Still Life (9 page)

“That’s good. Now, slowly and carefully, start moving her fingers up and down, one at a time, real slow, real gentle. That’s right. See? You got it. And now rotate the wrist, just like I’m doing. Good. Good. See? You’re a natural.”

Drew scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“I
know
so. Don’t sell yourself short. Casey needs you right now.”

“Trust me. I’m the last thing she needs.” She quickly returned Casey’s hand to the therapist.

“And why is that?” Jeremy’s hands began massaging Casey’s forearms.

This isn’t my imagination. I can really feel that.

“Does the phrase ‘black sheep of the family’ ring any bells?” Drew asked.

Jeremy chuckled. “I understand there are quite a few black sheep in this particular family.”

Drew laughed along with him. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

“I like to acquaint myself as best I can with my patients’ histories.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with this family. We’re a pretty screwed—up bunch. Except for Casey. She was always perfect.”

“I guess it’s hard trying to compete with perfection,” Jeremy stated, manipulating Casey’s arm at the elbow.

“Oh, I stopped competing early.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“What about you?” Drew asked. “Any brothers and sisters?”

“Two of each.”

“Wow. Big family. Any children of your own?”

“No. My wife and I were thinking about it, then she thought she’d rather have them with somebody else, so we’re divorced now. You?”

“I have a daughter. No husband,” Drew added quickly.

“Hello, Jeremy,” Warren said from the doorway. “Drew, maybe you should leave and let the therapist do his job.”

“That’s all right. She’s not bothering—”

“Sean and Lola are waiting for you downstairs.”

“We need to talk,” Drew protested.

“Not now.”

“That’s all right,” Jeremy interjected. “I can come back in a few minutes. Nice meeting you, Drew.”

“You too.”

“Please tell me you weren’t flirting with your sister’s therapist,” Warren said as soon as Jeremy was gone.

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like she can see me.”

“I’m not having this discussion.”

“He looks a bit like Tiger Woods, don’t you think?”

“I’m not having that discussion either. Look, your boyfriend’s downstairs with Lola. You probably shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer. Here’s some money to tide you over.”

“What am I supposed to do with five hundred lousy dollars?”

“It’s all the money I have on me.”

“I don’t want
your
money. I want
my
money.”

“It’s the best I can do for the time being.”

“How long does this go on?”

“I don’t know, Drew. It’s a complicated situation.”

“Then simplify it.”

“My hands are tied.”

“Untie them.”

“Don’t you understand? It’s not up to me.”

Please. I can’t listen to any more of this.

“Oh, God, look at her,” Drew said suddenly. “Look at her face.”

“What’s wrong with her face?”

“She can hear us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She can hear us, Warren. I know she can.”

Casey felt Warren inch closer, his breath brushing against her lips as his eyes scanned hers.

“You’re crazy, Drew,” he said after a long pause. “Now please. Do us all a favor and go home.” There was another pause, followed by a deep, weary sigh. When Warren spoke again, his voice was softer, more conciliatory. “Look. I’ll talk to someone in my firm about your situation. Hopefully, we’ll be able to work something out.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Sorry if I said anything to upset you,” Warren said.

“Apology accepted. So you’ll call me after you speak to your associate?”

“I’ll call.”

Casey listened to the click of her sister’s Manolos as she walked briskly from the room without saying good-bye.

NINE

“O
kay, are you ready, Casey?” Dr. Ein asked.

What? Did you say something?

“This is a pretty big step we’re taking.”

What are you talking about? What big step?

Casey felt herself slipping back and forth between the cracks of consciousness and sleep. She’d been dreaming about Janine, the years they’d spent rooming together at college. She wasn’t ready to wake up, to leave her younger, more carefree—
careless
?—self behind. She wasn’t ready for any big steps.

“Once we disconnect this last wire, you’ll be officially breathing on your own,” the doctor announced.

I’m sorry. Did you say something?

Casey saw herself sitting on Janine’s bed in the small two-bedroom apartment they once shared. The apartment was on the top floor of a three-story brownstone, located half a mile off the Brown University campus, on a tree-lined street full of once-stately old homes that now functioned as extended university residences, housing a steady succession of undergraduate and graduate students.

“What’s he saying?” Janine was asking impatiently from beside her. “Casey, what’s he saying?”

I think he said something about breathing on my own.

“Casey, come on,” Janine urged, as Casey surrendered to the pull of the past. “You’re not doing it right. Let me try.”

“What do you mean I’m not doing it right? How can I be doing it wrong?” Casey watched the young woman she used to be surrender the glass she’d been holding between her ear and the wall to Janine’s eager hands. “He’s not saying anything.”

“Impossible,” Janine said. “They’re talking about me. I can feel it.”

Casey had met Janine three months earlier, when she’d answered an ad for a roommate Janine had placed in the campus newspaper. “I don’t know,” Janine had said when she opened her door, looking Casey up and down and skipping such pleasantries as “Hello. How are you?” She’d stepped back to allow Casey inside, not even trying to hide the once and then twice-over she was giving Casey. “You’re way too pretty. Don’t even try to tell me you weren’t prom queen.”

Casey hadn’t been sure what to say, so she’d said nothing, deciding it was probably best to let the tall girl with the piercing blue eyes do most of the talking. She’d already decided she wanted the apartment—it was bright and inviting, despite its small size, although it could use a touch of color, she’d thought, mentally adding a couple of chartreuse pillows to the bland beige sofa, and throwing a zebra-striped rug across the light hardwood floor. A vase of fresh-cut flowers would also be nice, she’d thought as Janine motioned for her to sit down. “Okay, so here’s the story,” Janine had begun without bothering to introduce herself. “I’m loud, bossy, and opinionated. I hate animals, and that includes goldfish, so pets are out of the question, and I’ll throw up if you start waxing rhapsodic about the puppy you had when you were three. I’m looking for someone who’s neat, quiet, and smart, because I hate stupid.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“Not so quiet, either,” came the instant retort, immediately followed by a brilliant smile. “You’re not some sort of weird psycho-killer, are you?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you ever see
Single White Female
?”

Casey shook her head.

“You’re lucky. It was terrible. So, what are you studying?”

“I’m doing a double major in psychology and English.”

“Yeah? English was enough for me. Switched from prelaw, when I decided I hate lawyers. Except the cute ones, of course.”

“Of course,” Casey agreed, although what she was thinking was that Janine had a lot of hates. Three in as many minutes.

The interview had progressed relatively smoothly from there, Casey careful to say as little as possible, letting Janine expound on whatever subject she chose. Half an hour later, Janine was handing over the second set of keys to the apartment. “Okay. We’ll give it a shot. At the very least, you might help attract a better class of men.”

“So, okay, do you hear anything?” Casey was saying later as Janine slid the glass slowly along the wall, looking for the perfect spot.

“Just a lot of moving around.”

Janine adjusted her position on her double bed, hunching down on her knees and reangling the glass at her ear.

“What are we listening for anyway? Who is this guy?”

“I don’t know his name. I just know he’s gorgeous. My type exactly. He was outside talking to Peter, who is
so
not my type, even though he practically drools every time he sees me. Anyway, gorgeous guy gave me this look when I was walking up the front steps, like he liked what he saw. You know the look.” Janine lowered her eyes and pursed her lips to illustrate. “You know what I mean. And we all ended up coming inside together, although Peter, the dumb-ass, didn’t think to introduce us. Or maybe he did, but didn’t want to. Anyway, I overheard Peter telling him my name as we were going up the stairs, so as soon as I got to the top, I ran inside and told you to get a glass. I can’t believe these walls are so damn soundproof. I thought the walls in these old buildings were supposed to be paper-thin.”

“Let me try again.”

There was a knock on the door. “You expecting company?” Janine asked accusingly.

Casey shook her head.

“Get rid of them, whoever it is,” Janine barked as Casey left the room and approached the front door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Peter, from next door.”

Casey swiveled around to find Janine at her back. “What are you waiting for?” Janine whispered hoarsely, pulling her black T-shirt tight across her breasts and fluffing out her hair as she signaled for Casey to open the door.

Casey took a deep breath and pulled open the door to the apartment. Peter, their stick-thin, twenty-year-old neighbor, stood before her with a lopsided grin on his narrow, unlined face, a bottle of red wine in his right hand, and a slyly handsome young man with pale blue eyes and a knowing smile to his left.

“My friend and I thought you might be interested in sharing a bottle of wine,” Peter ventured shyly.

“Your friend have a name?” Janine asked, walking around Casey and assuming control.

“Eric,” said the handsome young man beside Peter, stepping inside without waiting to be asked. “And you are?” he asked, looking directly at Casey.

“She’s Casey. I’m Janine,” Janine answered. “What have you got there?”

“It’s a merlot,” Peter answered.

“A merlot,” Janine repeated, as if she knew what that meant. “Casey, could you get us some glasses?”

Casey wondered if there were any clean glasses available, since it had been Janine’s turn last night to wash the dishes, and she hadn’t quite gotten around to it. The one clean glass they had was in Janine’s bedroom. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll help you,” offered Eric.

“No need,” Casey said quickly, catching the look from Janine.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Janine instructed, following Casey into the tiny kitchen at the back of the apartment. “Damn that Peter,” she whispered. “He probably told Eric he likes me, so Eric’s hands are pretty much tied.”

Casey rinsed out four glasses while Janine watched and fretted. “How am I going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Maybe you could distract Peter for a while, get him talking—if I remember correctly, he’s a real movie buff—and that way, I could have a few minutes with Eric, let him know it’s just not happening with his friend.”

Casey tried. She sat down on the tan chair across from the sofa, allowing Janine to occupy the middle of the couch between Peter and Eric, and she gamely sought to engage Peter in a conversation about movies, even though she disliked both the science-fiction and horror genres he seemed to favor.

“You’re kidding me. You never saw
The Vanishing
?” Peter asked incredulously. “How could you miss that one? It’s a classic.”

“What is?” Eric asked, breaking away from whatever Janine had been telling him, abandoning her, open-mouthed, in the middle of a sentence.

“She’s never seen
The Vanishing
,” Peter said with a shake of his head.

“Oh, you’ve got to see
The Vanishing
,” Eric repeated.

“Isn’t that the one with Kiefer Sutherland and Sandra Bullock?” Janine asked, leaning forward and feigning interest.

“Jeff Bridges plays this creepy serial killer who kidnaps people and buries them alive in his backyard,” Peter said, as if Janine hadn’t spoken.

“Except you should really see the original Dutch version,” Eric interrupted. “It’s even better.”

“If you can find it,” Peter said. “Not all video stores carry it.”

“I might be able to find you a copy,” Eric offered, lowering his eyes and pursing his lips, an exact duplication of the look Janine had shown Casey earlier, the look that said he was interested. Casey pretended not to notice.

“I’m not really into horror,” she said.

“This is more suspense than horror. There’s not a lot of blood and guts. Nobody slicing people up with a chainsaw.”

“Just burying them alive,” Casey said, and both boys laughed more than was necessary.

“Anybody here see
Halloween
?” Janine asked. “Or
Friday the Thirteenth
? The first one, of course.”

“Who hasn’t seen those?” Peter said dismissively.

“I haven’t,” Casey said.

“Really?” Eric asked. “I have a copy. I could bring it over one night. Hold your hand, in case you get scared.”

Casey jumped to her feet. “Anybody for some cheese and crackers? Peter, why don’t you give me a hand,” she said in the same breath.

“I’ll help you,” Eric offered, already at Casey’s side before Peter had a chance to respond.

“I don’t think we
have
any cheese and crackers,” Janine said with a smile.

“I’m sure we can find something,” Eric said, taking Casey’s elbow and leading her from the room. As soon as they reached the kitchen, he surrounded her with his arms and kissed her.

“What are you doing?” Casey asked, pulling away, although her entire body was tingling.

“Kissing you,” he said, kissing her again. “And I believe that time, you might have kissed me back.”

“Find anything cheesy?” Janine’s voice was pleasant enough, although Casey could feel it leaking acid.

Casey immediately broke free of Eric’s embrace. She knew that anything she said at this point would be wrong, so she said nothing.

“Like I said, I think we’re all out of snack food,” Janine continued, followed by a glorious smile.

The impromptu gathering broke up minutes later, when Janine announced she had an assignment she had to complete by morning.

“How about dinner next Saturday?” Eric whispered to Casey on his way out. “I’ll call you,” he said before she could answer.

“So,” Janine said, smiling as she closed the apartment door. “That went well.”

“I’m really sorry,” Casey apologized immediately. “Of course I won’t have dinner with him.”

“What are you talking about? Of course you will. Are you crazy? He’s gorgeous. And you like him. Why wouldn’t you go?”

“Because
you
like him, and you saw him first.”

Janine pushed her dark hair away from her face. “Don’t be such a dork. Just because I saw him first doesn’t mean I own him. Clearly, he’s not interested in me. He wants you. And just as clearly, you want him.”

“I’m not sure
what
I want.”

“Hey, I’m not blind. I saw that kiss you planted on him in the kitchen.”

“He kissed
me
. I was caught completely by surprise,” Casey protested.

“Maybe the first time,” Janine corrected. “Not the second.”

Casey said nothing. Janine had witnessed both kisses? Did she have X-ray vision? Or was she just taking an educated guess?

“Close your mouth,” Janine told her, clearly enjoying Casey’s discomfort. “A fly will get in.”

“You really wouldn’t mind if I went out with him?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Yes,” Casey insisted. “Of course it would matter.”

“Then you’re being stupid. And you know I hate stupid. God, what awful wine.” She picked up the bottle. “Guess we could stick a candle in it and pretend it’s the sixties.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Don’t tell me they want it back.”

“Who is it?” Casey asked, holding her breath and not moving.

“Casey,” the familiar voice sobbed.

“Drew?” Casey asked incredulously. She ran to the door and opened it. Her sixteen-year-old sister stood in the hallway, her eyes swollen almost shut from crying, her face wet with tears. “What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go. Can I come in?”

“What? Of course you can come in. My God, look at you. You’re a mess.” Casey led her sister toward the living room sofa, tossing the bright green pillows to the floor and sitting down beside her, her fingers reaching out to smooth the tangle of hair away from her face. “What’s going on? I thought you were in New York.”

“I was. I went home for the weekend.” She looked up at Janine. “You must be Janine. Sorry to barge in on you this way.”

Janine joined them on the sofa. “That’s all right. Are you okay?”

Drew shook her head back and forth. “No.”

“What happened?”

Drew wiped away some stubborn tears. “I hate that stupid school Dad and Alana have me at.”

“But it’s supposed to be so good,” Casey said. “Much nicer than the one I went to.”

“I know. It’s ‘the best private school in the country.’ I know, I know. But I hate it there. It’s awful. Everybody’s so damn … studious.” She glanced at the bottle of wine in Janine’s hand. “Can I have some of that?”

“No,” Casey said. “In case anybody hasn’t told you, sixteen isn’t the legal drinking age in Rhode Island.”

“Come on, Casey.”

“Tell me what happened.”

A slight pause, then, “I got into a little trouble at school.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Nothing serious. They caught me smoking dope in the teachers’ parking lot.”

“Smoking dope? Drew!”