Catwalk (20 page)

forty-one

Tom and I talked
about my mother's hospital adventure and the investigation. No, that's not quite right. Tom did most of the talking, and I vacillated between giving him my full attention and none at all. My eyelids felt like sandpaper as the dry heat of the hospital joined forces with fatigue and I wondered where I might find a secret sofa for a twenty-minute nap. I may even have been drifting into sitting-up sleep when Tom's voice broke in.

“How are you doing?” asked Tom.

Swell.
“I'm okay.”

I didn't look at him, but I could feel his eyes on my face.

“It doesn't look as dire as we thought at first,” he said.

“Nope.”

“Did I do something wrong?” He sounded confused with a hint of
annoyed.

“Not that I know of,” I said, and immediately wanted to kick my own butt.
Passive aggressive, anyone?
I looked at Tom. He was leaning
forward, both forearms resting on the table. His face was relaxed, but there was something in his eye that said he didn't like this game. I didn't much like it either, even if I was the one making the moves.
You're out of control,
said a voice in my head.
My whole life is out of control,
said
I. Aloud I said, “I'm tired and I'm worried and I'm the tiniest bit terrified.”

“Of what?”

“Of what? Are you kidding?”

“No, but she's doing okay, unless I missed something. What did the doctor say?”

I filled him in on what Doctor Krishna had told me before he arrived. Three women sat two tables away, so I leaned across the table and lowered my voice. “And there's the little matter of our possible status as murder suspects.”

He laughed at that. “Oh, come on. That's just the police brainstorming possibilities. Lots of people saw us leave the trial long before Rasmussen was killed.”

“Did they?” I thought back to Saturday at the agility trial. I was pretty sure that no one stood in the parking lot at Dog Dayz and watched our departure. Why would they? “Even if someone did see us leave, who's to say we didn't go back? I mean, Rasmussen himself left and came back.”

“What else?” asked Tom.

I took a long moment to answer, “I don't know.” It seemed less confrontational than
you tell me
.

“So what do you think? Should I put my house up for rent?”

“Do whatever you want,” I said. I tried to keep my voice noncommittal, but my tone came out sharper than I intended.
Then again, you're the one with the secret plans,
I thought.

Tom looked like I had dumped the missing ice in his lap, and I could heard the tight bands of control around his voice when he said, “What?”

I knew I should shut up, but my mouth took off on its own. “Apparently you've already decided what you're going to do, so why ask me?”

“What are you ta …”

“I think I'd like to be alone,” I said.
I'm terrified of being alone again.
But that wasn't what frightened me, and I knew it. Being alone is not the same as being apart from someone you love. What I should have said was
I think you're leaving, so I'll just make sure of it.

Tom picked up all the trash except my cup and the plate with the remaining half Danish, the cardboard pastry now trapped in congealed goo. The clock on the cafeteria wall hadn't moved since we came in, and it didn't move after Tom walked away, so I have no idea how long I sat there wanting to punch someone.

Mostly myself.

My hot flash had been replaced by a chill, and a shiver shook me out of my paralysis. I got up. I would find Tom and we would find a quiet spot and I would apologize and then I would shut up and hear what he had to say. I scurried down the hall.

A nurse had just left Mom's room, and she intercepted me. “She's
finally fallen asleep.”

“I won't wake her,” I said. “Is anyone else in there?”

“No, just Mrs. Bruce,” she said, and bustled off.

I wouldn't have answered my phone, but its ringing seemed ob
scene in the medicinal quiet of the early morning corridor. I thought
I had turned it off, but lately nothing I thought seemed to be right. I flipped it open and ducked into the stairwell, trying to keep my voice low.

It was Alberta. She wanted me to photograph the feral cats and the cat colony set up. I assumed this was a request for
pro bono
photo
graphy, since most rescue groups have no discretionary funds, but she said, “Okay if I give you the retainer when I see you? Or I can send it by, what's that computer thing?”

I told her not to worry, she could pay me when I finished. I was happy not to be paid at all this time, but I couldn't afford to turn down the money.

“Any chance you can come this afternoon or tomorrow? I mean, if your mother is okay?” It seemed like an afterthought. “It's so nice out, I thought you could get …”

I filled her in. “But I don't need to be here at the hospital all afternoon,” I said. “Tomorrow's out. I'm going with Tom to look at a litter of puppies. At least that's the plan, unless something happens.” We set a time and I walked back to Mom's room, thinking Tom should be back by now.

He was not. I checked the waiting area where Doctor Krishna and I had spoken, but he wasn't there either. He wasn't in any of the other sitting areas on that floor. My pulse thundered in my ears. I went back to Mom's room, thinking he might have left me a note. Maybe he had gone to the lounge downstairs.

He hadn't, and his jacket was no longer draped over the chair where he had left it earlier. The tea and morsel of Danish I'd eaten turned to lead in my stomach, and then I saw something on the bureau. No note. Just my keys. What was it I had told him in the cafeteria?
I think I'd like to be alone
.

I had never felt so alone.

forty-two

Doing something with my
dog and cat usually dulls whatever pain bedevils me, so I headed straight out the back door when I got home. Jay brought me his tennis ball, I threw it, and he took off with Leo right behind him. I broke the film of ice that capped the birdbath and threw the ball again, but the boys ignored me and shot around the side of the house. They reappeared a few seconds later, dancing around Goldie's feet. She wore a bright-blue ski jacket and a Fair Isle cap in lollipop colors, and carried a covered baking pan.

“How's your mom?” She obviously saw the surprise on my face and said, “I saw Tom get out of the taxi this morning. He told me.”

I filled her in, and said, “She was sleeping when I left. I'll call in an hour or so for an update.”

“Tom must have had an early class,” said Goldie, bending to pick up Leo. He settled into her arms and I could hear his motor running from three feet away. She smiled at him and I swear he smiled back.

“You need a cat, my friend,” I said. I felt more comfortable talking about cats and dogs, or even my mother, than about Tom at the moment. Besides, Goldie had talked to Tom and probably already knew that all was not well.

Jay shoved his tennis ball into my knee. I started to tell him the game was over, but the anticipation blazed across his face stopped me. I took the sopping ball out of his mouth and told Goldie, “You might want to put Catman down before I throw this.”

“Good idea,” she said. Leo was finely focused on Jay, and he poured out of Goldie's arms and tucked himself into a crouch that said, “Ready!”

I got three more tosses in before we reached the back door. Each time, Leo chased Jay and Jay chased the ball. They followed us into the house, both of them panting, and lay down together on Jay's bed. Leo patted Jay's muzzle with his paw, and was rewarded with a slurp across his neck and cheek.

Goldie pulled her cap off, releasing a tumble of silver waves that stood out in an electric halo. “Oh,” she said, shaking her head and crinkling her nose, “that static tickles my nose.” She set the pan on the table and peered over her glasses at me where I had collapsed into a kitchen chair. “Shall I get you a plate and put the kettle on for tea?”

“No, thanks, but help yourself,” I said, kicking my shoes off and crossing my feet on a chair. “I ate at the hospital.”

Goldie's eyebrows rose.

“Cardboard pastry, but filling.”

She sat down across the table from me and asked for more details about my mother. Then she switched topics, as I knew she would. “What's up with you and Tom?”

I didn't answer. Goldie fished some hair pins from her pocket and began twisting and looping and pinning her hair, and I marveled at her ability to create an intricate up sweep without benefit of brush or mirror. I can barely manage to catch a clump of my hair in a giant jaw clip. She finished her do and sat watching me, her fingertip tapping the table.

As much as I didn't want to talk about my so-called love life, the subject was gnawing at me. “What did Tom tell you?” I asked.

“That you needed to stay with your mom and he had places to go,” said Goldie.

I wasn't surprised that Tom would keep our problems to himself, but I also wouldn't have been surprised if he had told Goldie every stupid little detail of our conversation, if you could call what we'd had that morning a conversation.

“But he looked like he'd been run over by a truck,” said Goldie.

Maybe the same truck that ran over me when I overheard him asking about quarantines and vaccine requirements for dogs?
“Probably tired.”

“Uh huh. I'm sure that was it.”

I really didn't want to get into the disturbing trajectory of my relationship, so I said, “If all is well with Mom, I'm going to photograph Alberta's feral cat colony in a bit. You want to come? We can visit the kittens, too.”

She said yes, she'd love to go. “Do you have any of that blackberry sage? A cup of tea sounds good.” I started to get up but she waved me to stay where I was and went about the tea making.

“Could you please grab me an egg from the bowl in the fridge?” I asked. “I think I need some protein.”
I think I need a week in Tahiti.

My cell phone rang and I answered, thinking it might be the hospital. Or Tom.
Let it be Tom.
Of course, I knew by the ring that it wasn't him.

“Janet, how are you doing?” It was Norm, and he didn't wait for an answer. “I'm back at the hospital and thought I'd fill you in.”

Goldie set a mug in front of me and I inhaled the sweet fragrance. Blackberry sage tea never fails to calm and lift me all at once. I mouthed a thank you and she squeezed my shoulder and sat down.

“They wanted to run a bunch of tests but Mom is feisty this morning and she has declined,” said Norm. He lowered his voice a notch and continued. “Her boyfriend, Anthony, is here with his daughter. They're so cute together I can't stand it. Him and Mom, I mean.

I had to smile at that. “I know.”

Norm went back to his normal voice. “Anyway, she doesn't want more tests, so she's going back to Shadetree any time now. We're just waiting for the ambulance or transport vehicle or whatever they call it.”

“Okay,” I said, “I'll leave in a few minutes.”

“No need. She's really tired and will probably fall asleep the minute she's in her own bed. I'll follow them and stay until she's settled. Then I'm off to pick Bill up. He caught an earlier flight and will be in at two-ten.”

“But I should …”

“Let's do this in shifts, okay?” He chuckled. “Besides, Mom was pretty adamant that she wants some private time with Anthony, and doesn't want us hanging around her as if we're on a death watch. Her words.”

Yes, they would be, I thought. Terrible words. I felt myself spinning off into a deep space of loneliness, all my tethers suddenly torn loose. Then Norm's chipper voice threw me a lifeline and I floated back into the moment.

“Be sure to keep your phone charged,” he said. I'm notorious for letting the battery run down. “And go do something fun. Go take some photos or play with the fur boys, or,” he filled his tone with innuendos, “that big handsome boy of yours.”

Have I mentioned how much I love Norm? He gives me all the brotherly affections that my biological brother, Bill, finds so difficult. If Bill hadn't moved in with him, I'd have to adopt Norm myself.

I called Alberta to see if we could meet her in about ninety minutes. Fine with her. Goldie went home to change into suitable pants and boots, and I slipped into a quick shower. My peppermint essence steam trick worked its magic and I stepped out feeling slightly more able to function. On a scale of one to ten, with one being comatose and ten being gung ho, I moved up to about a three.

Leo was waiting for me on my bed, and he meowed and stretched when I entered the bedroom. “Hey, Catman.” I sat down and ran my hand over his long, sleek felineness. “We'll practice this evening, okay, Leo
mio
?” He squinted at me and chirped. “I know, you don't really need the practice.” Which was true. I was the most-likely-to-mess-up team member whenever I performed with my animals. I got up and pulled clean jeans and a sweatshirt out of the closet, and realized that Leo had bumped me up another notch on the functional scale.

And then I opened a drawer in my bureau. I was looking for socks, but I didn't expect the ones that I saw to be Tom's. It used to be my sock drawer, but I had cleared it to give Tom a place to park a few necessities. Apparently the stress of the past twenty-four hours had pitched me back into my old routine. Next to the brown fuzzy socks was an olive green T-shirt, the one that brought out the green flecks in the man's brown eyes whenever he wore it. I picked it up and held it to my face, but it smelled of nothing more personal than dryer sheets. I laid it back in the drawer, smoothed it out with my palm, and gently pushed the drawer shut.

By the time I had my jeans and sweatshirt on, I was angry at myself for being such a wimp about asking straight out what Tom was planning. I even thought about calling him to apologize and to plead insanity at the thought of his leaving, even if it wasn't forever. But that thought conjured the betrayal I had felt when I heard him on the phone. If he was planning to take Drake abroad with him, he had to be planning to be there a long time. From there my heart whirled back to old betrayals, years old but still thinly scabbed. I yanked the knot tight in my boot laces, feeling even angrier, but no longer at myself.