Blackout (8 page)

Phil was at his desk, engrossed in his
computer. Just like Ben. I knocked on the doorframe. His cubicle
didn’t have an actual door.

He spun his chair around. “Madelyn Canfield!
This is a pleasure.” He didn’t get up, but held out his hand. I
went over and shook it.

“Nothing bad, I hope,” he said. “Usually what
counts as news is pretty bad.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, “it was very bad,
but I hope something good can come of it.” I gave him a brief
rundown and handed him my article. “Do you think your paper can
find room for this? You’re welcome to make any changes or even
rewrite it if they want your byline.”

That would hurt, but any way to get the
message out was good.

He skimmed the article, then went back and
read parts of it again. “Why would they need my byline? What’s
wrong with yours?”

“I’m not on the staff.”

“It looks to me like an opinion piece. We
print opinion pieces every week.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. I thought it
was news, and hoped he wouldn’t be offended by the stand I took.
I’d tried hard to keep it from sounding like male-bashing. All I
bashed was certain male attitudes.

“I hope it’s not just my opinion,” I said. “I
mean, how could anybody disagree that women should be treated as
equals? Would men do a thing like that to each other?”

He gave me a twisted smile. “They’ve been
known to do worse, but you’re right. This particular kind of thing
is a lot more apt to happen to a woman.”

“I get sick and tired,” I said, “of people
claiming it’s the girl’s fault for getting drunk. Don’t men have
any responsibility for controlling themselves? And then, putting
pictures of it on the Internet. Whose fault was that? My brother
took them off, but you can hardly blame her for thinking there’s no
way out except suicide. It’s the sort of thing that happens all too
often and I want to stop it from happening again.”

He nodded and switched pages. It ran to two,
double-spaced. I said, “You can cut it if you want to.”

He didn’t answer that, but said, “Yup, you’ve
made some pretty good points here. I’m sure the editors will
agree.”

On the way home, I detoured past Cree’s house
and saw Ben’s truck there. Cree was the first real girlfriend Ben
ever had. Over the years, he’d been interested in others, but they
were all put off by his Asperger peculiarities. Some, like Kelsey,
even felt threatened. All he wanted was a friend. All
she
wanted was for him to leave her alone. He, being an Aspie, kept at
it, not realizing how terrified she was.

She even started carrying a knife. Against
Ben?
He was stunned when he found that out.

I never could understand why she felt so
terrified. He hadn’t done anything or even verbally threatened her.
All he did was persist in his Aspie way, trying to get her to talk
to him. And she countered that with a knife. I figured there had to
be something in her past that made her so neurotic, so Cree and I
went to work. We got a big boost from Velda, and then went to
Kelsey herself.

We left her in tears, unfortunately, but got
what we wanted. I took that back to the school authorities. I also
gave them a lecture on Asperger’s, all the things that, as
educators, they should have known and taken into account. It got
Ben off the hook, but he’d already transferred to Southbridge High.
I had just done that myself, trying to get away from Evan’s
harassment. But it continued anyway, and it was intentional. Ben’s
was not.

In Evan’s case, he couldn’t bear to let me be
my own person. It’s an ego thing with some guys. They have to
control “their” woman or they feel they’re less of a man. Don’t ask
me why. I’ve tried discussing it with Rhoda. All she does is mumble
about insecurity. That could be part of it. Or maybe all, in some
cases, but I wish she would come up with more details. It could be
she doesn’t know either.

People shouldn’t think so hard while they’re
driving a car. I came to my senses and found myself at the corner
of Main Street and Maple. I pulled to the curb and tried to think.
Should I go home or go and visit the hospital and see what I could
find out about Kelsey?

The hospital. Definitely. It was only a few
miles.

When I got there I found she’d been
transferred to a regular room. They gave me its number and said she
was stable. That was all they could or would tell me.

Next question. Should I be satisfied with
that, or go up and try to see her? I couldn’t think of any reason
why she would want to see me. I was, after all, Ben’s sister. I
didn’t know how she felt about him now, but it couldn’t be good.
What if her family was there? Undoubtedly they would be.

Courage,
I told myself. Most people
thought I had a lot of it. I didn’t really. It was the brave front
I put on. I grabbed an elevator that was starting to close and let
it take me up.

It was early still on Monday morning and
there weren’t many visitors. I found Kelsey’s room and peeked
in.

No parents, but Velda was there. Velda worked
at home as a freelance sculptor and could set her own hours. She
welcomed me with a smile. Kelsey rolled her head from staring at
the window to see who had come. Her expression was unreadable.

“Hi, Kelsey,” I said. “Welcome back to the
world.”

That could be all wrong. She might not want
to come back.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

Stupid question. I didn’t expect an answer
and didn’t get one.

She had the room to herself. I couldn’t help
thinking a roommate might have helped to keep her grounded. But I
was sure she wanted it this way and her family could afford it.

Kelsey’s eyes drifted closed and Velda
answered my stupid question. “She’s coming along. My family and I
are so grateful to you guys for going to check on her.”

“Glynis Goode was in a panic,” I said. “She
kept beating up on herself for not trying to stop what happened.
Not that she knew what was happening, but you know. The drinking
and stuff.”

Kelsey’s expression didn’t change, except for
her eyes. They opened and glared at me. Probably I shouldn’t have
mentioned the drinking but everyone knew that was what started it.
And it was, at least in part, Glyn’s fault.

My big mouth ran on. I told Kelsey, “It was
good you left the stuff there. They could see what there was so
they knew how to counteract it. I got poisoned once. Some idiot
stuck a needle into me. Right into my bloodstream. The found the
needle and analyzed the dregs. They had to do dialysis to get it
all out.”

Kelsey still didn’t react, but Velda did.

“Good gracious! What happened?”

“Well—that’s what happened. Four hours of
dialysis, but I kept drifting in and out. I wasn’t really
conscious. It happened right here in this hospital. He couldn’t
have picked a better place.”

“Was he a doctor?” Velda asked.

“No, but he was trying to pass as one. He
didn’t have the right footwear, so I knew. It all happened last
fall. Almost a year ago.”

“Goodness gracious.” Velda’s exclamations
were really mild.

“Kelsey,” I said, “I’m glad you’re doing
okay. Glyn sends her love and best wishes. So does my friend Cree.”
I almost mentioned Ben, but decided I’d better not.

On my way down, I thought of sending flowers.
When I got back to Southbridge, I would stop at Flowers by Maxine,
our friendly neighborhood florist.

As for Evan, I wondered where I could find a
bouquet of nettles. Not the flowers, only the leaves.

When I reached my car, I remembered that
episode with the brake line. And another time when he attached a
tracking device. After those little attentions, every time I went
to start my car, I expected it to blow up.

Once again, I said a little prayer before
turning the key. It didn’t blow. Thank you, God.

Someday, and soon, Evan would have to be
contained. I counted on Rick to take care of that. But I would do
what I could do help.

Even though my car kept from exploding, it
didn’t feel right. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what was wrong. It
just didn’t feel
right.
And hadn’t for a while, I realized.
It had slowly been getting worse until finally I had to notice it.
I must have been in denial. Instead of Flowers by Maxine I would
have to visit Barger Brothers garage and get it checked. If it
would get me that far.

It did. All four and a half miles. No one was
in the office, so I had to leave it outside and go into the service
bays where they don’t allow customers.

I found Wally, the head mechanic. He knew me
well. “Hello there, pussycat. What brings you here on this lovely
day?”

I was too grumpy to agree about the lovely
day. “What do you think brings me here? I don’t usually make social
visits.”

“Chevy’s acting up? Take a seat, pussycat,
and I’ll have a look-see. Are the keys in the car?”

I handed him the keys and went to the waiting
room. It had nice squishy chairs and big windows with a view of the
parking lot. No one else was there. The TV was on, too loud,
showing a dopey talk show. I turned it down but not off. The next
customer might like dopey talk shows.

I waited. And waited. I had no grounds for
complaint, since I didn’t have an appointment.

After a while, I looked out. My car wasn’t
where I’d left it but I couldn’t tell if they were actually working
on it.

The only reading matter was
Golf
Digest
and
Parents,
and an ancient issue of
Time
with last year’s news. I debated calling Rick, which might
interrupt important police work.

Finally, I succumbed. I wanted him to be
off-duty and come right over. He wasn’t, so I told him about my
visit to Kelsey, and asked, “Any luck finding Evan Steffers?”

“Not so far. You haven’t heard from him, have
you?”

“I hope I don’t, ever again. How could he be
such scum?”

“It happens,” said Rick.

“And don’t tell me it’s because girls get
drunk. Girls should be able to drink the same as guys without being
raped and humiliated.”

“Uh oh. Sounds like Maddie’s on the
warpath.”

“You bet I am. I just don’t understand why
men have so little regard for females. Does it make them feel
better about themselves?”

“You’re asking me?” He knew I didn’t mean
him.

“Not you,” I said. “That’s understood. You
and Ben and my dad. And maybe a few others.”

“Are you home?” he asked. “With the TV
on?”

I thought I’d turned it down. It was still
loud enough for him to hear it over the phone.

“No, I’m at Barger Brothers. After I left the
hospital, I thought my car felt funny. They haven’t diagnosed it
yet but here I am. That’s their TV in the waiting room.”

“Gotta go, little girl. I’m on duty.”

“Oh. Sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I
can do about Evan, short of homicide.”

“Don’t make extra work for me,” he
sighed.

At least he didn’t call me pussycat. But I
wondered what he meant by “little girl.” I was bigger than his
partner Rosie. At least taller, by an inch, or so. Did he mean the
age thing?

I couldn’t think about that now. I rummaged
through my handbag and found half a roll of butterscotch
Lifesavers, all of which I ate. I made sure I had my checkbook and
credit cards. Whatever was wrong with the car, it would probably
take all of them and more. I called Rhoda at her office to let her
know where I was. Mostly just to have someone know where I was.

We had disconnected when Wally came out with
the bad news.

“You’re going to have to leave it here,
pussycat. We have to order a couple of parts.”

“Can’t I take it home and bring it back?” I
said.

“Nope. Won’t run. ’Sides, it’s all in pieces.
Is there anyone you can call to pick you up?”

There was. I asked, “Which parts? What’s
wrong with it?”

He winked at me. “I could launch into a big
discussion, but it’s complicated.”

“And being female, I’m too stupid to
understand,” I said.

“Aw, pussycat.”

I touched my face to see if I’d sprouted
whiskers. And kitty ears. “Nope. Still a human being.” I could have
gotten nastier, but he had my car as hostage. Besides, he walked
away.

One time I asked Ben how come men know so
much about cars. Of course, women know other things but men only
respect what they themselves know. Ben said that aside from being
genuinely interested, which is a big plus, a lot of men hang over
the engine while it’s being worked on. They watch what’s going on
and ask questions.

Since for safety reasons most places don’t
allow that, I don’t know how they get away with it. Maybe it’s not
strictly enforced. I called Rhoda to come and get me when she left
work. She said it wouldn’t be for several hours and I should take a
taxi. Double groan.

I called Rick again even though he was on
duty, a fact of which he didn’t hesitate to remind me.

“But I’m off tonight,” he said. “Want to take
in a movie? I heard it’s pretty good.
War Between the
Exes.
”

I’d heard of it, too. Dark humor. An indie
film that caught on and hit the big time.

“I shouldn’t,” I said, wanting more than
anything to be with Rick. “Ben’s leaving tomorrow. I should be
there.”

“Is he all packed? Ready to go? Tell him to
come with us and have a night out before the grind starts.”

I called Ben on his BlackBerry. By great good
fortune, he answered. I usually got his voicemail. He was still at
Cree’s and they both wanted to see the picture.

I stopped him before he could disconnect.
“Are you going home soon? Could you come by Barger Brothers and
pick me up?”

“What are you doing at Barger Brothers?”

I felt like making a sarcastic remark, but
Ben would take it seriously. So I told him I didn’t know what was
wrong, which I didn’t, and held the details. I didn’t feel like
hearing a lecture on the care and feeding of cars. Ben hardly ever
had to visit Barger Bros. He even did his own oil changes.