Lies of the Heart (38 page)

“I can do this part alone.”

Dana sits back on her heels, slowly peels off her gloves.

The wiry white fur on Jack’s back stands straight up on end as he pants with impatience for Katie to finish. When she stops toweling to face off with her sister, Jack sees his chance; he sprints away and bounds out of the bathroom and up the hallway. Dana keeps her head tucked down, fingering the tips of her wet gloves.

“How could you all gang up on me like that?” Katie asks her sister.

“I told you, it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Mom was coming over to continue your conversation from the night before, which is the only reason I was there. To make sure she didn’t freak you out.”

“Great job.”

“I know.”

“So care to clue me in now?”

Dana stands and takes Katie’s wet gloves, drops both pairs into the tub.

“What did she mean by ‘more of the same,’ Dana?”

“Mom said she wants to wait until the trial is over to discuss it with you again, and I agreed. It would be too much right now, but it isn’t anything horrible.”

“No, not horrible, just ‘worse.’ ”

All of a sudden, Dana is intensely interested in making sure the wet towel is hanging perfectly straight over the shower rod.

“Dana?”

“Okay,” her sister says, studying the towel. She brushes her hand against it, turns to Katie. “Okay, then let’s just do this.” Dana sits down on the toilet, places a steadying hand on each thigh.

Katie settles herself on the rim of the tub, ignoring the water that immediately sinks into the seat of her jeans.

“I have to warn you, though, it isn’t that simple,” Dana says.

“What in my life is simple right now?”

“Oh, honey, I
know,
” her sister says, and tries to grab her hand.

Katie shakes her head. “Just tell me.”

“Okay. Well,” Dana says, and then becomes quiet, as if she’s selecting her words carefully first. “Well, do you remember when you were little? How much you loved to watch movies all the time? And you—”

“Wait,” Katie says, leaning forward. “Why would you bring that up now?”

“What?”

“Richard said something about me watching movies just a few days ago.”

“He did? What did he say?” Her sister looks at the doorway, like she’s waiting for Jack to reappear.

Katie pictures herself in the courtroom, Richard asking her to act, her dramatic reaction to the gun. “Never mind, just get to the point.”

“Kate, you need to be patient, because I really do feel like shit about this. I know I should have said something to you a long time ago, and I was wrong not to. I mean, it’s my job—”

“I’m not one of your clients, Dana. I shouldn’t be a
job
to you.”

“No, you aren’t, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just the opposite, actually. My training, my objectivity is almost nonexistent with the people I love. Like that time Michael—”

“Can we just focus here?” Katie interrupts. “How all the trouble began when I was a little girl and used to watch movies all the time?”

“Kate.”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Well, so you were obsessed with them when you were little, remember? You’d watch them over and over. One would finish and you’d rewind and watch it all over again, and you’d cry and get angry or happy or sad all over again, like everything was happening to you.”

“That’s what filmmakers want, Dana. They want you to relate to the main characters, to empathize—”

“I know, but it wasn’t just with movies. You’d watch people like that all the time, too. I don’t mean you’d cry or laugh or anything, but you always had that same incredibly intense look on your face, like when you were in front of the TV. You do it with your documentaries, and even now you still sit away from the crowd and watch everything happen around you, instead of actually interacting with the family.”

“Can you blame me? You see the way they treat me.”

“How do they treat you?”

“Everyone in this family, except you, has always treated me differently.”

“Differently than what?”

“Oh, c’mon, Dana, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Different from
you
,” Katie says.

“Well, we’re different people, Katie, and back then just the difference in our ages would—”

“Give me a break,” Katie snaps. “You know what I mean. Maybe the reason I watched those movies so much is because I wanted to know what it felt like to
exist.
Everyone in this family has always thought you were perfect. And you love being in the spotlight, completely adored, while I’m—”

Her sister jumps up. “That isn’t fair! I never asked to be in a spotlight.”

“But you
are
.”

“And what, you’re stuck in the shadows? Because of me?”

Katie is on her feet now, too. “You’re actually going to deny it?”

“This is part of the issue, Kate, sometimes you say things like this and I realize what a skewed perception you have of your place in relationships—”

“Skewed? Are you serious? Do you even
live
in this family?”

They are face-to-face now, only inches apart, Katie trying hard to control her breathing. Dana checks the doorway again.

“This is all wrong, I didn’t want it to be like this.” Dana shakes her head. “Mom was right, I shouldn’t have come,” her sister says. “I should go.” Like a shot, Dana is pushing past Katie.

Katie follows at her heels. “Are you kidding me? You’re
leaving
?”

Her sister skips down the stairs, swipes her purse and coat off the kitchen table, and heads to the front door.

“I came here because I felt awful about the other night, Kate, and I wanted to give you time to think about it.”

“Again, care to clue me in before you leave a second time?”

Dana faces the front door, head lowered, taking in deep breaths. She places her purse on the floor and slowly pushes her arms into her coat, then turns to face Katie.

It’s the closest Katie has ever come to striking someone—even angry and trying to escape from Katie’s home, her sister looks composed, completely in charge.

“I knew you might have felt this way when you were young, but I thought you were over it by now. I thought you wouldn’t still try to blame me.”

“I’m not blaming you, exactly.”

“Yes you are. You’re trying to say it’s my fault.”

“I don’t even know what the hell
it
is, Dana!” Katie roars. She is seconds—just
seconds
—from driving a fist into her sister’s infuriatingly calm face.

“I’m not in some sort of spotlight, Kate. Our family treats me the same way I treat them,” she says. “Even now, during this trial, I know you’re taking everything in, you’re making your assessments—but then you share only a fraction of what you’re feeling. Can’t you see how that might make people react?”

“So this isn’t about me
watching
people now, it’s about the way I treat our family?”

“You were the one who brought them up, Katie, but yes, it’s all tied together. It’s about your relationship with the family, with people—”

“I’m not worried about
people,
Dana, I’m worried about this trial, about Nick.”

“I know, and I know that Nick was the most important person in your life, and without him—”

“Right, without Nick it’s just ‘more of the same.’ ”

“Kate,” Dana says, “will you please stop getting caught up in Mom’s words?”

“She wanted to know what my story was, right? You want to know? This
is
my story! I don’t understand why you all think it’s so easy to just let go of him. Can’t I even wait until the trial is over before I change my personality and go out and get a new fucking life?” She is shaking so hard that her teeth start to chatter.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to upset you. This is why I thought you should talk to someone, why I suggested—”

“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“You know what I mean, Katie. A therapist, someone who’s objective and trained to deal with grief and these kinds of issues.”

“‘These kinds of issues’!” Katie shouts just inches from her sister’s face. “I’m fine!”

“Really?” Dana says. “I know you say that all the time, but are you? This is why I came tonight, too. To ask you to consider talking to a professional. Not just about Nick’s death, but all of it,” her sister says, opening her arms wide.

“So now I need professional help because my husband died and I watch other people and I treat these same people like shit. Great, Dana, thanks for letting me know just how crazy I really am. You have impeccable timing, just like Mom.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy—I really didn’t come here to upset you.”

“Another fantastic job, Dana, really stellar.” She wants to hurt her sister, wants her words to come out like knives, but instead there are bumps in her voice. “How about this? How about you all just steer clear of me from now on,” she says, turning away, but Dana grabs her by the upper arm from behind and wheels her around.

“Listen—”

Their faces are too close, and there’s something in her sister’s eyes—pity or shame or aversion, maybe all three—so Katie tears herself out of her sister’s grip and pushes her away, hard. Dana’s eyes flare in surprise, and she trips backward, palms smacking against the door, her head whipping back and hitting the wood with a loud thud.

“Oh, God,” Katie says, “I didn’t mean—”

But her sister shrugs off her sympathy, holds her back with one hand. “Last night,” Dana says, barely controlled now, “I was in bed, and I was thinking how good it was that you and Nick never actually had a baby. Because if you did, Nick would always be with you. A little girl who laughed like him, or a boy who had his eyes, or something like that.” Her sister’s eyes roam all over Katie’s face. “But it’s more than that. You’re never going to figure out what you really want until you take a good look at yourself, until you let him go and you finally—”

“How can I, with this trial?”

“Just
stop,
” Dana says, then composes herself, softens her voice. “Have you ever considered, just once, that none of the answers you need are out there? You’re always looking everywhere, you’re always looking to other people for answers, but—” Dana sighs, shakes her head.

She moves forward, presses her finger into the center of Katie’s chest, softly. “Right here, Kate. The answers have always been right here.”

F
or the documentary’s interviews, Katie used the room in the Warwick Center with the two-way mirror where Nick met with his clients, because of its simplicity—a table, four chairs, and scenic pictures of Rhode Island meant to calm: Black Point, Narragansett, with its moss-covered rocks meeting the ocean; a landscape of Breakheart Pond in Arcadia, where the water looked like a glass floor extending out from the forest.

Too many faces could potentially confuse viewers, so Patricia and Nick had helped Katie compile a list: Dottie Halverson, Eddie Rodriguez, Patricia, and of course Nick. Patricia had helped persuade Jerry’s hesitant social worker to allow the filming, and she even made numerous calls when the necessary permits and permissions were bogged down with red tape. It was the first time Katie had sought anyone’s help with a documentary, and she was grateful. She was even more grateful that Nick sat by her side at night, reviewing the footage.

—The first thing I’m going to do in the new house is set up your pull-down screen, Nick told her one night after filming.

—That would be great, Katie said, spooning film onto the spindle.

—Okay, we’re all set here. Now, remember, this is just a rough cut of the interviews. I’m still working on how to string them together to get a coherent history. I’ll have to edit out initial responses to my questions, repetition of information, and weave actual footage in between.

—And then we do my narration? Nick asked.

—We don’t add your voice-over until we’re done. Sometimes you don’t know what the story is until the very end, so we’ll work on that after we’re done with all the filming.

The first footage on the wall showed a close-up of Patricia nodding thoughtfully. Behind her and a little to the left, a photograph of Cold Brook in Little Compton, because Katie had liked the effect: stripped branches bent over with snow and reaching across the frozen brook.

—Yes, Patricia said into the camera after a moment.—His mother, Evelyn. She was a deeply religious woman. And yet, despite her convictions, she had engaged in an affair with a married man.

—He is. According to the files, Evelyn told the social workers that this man was going to divorce his wife, but when Jerry was six months old, he was diagnosed with mental retardation. Soon after, his father cut off all contact with them.

—Initially, yes. But after the diagnosis, all talk of divorce ended. He stopped visiting soon after, and the child-support checks stopped a few months later. Evelyn did some investigating and discovered that Jerry’s father had died suddenly of an embolism.

—Apparently not. She saw it as a sign from God. Divine retribution for their sins, Patricia said, mouth curving with derision.

Five seconds of blank space on the wall, and then Dottie’s face replaced Patricia’s.—Evelyn was
very
religious, Dottie said.—But obviously there was a lot more going on there. I don’t think she was ever officially diagnosed by a psychiatrist, but it’s clear from some of her statements that she suffered from severe mental issues. Dottie shook her head.—When Jerry’s father died, it only got worse.

—She believed that Jerry’s MR, what she called his “affliction,” was an indictment against her for her adulterous sins. Some of the statements she made to social workers . . . Dottie shook her head again, this time in amazement. Well, it’s evident her disturbed mind and stringent beliefs about God turned to a sort of religious fanaticism. And Jerry’s illegitimacy and handicap made him the obvious bearer of atonement. The abuse—Dottie said, and stopped. She turned away from the camera to collect herself.—She told the social worker that Jerry’s father was in hell because of Jerry, and her son needed to know that. He should
feel
it.