. Go on and relax,” she fired back at Mother with just as much authority.
“Right, right,” Mother said, surprisingly obedient. “Let’s go into the living room, Kaylee.”
I looked at Irene, who raised her eyebrows and smiled. She was obviously pleased with the progress Mother had made.
Mother sat on the settee and smiled up at me. I sat across from her. Haylee and I always sat across from her on the matching settee.
“Don’t sit so far apart from each other,” she might tell us. Or “Kaylee’s not crossing her legs like that. Why are you?”
All our lives, we were made conscious of what the other was doing. As little girls, we knew that if one of us folded her hands in her lap, the other should, too. We were keen on pleasing Mother. She took such delight in our seemingly unconscious mimicking of each other. It wasn’t much of a stretch for anyone now to imagine which one of us was the first to work at being different.
“Your father tells me you have a roommate. What is she like?”
“She’s very bright, especially in math. We get along very well. I think she’s enjoying this school.”
Mother’s eyes didn’t blink. There was a colder glint in them. “What did you tell her about our family?”
“Daddy and my therapist, Dr. Sacks, both believed it would be best for me to say that I was an only child. That way, I wouldn’t have to explain anything nasty.”
She didn’t respond. She held her cold gaze.
“It was easier for me to do what they suggested. I had to try to recuperate, Mother.”
“Exactly,” she said, smiling. It surprised me. I was anticipating her anger, even her ranting against my father and my doctor.
“You understand?”
“Of course I do, Kaylee. As should you.”
“Understand what, Mother?”
“When I tell you that your sister is coming home from her school tomorrow.” She held her smile. “I’m trying to recuperate, too,” she said.
As Mother and I went into the kitchenette for the lunch Irene prepared, I considered what she had said. In my mother’s mind, there was no such thing as forgiveness; there was only forgetting or pretending that the bad thing had not happened. She was telling me how she would survive all this.
Was she telling me to do the same?
Although Irene asked a lot of questions about Littlefield, Mother asked many, too. She was so much like her former self that I decided not to challenge her way of dealing with the horrible thing Haylee had done, not only to me but to all of us.
Afterward, Irene pulled me aside to tell me my mother had made enough of an improvement for her to consider cutting back to only a weekly visit.
“Her doctor agrees,” she said. She didn’t mean to suggest it, but I realized all the pressure was on me now not to spoil the recovery. If I expressed any anger in front of Mother when Haylee was here or if I was in any way mean to her, this fragile reconstruction of Mother’s life might crumble.
Irene had Mother take a rest before dinner, and I went to my room. I had some homework to do over the holiday, and I thought it would provide the best way to avoid thinking about the challenge that lay ahead.
My father called to see how things were going. “I see her feisty self has returned,” he began.
I told him a little about the way she was behaving and how she was coping.
“Well, that might be for the best, but don’t you permit anyone there to make you uncomfortable, Kaylee,” he warned. “I won’t stand for you enduring an unpleasant second. Understand? You call me, and this whole thing is called to a halt. Your sister is going to hear the same from me.”
“I know, Daddy. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
Just before I went down to dinner, Troy called. He told me his sister had just arrived, but his father was not home yet. I told him how it was going for me.
“Do you think I should speak to my sister before Thanksgiving dinner or after?” he asked.
“I’d do it after, just so you don’t make her uncomfortable for the evening.”
“That was my thinking, too. It’s great to have someone bright enough to bounce ideas off of,” he said.
“I wish that was all I was.”
“I’ll call you Friday,” he said. “Right now, I’m going to the indoor pool to relive a memory.”
“Glad you can’t see through the phone,” I said, and he laughed.
“Kaylee,” he said, then paused.
“I know,” I said. “Me, too.”
I had this eerie feeling after I hung up. Anticipating words, feeling similar about things, was, after all, what had made Haylee and me the Mirror Sisters.
18
In anticipation of Haylee’s arrival, Mother was up before either Irene or me; she was even up before the sun. I heard her moving through the house, but I remained in bed. It had taken me longer than usual to fall asleep.
I had done as much as I could to occupy myself the night before. After Irene suggested that Mother go to bed so she would be fresh for tomorrow, Mother had kissed me good night, something she always hesitated to do because Haylee wasn’t here to get a kiss as well. But now I saw the excitement in her eyes. It was on the tip of my tongue to warn her not to expect everything to return to what it was, but at this point, I was even afraid to look worried or pessimistic.
A song by Charlie Chaplin that Haylee and I would play on our pianos together flowed through my thoughts: Smile . . . Hide every trace of sadness . . . Smile, what’s the use of crying.
“You go to sleep, too, Kaylee. It’s a big day tomorrow,” Mother had said.
“I will,” I promised.
Irene had escorted her up, assuring her that everything was set for Thanksgiving dinner. I heard their chatter die away and then sat and stared at the two pianos, remembering Haylee when we were only eight, beaming with pride at how well we sounded together. Perhaps she was only proud of herself.
Now, when I rose in the morning, showered, and fixed my hair, I pondered what to wear when I greeted Haylee. When my father had taken me to visit her, I had deliberately chosen that sexy dress. Dr. Alexander had picked up on it immediately. She knew I wanted not only to rub my survival in Haylee’s face but also to emphasize that I looked better than she could look at the moment. I wanted her to be jealous of me. I wanted her to hate herself.
I had no intention of doing that now. In fact, I chose one of the dresses Mother had bought for us that Haylee thought did nothing for our figures. She even hated the color, a shade of beige that she claimed was blah. I put on no makeup or jewelry, either. Then I slipped into the plain-looking low-heeled beige shoes Mother had bought to go with our dresses and went down to breakfast.
Irene was at the kitchenette table having coffee alone. Before I could ask where Mother was, Irene nodded toward the dining room. I looked in and saw Mother intently studying the table settings like a champion chess player, adjusting a fork a little to the right, a knife a little to the left.
“Good morning, Mother,” I said.
She looked up with an odd expression for a moment and then smiled. “Oh, I’m glad you’re up. I was thinking of having the two of you sit together rather than across from each other as usual,” she said.
“It’s only the four of us, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then it won’t matter, Mother. The table looks picture-perfect. It could be in a magazine, especially with all the holiday decorations.”
“Could it? It’s so important that everything goes well, Kaylee.”
“It will. Let’s have some breakfast. Daddy’s picking her up in an hour.”
“I hope he doesn’t start lecturing her and getting her in a terrible mood before she arrives,” she said, looking like she was going to growl.
&nb
sp; “It will all be fine, Mother. Don’t worry. Let’s join Irene.”
“Yes. I’m so happy you feel that way,” she said.
I turned and walked away. Seeing her smile, hearing her words and the way she wanted to sugarcoat everything that had happened, churned my stomach. I had all I could do just to eat a bit of cereal and a slice of toast and jelly. Mother was so energetic this morning that she insisted on doing everything, clearing the table and rinsing off the dishes and silverware before putting them in the dishwasher, something she always had insisted Haylee and I do. She returned to wipe down the kitchenette table. Irene and I looked at each other, neither wanting to say anything that might put a hole in Mother’s balloon of happiness. Irene winked at me, and I retreated.
A little more than two hours later, I was in the living room reading one of our assigned novels for literature class when I heard the front door open and knew she was here. Was that the sound of my heart pounding or their footsteps?
I heard my father talking to my mother about the weather. I expected that he was waiting for me to appear before he would leave, waiting to see my reaction to Haylee and her reaction to me. I hated that I might appear nervous or afraid. With my head high and my shoulders back, I took a deep breath and stepped into the foyer.
Anyone, even the best detective, would have had to employ a microscope to see any evidence of Haylee being nervous. She burst into a smile of glee the moment she set her eyes on me.
“Oh, I love the way your hair has come back! Mine, too, don’t you think?” She turned around, like someone modeling a new style. She had made it sound as if both of us had gone through chemotherapy or something. Of course, it was on the tip of my tongue to say, I didn’t want mine to be cut, but I swallowed back the words. I would gobble down my feelings and thoughts all day and night, for sure.
“Very pretty,” Mother said. “Both of you.”
Haylee glanced at her, flashed a smile, and then picked up her overnight bag and hurried over to me. “Let’s go upstairs. I have a lot to tell you,” she said, seizing my left hand.
“Wait. I didn’t introduce you properly to Irene,” Mother moaned.
Haylee looked back at her, then at my father, and began to apologize vociferously. “Oh, I’m just so excited to be here. I’m sorry. I didn’t even notice you. Your name is . . .”
“Irene Granford, dear,” Irene said. I could see from the look of amusement on her face that she immediately recognized Haylee’s insincerity but at the same time was amused at her performance. She was also seeing us together for the first time, and like everyone else who did, she was quite astonished by the mirrored faces. It was as if the turmoil, tension, and agony we both had endured were equally damaging.
“I want to know all about you,” Haylee said.
I fought back a laugh. Since when did she ever care more about listening to someone else’s story than she did about reciting her own? But it was the perfect thing to say. Mother’s smile brightened. My father looked sufficiently skeptical and cautious. He glanced at me, and I gave him a small nod so he would understand I was fine.
“We’ll have much to talk about at our Thanksgiving dinner,” Irene said. “We’ve planned it for three o’clock. Is that all right?”
“Absolutely,” Haylee said. “I’m going bonkers. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal for ages. Did you make your famous pumpkin pie, Mother?”
“Of course,” Mother said.
“With gobs and gobs of whipped cream on top,” Haylee reminded me. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s practically all I’ve been dreaming about.”
I said it as dryly as I could without sounding sarcastic. Mother clapped her hands and brought them to her chin as if she were about to give a Hindu greeting. To Hindus, it meant, “I bow to the divine in you,” and I had no doubt she meant that, too, when it came to us.
She turned to my father with that See? They are still so alike look.
A wave of pessimism swept across his worried expression.
“We have to think about what to wear to dinner,” Irene told me. She looked back at Mother, expecting to hear her dictate our clothing down to the very socks.
“Oh, go up and choose whatever you wish,” Mother said. “Surprise us.”
Haylee raised her eyebrows and looked to me for some confirmation.
“Yes, why don’t we do that?” I said.
“Thank you for bringing me home, Daddy,” Haylee said.
“I’ll be here at ten tomorrow morning,” he reminded her sternly.
“Why so short a visit?” Mother asked, her face wrinkling with displeasure.
“Baby steps,” my father said. “That’s how her psychiatrist, Dr. Alexander, described it, Keri. Let’s not do anything to sabotage the efforts.” That warning carried many different meanings, the primary one being Don’t return to the way things were.
Mother nodded quickly and turned to Irene. “We have so much to do,” she said.
My father gave me one more look to assure me he would stay on high alert in case I needed him.
“C’mon,” I told Haylee, and we started for the stairs.
I heard my father leave. We walked up quickly. I was most eager to see Haylee’s reaction to her room.
The moment she saw it, she dropped her bag and stood in the doorway, astonished. “What the hell . . . Is this some sort of punishment?” she asked me.
“Don’t ask Mother that. She thinks it’s beautiful and perfect. She had the help of a professional decorator.”
“Did she do this to your room, too?”
“Oh, no. Mother’s been in therapy, remember? She’s trying to be different, treat us differently.”
“It looks like a room made of candy. How am I going to fall asleep in here? I’d be ashamed to bring anyone to it. Maybe when I’m back, I can get it changed.”
“Maybe,” I said, shrugging.
“You like that she did this to me, don’t you?” she asked, her whole demeanor changing, returning to what I expected it to be.
“She’s doing her best, I guess. Just wear sunglasses,” I added.
She stared at me a moment and then burst into laughter. “Very good. You are different. You’ve got to tell me everything about your new school, the girls there, and the boys, of course. Did you meet anyone? I mean a boy, of course.”
She entered the room and dropped her bag at the foot of her closet.
“Before you start, I’ll tell you why my life has changed, and it has nothing to do with the dumb treatments or Dr. Alexander, either.”
“Really? What changed it, then?”
“I met someone I really like,” she said, her eyes wide. She ripped the comforter back and flopped onto the bed. “I know I’ve said that many times before, but this time I really, really mean it, Kaylee. But let’s make a pact first, just the way we used to. A pinkie promise,” she said, holding up her hand. I looked at it suspiciously. “You can break the promise if you just can’t stand keeping it.”
I moved slowly to the bedside and entwined my pinkie with hers.
“I promise not to talk about the terrible thing I did to you, and you promise not to talk about what it was like or how you suffered.”
“No wonder you came up with that one. That’s all good for you,” I said.
“No, no. You must have been told, just as I’ve been, that reliving the past, the gruesome past, does neither of us any good now. I’ll just say I’m sorry. I was stupid and selfish and never realized how serious it was. It started out as a joke and just exploded into something so terrible I was terrified of anyone discovering that I was responsible. And when they did, I went a little nuts. That’s an explanation, not an excuse,” she added.
“Whether I believe you or not is another thing.”
“Okay. Let’s leave it at that. You’ll decide, but in the meantime, let’s be sisters again.”
I didn’t speak.
“For Mother, if not for ourselves,”
she said. She was holding my pinkie tightly in hers. I hated to think it and certainly wasn’t going to say it, but to get through this dinner and this night, she was right. I shook our pinkies, and she let go of mine.
“Now, let me tell you all about it,” she said, pulling her legs up so she was in a lotus position, the way we sat whenever we were talking intimately with each other in her room or mine. She patted the bed, and I sat. “There’s this boy in the nuthouse. We both call it that. Neither of us cares how it makes us look, which was one of the first things that attracted me to him. His name is Cedar Thomas. Can you imagine anyone naming their son after a tree?
“He’s half Cherokee, and it comes from one of their legends describing how God created night and day. The people first asked that there be no night, but that got them exhausted, so they asked for no day, and that caused them to starve, from lack of crops. Many died. So then they said it was all a mistake, and God created night and day. He felt bad about the dead, so he created the cedar tree and put the spirits of all the dead in it. So when they smell a cedar, they smell their ancestors. That’s pretty neat, right?”
“Yes,” I said, impressed. “But why is he there?”
“He tried to kill his little brother because he thought he saw an evil spirit in him,” she said with stunning nonchalance.
“Saw an evil spirit in him? How?”
“Cedar was into some crazy stuff like peyote. But he’s so sexy-looking. He has these onyx-black eyes and a kind of olive complexion, with ebony hair he keeps long, down to his shoulders. They wouldn’t dare cut it. He’s very proud of his Indian heritage and keeps himself in great shape. He talks a lot about the aura around people. He says an ancient medicine man taught him how to see it. Fascinating, right? We spend every free hour together. It’s hard to do much more than talk, because everyone’s watching you breathe,” she said, her voice full of frustration. “He hates one of the attendants because he calls him Chief. We play around and plan how we’d like to kill him. Just kidding,” she added quickly. “But remember, it’s better to release your aggression in nonviolent ways. He pumps iron. I’ve done some great work in arts and crafts.
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