Secret Sister (19 page)

“She cited that scent thing, that men smell women and are attracted to them. At different times in their cycle, or something. But she rested most of her case on some guy’s essay claiming nothing in life was random. It said everyone crossed the path of everyone they met in life for a purpose, and that the energy propelling people toward one another had a logical biological pattern that one day would be proven by a mathematical construct.” I laughed.

“This guy also thought the patterns of lightning strikes and snowflakes could be predicated on certain rules, but mankind wasn’t advanced enough to understand or explain the formulas yet. So instead we label phenomenon like lightning, snowflakes or love, ‘
magic
.’”

“Wow. What did you think about all that?”

“I told her I believed in her, but that her man was smoking too much hash. I told her that even if it was true, I preferred not to know the logical design of snowflakes, or love. I told her I believed in magic. The kind the Lovin’ Spoonful sang about.”

“What grade did she get on her paper?”

“An F. She had to retake the class to graduate. But she said she was sure one day she’d be vindicated and someone would prove she was right.”

We laughed at that together.

Seth put his empty teacup on the desk at the same moment a chime sounded somewhere inside the house. He stood and reached out to shake hands. “Stubborn, that Cathy. Not willing to give in if she believed in something. Well, you take care of yourself, Nick. And give my best to Zoë.”

I struggled to my feet, offended at the lack of grief in his voice when he said Cathy’s name. “Okay. I will.”

Seth walked toward the door. Obviously our time together today was over.

“So, should I call in and make another appointment for next week?”

“Why?” He sounded surprised.

“I thought we’d maybe need to work together for a while.”

“You’re going to AA and you’re not going to drink. And you believe that if you keep to that path, that your life will be good again someday, right?”

“Yeah.” I cracked my knuckles, waiting for him to take another shot at me.

“You can call me if you want to schedule another appointment, Nick. But I think you know everything I would say already. The only thing I can add is to remind you that life changes every day. You need to be ready for the next painful or wonderful thing that walks in the door. Because something will.”

“But what if I need help?”

“With what?”

He wasn’t making it easy for me. “With grief,” I blurted out. “And my anger.”

“At Roxanne?”

“At life. It’s not fair, what happened. I don’t understand why Cathy had to die.” It was a lame thing to say. Everyone knew life wasn’t fair. I hung my head.

“Sane people eventually make peace with the past, whatever happened there. And you are totally sane, Nick. If I were you, I would focus on the fact that the future can be what you want it to be. It’s the present we all struggle with, because we don’t always see it for what it is.”

“And what is it?” I stared at him.

“You’re the only one who can decide that, Nick. But trust yourself. You’ve made some great decisions in the past. There’s no reason to think you won’t in the future. And don’t ever give up believing in magic.” He patted my shoulder. “Goodbye.”

He opened the door. A young Asian woman sat in the waiting room. She wore a black tee shirt and jeans, and had white bandages wrapped around both wrists.

I left the office without a clue as to what the fuck Seth was talking about. Though I was exhausted and confused by most of what he’d said, I did feel a sense of relief when I got into my car.

And I had the sudden thought that Seth had told me something important, something I didn’t completely understand right now, but that later I might see the significance of.

Chapter 17

Saturday, July 30, 12:30 p.m.

Cathy Visits Betty Haverty

As I knocked on the door, I glanced at my watch for about the tenth time. Twelve-thirty. Seth called the apartment earlier to say he’d spoken to Nick on the phone and that Nick was going in to see him this afternoon.

I considered driving over and trying to talk to my husband afterward, but didn’t as it was obvious he needed some time before we met again.

Waiting for Betty to answer the door, I thought again how he’d looked at me when I tried to give him my earring. He hated me.

Well, he hated Roxanne. The
me
he thought I was.

Nick’s animosity hurt my heart for Roxanne. She didn’t deserve it.

“Roxanne!” Betty cut off my musings. “Why didn’t you just come in? Did you forget you have my key on your key ring? It’s the green-tinted one.”

I never knew that. Roxanne and I were close, but we didn’t share every detail of our lives.

“How are you?” I gave Betty a kiss on the cheek.

She hugged me hard. “I’m good. I’m so glad you’re here.” Her eyes roamed my face the way mothers do when their child is coming down sick. “How is everything? Come in and tell me what’s happened with you this week.”

I thought of Michael Cimino. Of Nick and Zoë. And the moment I realized I was Cathy, and that Roxanne was dead.

I couldn’t tell her any of it.

I swallowed, cautioning myself to watch what I said. But I was giddy with nerves, the same way I’d felt in high school when Roxanne cooked up lies so we could stay out all night and live dangerously.

I followed Betty through her neatly kept living room into the kitchen at the back of the small Cape Cod she and Roxanne had moved into twenty years ago. On the table sat a pot of newly brewed coffee and a plate of cookies.

The cookies looked delicious. The yellow roses in the vase on the counter were fresh, as were the bowls of chicken salad and cut-up melon.

“This looks fabulous,” I said. “But I thought we were going out to lunch? I would have brought something if I’d known we were staying in.”

Betty reached into her cabinet for mugs. “Did I say that? You don’t mind, do you? If you’d rather go out, I can change.”

She wore jeans and a black sweater, and ratty blue slippers with faded pink nosegays. Her roots were growing out and showing a lot of gray. Overall, Betty wasn’t as shiny and well-kept as usual. She looked older than I remembered.

Had Roxanne mentioned that her mother was seeing a doctor, a specialist of some kind? This was one of many fuzzy memories.

“You look fine,” I said. “But let’s stay here, this smells yummy.”

Betty seemed relieved. She set the mugs on the table. “I’ve got buttered toast points in the oven. They’re ready if you want to eat right away.”

I pulled up a chair. “Sure.”

We made small talk as we ate. The chicken salad was dry, but I didn’t say anything because I remembered with certainty that Roxanne didn’t like mayonnaise. My throat constricted as I contemplated again how much pain the truth of my situation was one day going to bring Betty.

As we chatted, I felt guilty that Roxanne badmouthed her mother so often. She really wasn’t the harridan Rox always made her out to be. I had thought, more than once over the years, how Roxanne often set her mother up as the fall guy in some story she was telling. Mostly to win me to her side of the argument. She would relate something she had done, and how her mother had criticized her, depending on my knee-jerk loyalty.

Shame on me.
Because it was clear Betty adored Roxanne. Her way of showing it may have rubbed Rox the wrong way, but Betty loved her daughter and always tried to help her out.

As I speared a piece of melon, I wondered if maybe that said more about Roxanne than it did her mother. And maybe my blind support of Rox said more about
me
than it did my friend.

I set my fork down.

“Do you want more toast?” Betty asked.

“No, no thank you, I’m full. I’ve gained ten pounds since I got out of the hospital. None of my clothes fit.” I took a big gulp of coffee.

“Well, it looks good on you. Before I forget, let me give you something.” Betty grabbed her purse off the counter and handed me a white envelope. “That’s the insurance check to replace your car. It’s a little over five thousand dollars. I endorsed it over to you. We can take the rental back after lunch if you don’t have other plans.”

“Do we have to do it today?”

“No. The contract is for an open-ended rental. But don’t you want to look for a new car? I’m free if you’d like some company. And I’ll be glad to kick in some more for a down payment if you need it.”

Betty poured herself another cup of coffee. Her hand trembled as she stirred in sugar, and I again wondered if she was ill.

“Ah, let me think about it,” I said. “I’d rather just pay another week on the loaner, and look around.”

I stuck the money in my purse, feeling a total imposter. Wearing Roxanne’s clothes and sleeping in her bed was one thing. Now I’d have to go to the bank and deposit the money, signing her name. I wondered what my legal status was.

Panic itched inside me as I pictured explaining to the bankers why my signature no longer looked like Roxanne Ruiz’s. I massaged my temples and tried to listen with my whole brain to what Betty was saying.

“. . .  you can get the insurance again. That won’t be a problem.” Betty stared at me. “Headache?”

“No. No.” There were three kinds of cookies on a plate; I chose the biggest one. “These are good. Macadamia nuts?”

“Yes. Why did you take that one, Roxanne? You don’t like nuts.”

“I like nuts now. I’ve changed.” I kept eating, though I felt like I would choke.

“Really? Well, enough small talk. How’s your memory?  Anything coming back to you, now that you’re in your own home?”

“Yes. I’ve got a lot to tell you there.” I gripped the cup tighter, reminding myself to stick as close to the truth as possible. Wasn’t that what the guys in the police shows on TV always told the undercover cops?

“On Tuesday night I went out to dinner with Bradley, and started to remember a few things. A lot of things. From the past. Places. Things that happened to me.” I put my hand on Betty’s. “I’m happy to report I remember who I am now. Not everything about my life,” I added quickly. “But some major things, the big picture of people I know, my job at St. Anne’s. Some details are lacking, like who cuts my hair and what I got for my birthday this year, but I’m almost there.”

I hoped she wouldn’t ask as Seth had about details from Roxanne’s childhood. I knew very little about her before we met.

“This happened
last
Tuesday, and you’re just telling me now?” Betty sounded upset.

“
This
Tuesday, yes. A couple of days ago. I needed some time to digest all that. Please don’t be hurt I didn’t call you right away,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to keep you out of the loop. I just needed some space. It’s all been so unreal.”

Betty got up and surprised me with another hug. “I’m not hurt, Roxanne. I understand completely. But this is such wonderful news, sweetheart. I can’t believe it!” She had tears in her eyes as she placed both hands gently on my face. “Did you call Dr. Patel? What did he say? I’m sure he’s thrilled you’ve had a breakthrough like this.”

“No. No, I haven’t called him.”

She dropped her hands. “Oh? Well, I think you should. Soon. You need to bring your doctor up to speed since it will certainly change the course of his therapy. If you don’t remember everything yet, it’s obvious you need more help. And if you tell him before your next appointment, it will give him time to plan.”

“I don’t think I need to see him anymore,” I inserted quickly.

“Roxanne! Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you need to continue your treatment. My God, you were in a coma for days, you had a major head trauma. You may not know this, but the EMTs at the scene said y
ou died!
There are many health repercussions you may not even be aware of. And if you have holes in your memory, you have to at least keep up with therapy until you get the whole thing back.”

Betty had worked herself up in a way I’d never seen. My take on her up to now was that she kept a lid on her emotions, very self-controlled. But seeing her this overwrought, I felt her fear, and understood the hell it must have been for her as a mother.

A chill of revulsion crept down my neck at the realization she’d have to go through that again.

“Can you listen to me for a moment?” I urged. “I am still going to get some help with these issues. I’m just taking my time.”

“Promise me, Roxanne. Promise me you’ll call Dr. Patel and at least tell him what’s happened.” She laid her hands over mine. “He needs to know so he can help you.”

A terrible pun, ‘
Caught between Rox and a hard place,’
flitted through my brain. “I don’t feel comfortable with Dr. Patel. I might work with someone else. Or take a break from all psychiatrists for a while, especially since I haven’t taken the antidepressants for almost a month now, and I feel fine.”

“You stopped them all, cold turkey?”

“Yes. The days I was off them in the hospital kind of jump-started all that. And now I’m good, sleeping pretty well, and everything.”

I could almost see the wheels spinning behind Betty’s eyes.

“Who?” she finally asked. “Who are you going to work with? Eve Madison, the doctor treating your depression?”

“No. Dr. Ryan Seth. He’s a good guy.”

“Ryan Seth? He isn’t a psychiatrist, Roxanne. He isn’t even a medical doctor, for heaven’s sake. What is his doctorate in, Eastern philosophy, or something?”

No, it’s a little weirder than that.

His master’s degree, from the long defunct Elysian University in Taos, was in the field of Human Spirituality, a fact that made even Seth cringe now. He once had the diploma on the wall of his office. Right next to a Beatles poster, the one from
Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band
.

“Ryan Seth is very gifted. He gets to the heart of a problem faster than anyone I’ve ever met,” I said.

“But, but, isn’t he blind?”

“Yes. He is blind. But I’m not going to him for driving lessons. How is that relevant?”

Betty frowned. “It’s not. Of course it’s not. Forgive me for saying such an idiotic thing. But I’m concerned someone like that might not be equipped to help you with all the residual problems you may experience.”

“Like?”

“Guilt, grief. My God, you’ve lost your best friend. Anxiety. A relapse into the depression you’ve suffered on and off your whole adult life. The stress you’re sure to feel going back to work with people who were primarily Cathy’s friends. That takes a psychiatrist, surely.”

This was a surprising thing for her to say. Was that what Roxanne had told her? “They’re my friends too, Betty. I think you’re worrying ahead of the curve. Don’t be so negative.”

She inhaled sharply. “Roxanne, I’d appreciate if you would stop calling me Betty. I’m your mother. You never called me Betty before the accident, and I don’t particularly care for it.”

“Sorry.” I pinched the skin on the back of my left hand, reminding myself to be more careful
.
“Look, this is the bottom line. I don’t know what is going to happen with my psyche in the immediate future. But it’s
my
psyche.”

“I can accept that.”

“Good. And for many reasons, I want you to understand I don’t feel like the same person I was before the accident. I’m not the same person.” My face warmed but I pushed on. “It’s frightening, and stressful, but it’s a fact. Experience changes a person. I need to learn to deal with that fact now. We
all
need to deal with that fact. Nothing is as it was before July 9.”

Betty blinked several times. “I’m impressed, Roxanne. You sound strong and sure of yourself. All I want to do is caution you to not let yourself slide back into old problems without reaching out for help. You’ve done that a few times in the past, if I may remind you.”

It felt as if she’d slapped me. This was the mother that Roxanne had always portrayed to me. The mother who thought she knew best. The woman who always seemed more than ready for Roxanne to fail or make the wrong choice.

“You don’t need to remind me,” I said. “I do remember many of the bad times I went through. But I need you to pull for me now, okay? Not bring up past mistakes, or expect me to fail.”

Betty’s eyes filled with tears. She started to speak, but hesitated and swallowed before promising, “I will. I always try to expect success, I hope you believe that. And try not to worry about feeling so different. Just remember, it’s only been a few weeks. You’ll be well some day, a brand new self. I understand that.”

“Thanks.” I took her hand. Her fingers were cold and stiff. “Are you okay? You look a little tired today.”

Betty frowned. “I told you before the accident that I had what I thought were some pre-menopause problems. It’s turned out to be more serious. I found out this week I have to have surgery. A hysterectomy.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry. Are you sure? Did you get a second opinion?”

“Yes. I got three opinions, actually. I have had two suspicious Pap tests in the last year. My doctor thinks it best if we do this. Now, before there’s any real problem.”

“Well, let me know what I can do. I’ll drive you. And I can come and stay.” I felt awkward. This woman needed her daughter’s compassion and support. And all she got was my offering to be a chauffeur or maid.

“Thank you, my dear. But Gran will come stay. You can visit and be the bright spot in our day. You know how I need that when Ruth’s here more than a week.”

Betty laughed. I joined in, thinking of the kind old gal who had visited in the hospital. I didn’t remember ever spending any time with her before the accident. This was going to be tricky.

Betty leaned back in her chair. She seemed more at ease. “You look more gorgeous than ever, by the way. Have you seen Michael?”