Mother (45 page)

The Andrews Sisters began fresh instructions about sitting under the apple trees.
God, I wish that record would break in half!
“Let me check with Claire and see if she’s up for it. I really doubt she is.”
 

He turned to leave, but Prissy put a hand on his elbow. “I think she’d love a surprise. A tuna surprise.”

He managed a smile. “I disagree. She’s not in the mood for any kind of surprise.”

Prissy’s smile disintegrated. “Jason, I’m so worried about my little girl. I was telling Frederick I’m worried. He is, too. He loves her. I just don’t know what’s wrong with her. I asked Frederick if there’s any mental illness on his side of the family tree and he says no, but something’s wrong - and I know my side is the salt of the earth.”
 

Jason recalled Prissy telling Claire that Frederick was unresponsive - that though the lights were on, no one was home. Jason and Claire knew better of course, but Prissy had seemed to believe it, and Jason wondered if she was aware of the inconsistency in her logic.
“Dr. Putnam has assured her it’s simply hormones and stress.”

Prissy looked wounded. “But I take care of
all
her needs. There’s no reason for her to be stressed.”

“Claire is very independent, Prissy. She doesn’t like relying on other people; that in itself stresses her out. She needs to be in her own place, in charge. That will make her happy.” He spoke gently, diplomatically, but Prissy’s eyes welled and overflowed with tears.
Ah, shit.

“I just want to take care of my baby girl.” She looked up at him with teary eyes.
 

Kung Pao Secrets

Claire’s stomach was growling by the time Jason returned with the fragrant Wokamundo bags. Even Mother’s vile tuna casserole had started smelling good, but she’d
 
happily told Prissy the fishy odor made her queasy so she couldn’t eat it. Even so, her mother had remained for long minutes, standing behind her, staring down at the computer screen, taking in the mortuary website she was building, and not approving of it; Claire could tell by the thin lips and cocked brow.
 

She drove Claire nuts until a text from Jason arrived saying he was on his way. Then, with a comment that spicy food wasn’t good for the baby Mother left before Claire could argue with her.

And, oh boy, was she in the mood to argue. It was a little bit of everything - the revelations in Tim’s journals, the instant message allegedly from him, and finding him on Facebook had all served to put her so far over the edge that only by concentrating on work had she avoided a meltdown.
 

Jason rapped on the door and came in bearing two big bags. It smelled so good that her stomach sang a greeting.

Jason laughed. “You
are
hungry!”

“I am.” Claire waited while he dished up portions on paper plates. While they ate, he told her about his day at work and she told him about her mortuary webpage and that Babs had paid a visit. She carefully told him of Babs’ concerns, testing his mood. He’d become impatient with talk of Timothy and Mother, and she didn’t want to risk an argument. She’d decided not to bring up the IM - it was too weird - but she intended to show him Timothy’s alleged Facebook page.
 
“When we’re done eating, I’m going to show you proof I’m not crazy.”
 

“I know you’re not crazy.” Jason smiled and popped a cream cheese wonton in his mouth. “Tell me now.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you now, but I’m going to show you after dinner.”

“Okay. What is it?”
 

“I was on Facebook today - for the first time in ages - and I decided to look up Timothy Martin.”

“Wait. Why would you look him up on Facebook?”

Claire waved the question away. “It doesn’t matter.” She saw the concern in his eyes, but went on eagerly. “The point is … he
is
on Facebook!”

Jason’s chewing slowed to a stop. “What?”

“He’s on Facebook.” She saw the concern in his eyes - the look that told her he was worried about her. “It’s
him,
Jason. Complete with a bunch of his old pictures, a profile saying where he worked and went to school, and even some friend connections. I couldn’t believe it, but it’s him!”

Jason stared at her and she understood what he was thinking.

“No, I don’t think he’s alive, Jase. I think
Mother
must have created an account for him.”

“But … why?”

She shrugged. “It’s her sick, twisted form of denial, I suppose. It’s just one more way of keeping him alive.”

Jason stared at her.

“Here, let me show you. Hand me my laptop.”
 

“And you want to hear the sickest part?” She took the computer.

“I, uh … sure.”

“He’s ‘in a relationship’ with some girl in Michigan!” She booted, impatiently waiting as it came to life and connected to the Internet.
 

“What the hell?” asked Jason. “How? And
why
?”

“I told you, she’s batshit.” She’d lost all interest in her food - her only craving now was to see Jason’s face when he caught sight of Tim’s profile. “She’s never accepted his death, and-”

“But to have him on Facebook all these years later? And in a
relationship?
”

“Yep.” Jason was finally getting a glimpse of just how crazy her mother really was, and that was more satisfying than all the kung pao in Snapdragon. She logged into Facebook, and typed
Timothy Martin
into the search. A list pulled up and she scrolled down. “There are a few of them.” Jason leaned close to watch.

She didn’t see her brother’s profile and the first spark of panic kindled in her stomach. “He wasn’t too far down,” she said. “Help me look for his picture.” She scrolled further. To the end. And back up to the beginning. And back down. “What the hell?”

Jason remained silent beside her.

She scrolled back up, very slowly. “Son of a bitch. She must have deleted the account.” She paused, knowing what Jason was thinking. She looked at him - and his eyes confirmed her suspicion. “And that means she’s listening to us
right now
!” She spoke in a whisper and grabbed her cell, turned on Pandora. “Here, put this by the vent. It’ll keep her from hearing.”

Jason didn’t look angry.

He didn’t even look worried.

He looked heartbroken, but he took the phone and placed it near the vent. Blondie’s
One Way or Another
was loud and clear.

“I swear,” Claire said. “Tim’s profile was here. It was
right
here!”

Jason swallowed hard and stared at his hands.

He can’t even look at me …

She wished she hadn’t deleted the IM on her computer.

“I’m sure it will sort itself out,” Jason said. He saw both earnestness and panic in her eyes - and something else, too: self-doubt. “I think it’s time to give up the journals, Claire.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t believe me.”

“It isn’t that. It’s just …”

“It’s just
what,
Jason? That you believe that
I
believe what I’m saying? And why do you want the journals?”

Jason shook his head but didn’t meet her eyes. “I think you’re getting very upset over a lot of little things - and I think those journals are at the root of it all.”

Claire’s jaw flexed.

“Ever since you started reading them, you’ve become …”

“Go ahead, say it. Paranoid? Is that the word you’re looking for?”

Jason sat very still, knowing he was treading on precarious ground. “I didn’t say that, Claire.”

Her eyes were glassy, hard … hateful. “Only because you don’t have the guts! You’re so damned careful around me - like I’m some kind of … glass figurine or something. Well, I’m sick of it, Jason. Say what you mean; if you have any respect for me at all, don’t mince words.”

Anger bubbled inside him now. “Fine,” he said. “Yes. Paranoid. That’s
exactly
the word I was looking for.” He began pacing. “Do you feel better now? Does it make you feel good to hear it?” His face was hot with rage and his hands were fists. “Well? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Claire blinked at him, and as her eyes filled with tears, his heart sank. “God, Jason. I’m so sorry.” She was weeping, her body wracked by sobs.

He sat and put an arm around her. “I didn’t mean it, sweetie. I just-”

“No,” she said. “You’re right! And I don’t know what’s happening to me!”

“It’s just the hormones. Like Dr. Put-”

“Fuck Dr. Putnam!” she cried between sobs. “Fuck Dr. Hopper! Fuck Mother! Fuck them all! And fuck you, too!”
 

“Claire, please, listen to me. Just calm down. You
can’t
keep getting upset like this. You
can’t.
You need to take it easy for the baby’s sake!”

She looked into his eyes. “I think I’m going crazy, Jason. I really think I am.”

“You’re not going crazy, babe. You just need to spend less time with things that … upset you.”

Claire sniffed, wiped her eyes, and looked at him. She seemed calmer now. “You’re right. Just being here upsets me. I’ve got to get out of here. I hate that you’re right, but the things I read in the journals today … you need to read them, Jason.” Her eyes pleaded. “Do that for me. Read the journals.”

“Okay. Then let me have them. I’ll keep them safe, and after the baby comes, you can read them all you want - when you’re a little more …”

“God, don’t say stable!” She laughed.

He chuckled. “When you’re
calmer
.”

She wiped her eyes. “I’ll give all of them to you. I’m not sure I want to read any more, anyway. Not after
today.”

“Good.” Jason hugged her close and stroked her hair. “Now, I want you to promise me you won’t let yourself get upset, okay? The sooner you feel better, the sooner we can leave. Promise?”

“I promise.”

He kissed her on the forehead and wondered if this moment of clarity would last, or if in a few hours, she’d be raging on again. He wasn’t sure he could take this much longer - wasn’t sure
Claire
could - and tried not to think what the next five months might be like.
 

While she was calm, he decided to take the plunge. “Paul needs me to go out of town overnight - to Denver. He asked me to look over a jet for him.”

“Denver?”
 

“I’ll only be gone one night. I leave tomorrow morning.”

She smiled. “It sounds like he trusts your judgment. That’s wonderful, but I’ll miss you.”

Relief washed over him. “I’ll miss you, too.”

PART 3

Mother’s Little Helpers

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave,

When first we practice to deceive.”

- Sir Walter Scott

By Dawn’s Early Light

Claire stretched and drew her curtains wide on a bright Friday morning. She and Jason had avoided topics that could touch off a disagreement and had enjoyed the rest of their evening watching
Murder on the Orient Express
. She’d packed all of Tim’s journals in a box Jason then stowed in the Prius with his overnight bag, after she warned him not to leave them in the apartment in case Mother broke in again.
 

Claire had thought about it all through the movie and decided Jason was right: The journals were part of her problem. Mother, however, was a bigger part but there was no point in saying so to Jason. She would concentrate on working, reading, watching movies, and resting up for the baby’s sake. And her own - she needed Dr. Putnam to take her off bed rest so she could get out of this matriarchal prison and into her own house. She thought of Babs, and knew her offer to come over daily would encourage the doctor to decide in her favor.
Maybe Aunt Babs can come with me to my appointment and tell the doctor she’ll be helping out. That should guarantee I get out of this damned house!

Claire was surprised that the journals’ absence was such a relief. She also was happy that Jason would be seeing for himself some of the horrible things Mother had done to Timothy.
 

Tap tap tap.
The sounds came from down the hall.
Tap tap tap.

What the hell is that?
She pulled on her robe and headed out of the room, relieved to find her door wasn’t locked. First she looked toward the sounds - toward Timothy’s room, toward the staircase - but saw nothing. Then she headed for the bathroom, pleased with how easily she used the crutches now. She thought she could make it downstairs by herself if Jason wasn’t around to carry her.
 

Back in the hall, she heard the tapping again and followed the sounds past her room. When she arrived at Tim’s room she heard it again.
Tap tap tap
. In full stealth mode, she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked.

“Claire!” Mother burst from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing in there?”

“I was vacuuming.” Mother blocked the door. “That must be what you heard.” She looked Claire up and down.
 

“I heard tapping, Mother. Not vacuuming. What’s going on in there?”
 

“Nothing, absolutely nothing. Why, you probably heard a branch tapping a window, or maybe a woodpecker hammering on the eaves. Little monsters cause so much damage, but we love them, don’t we?”
 

Claire found herself being guided back to her room. She halted midway. “If nothing’s going on in there, why can’t I see? I want to see that nothing’s going on.” She felt her insides knotting and willed herself to stay calm.

Priscilla gave her a smile loaded with false understanding. “There’s nothing to see. Don’t you trust your own mother’s word?”

She considered arguing then thought of her promise to Jason, and the health of the baby.
I can’t let myself get so worked up about little things.
“Of course I do, Mother.”

Mother smiled and led her back to her room. “I’ll bring you a nice breakfast in just a few minutes. How do eggs sound?”

“Eggs sound wonderful.”

She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time after Mother left, listening for more taps.