They Call Me Crazy (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Cass

D
r. Button has been down three times in the past week. I’m beginning to wonder if he just needs a new friend to talk to. Either way, I don’t mind, and I know that whatever I tell him will be between us. Clay says when this is over, he’ll drive me to Springfield to see the shrink, as if I’m not capable of making an hour trip by myself. That’s okay. The company doesn’t bother me.

Today, Dr. Button mentions Mama. There is so much there. I don’t think I’m ready yet. He’s fine with that. He says it will come in time, but sooner or later, we’re going to have to talk about it. He seems to think that all my troubles started then. I can’t say I disagree.

He says he’s convinced that for all these years, I’ve been taking a strange combination of drugs that I really didn’t need, and that those drugs have caused me to act irrationally in certain situations and even forget things, hallucinate, and fantasize. I tell him I still see dead people sometimes, and he appears to take it in stride. I’m glad because I enjoy talking to Old Man Booker. And Grandpa Jack. And Roland, now.

I have noticed a difference, though. For over a week, I’ve been on one pill. One tiny pill. And I see a lot more clearly. I’m remembering things that I sometimes wish had stayed in the fog. But Dr. Button says I need to talk about that stuff, and he’s willing to listen. That’s good because some things you can’t share with everyone.

For example, Roland and Maryanne. I guess I always knew Maryanne had a thing for Roland. Hell, all the girls did. That dark hair, blue eyes, and that smile—who wouldn’t? But he was always mine, so I assumed no one ever acted on it. I guess I shouldn’t have thought that way; I certainly wouldn’t now. Maryanne is the opposite of me, and I never would have thought Roland would go for that. But he did, obviously.

When I found out about Shaylene, I wasn’t entirely surprised. I don’t know why. Maybe I saw it somewhere in the past. I wanted to be mad at Maryanne, but I couldn’t. I’ve been angry with her for all these years, even hated her at times, but for sleeping with my husband, somehow, I couldn’t be. She was my friend, and besides, how could she have said no to Roland? He was hard to say no to.

When she came back with the baby, I didn’t believe her story. I didn’t care. I just knew we had a baby now.
Yes, we.
My best friend had a baby and no husband; I had a husband and couldn’t have a baby. It was a strange family, but I considered it mine. Sure, she was careful with me around the baby, but I couldn’t fault her for that. She was protecting her child. After all, it was pretty common knowledge that I was nuts. But she did trust me with her, at least until I felt her pulling away. I didn’t want her to go; I didn’t want the baby to go. I didn’t understand it at the time, so the only way I knew to react was to start hating her. Years went by, then I lost my temper at work, and all hell broke loose. And then I was considered crazy
and
dangerous.

When Roland moved us out to the hill, Maryanne was angry, and I appreciated that. Roland, of course, said it was for my welfare, but now I know differently. He had a secret, he and Maryanne. Her anger was probably more about losing him than me. I hated her for taking Shaylene; she hated me for taking Roland. But Roland is the one who took everything.

I realize that I miss Maryanne, and I want to make things right. At first, I thought it was Roland that kept me and her and Clay together, but now that I’m thinking clearer, I see he was really keeping us apart. It’s a strange family, but it’s mine. And I want it back.

Thinking over the years, I realize my best memories of Roland and me were when I needed him, and he was there to take care of me. On the days I felt strong, he wasn’t around much. I think he needed me to be insecure and in a daze in order for him to love me. Maybe he thought of me as Mrs. Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater. I don’t know.

And I don’t know why I killed him. But it felt right, and I wasn’t sad about it. I guess my mind was holding my hate for him deep on the inside but couldn’t really bring that to the surface. I guess you could say it was a form of self-defense. He was trying to kill me first. I’m sure of that.

“But you didn’t kill him, Cass.” Dr. Button’s voice startles me.

I forgot I was with him, and apparently, I had been speaking my thoughts out loud. I lower my head and smile. “If I tell you something, is it a secret? I mean, on the order of a lawyer and a client?”

“Of course, Cass. You know that.”

“Even if it’s about a crime? A really big crime?”

He peers at me over his little glasses but doesn’t answer.

I’m determined not to waver. “I did kill him, you know.”

He stares at me for a long time, his expression unchanging. Then he smiles and changes the subject. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t understand.

“Can we go back to the past, Cass? I’m curious. You talk about Roland and Maryanne, but where was Clay Adams in all this?”

I smile at the mention of Clay’s name. He and I have gotten a lot closer in the past few weeks, and I like that. So does he. I can tell. He protected Shaylene when Roland wasn’t man enough to claim her, and now he protects me.

“Clay. I don’t know, Dr. Button. He was there, though. He was always there.”

He takes off his glasses, wipes them on his shirt sleeve, then puts them back on. He starts tapping his finger on the table—
tap, tap
—thinking. “Cass, we need to talk about something else. According to the coroner, you didn’t kill Roland, so let’s just go with that. However, you did break some other laws, and I don’t think Richard is going to be able to get you out of everything.” He pauses for a moment. “I know you might not agree with my idea, but I’m going to push for you to be in a hospital for whatever your sentence is. It won’t be long, I’m sure, and in a hospital, I can keep seeing you.”

“No. I can’t. I’ll go crazy in there. I can’t go to one of those places. Please.” I feel the first tear roll down my face.

“Cass, it’s better than jail. What are you afraid of?”

I wrap my arms around my body to stop it from shaking. “I’m afraid I’ll be dumped there. I’ve seen people being left and forgotten about, and I’m afraid. My mama was in one of those places too many times, and the last time she got out, she hung herself.” I swallowed hard. “She was alone in there. And I’m afraid I will be, too.”

“You won’t be alone, I promise. Your grandmother will be there, and Lola and me, and Clay Adams, I’m sure. You won’t be alone or forgotten.”

“I have a hard time with trust sometimes.” My head is down, and I wonder if he even heard me.

“It’s time to take a chance again. It’s time to start believing in a few of us.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Maryanne

I
t’s been two weeks since I sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee with Roland. I miss those talks. Even though they were never enough, they were at least something. Now I have nothing.

I quit running on Monday. My stomach was rolling, and my head hurt, so I decided there was no harm in skipping a day. Then I missed Tuesday and Wednesday and no longer saw the point.

The house is quiet. Shaylene went with Clay this morning. She wanted to help him with some last-minute things to do with the funeral, and she wanted to be with
him
today. “Roland was his only brother. He must feel very alone,” she said.

I resisted the urge to scream, “What about me?”

There are two weeks of school left. Principal Leo has asked that I take those two weeks and do something about the mess I’ve created. That’s not how he put it, of course; it was more like “Take care of yourself,” but I know what he meant. He’s been getting calls from members of the PTA and some parents who think that my current notoriety as the town wench sets a bad example for their children. It won’t be long until someone decides to start talking about my bar trips, and then I’ll be ruined. I hate this small town. They love you when you’re up, but they can so quickly bring you down.

“Damn you, Roland.”

It could have been different. It could have been right. He promised so many times, but then he would back down, hiding behind his need to be responsible for Cass. Where was his need to be responsible for Shaylene and me? But that last time, I knew what he really meant. He said he was going to take Cass somewhere and get her some help. He seemed so sincere. But I know he was going to put her somewhere so we could be together. I just know it.

Then she killed him. Of course, they said it was a heart attack, but she caused it. With all her craziness, her drama, and her neediness, she stressed him to the limit. It’s still her fault. It’s all her fault.

Yesterday, Shaylene got her acceptance letter to Kansas University, along with a full scholarship. She’s so excited. I’m proud, but all I can think of is that she will be leaving, too. Soon, I will have no one. Nothing. That’s exactly what I’ve had my entire adult life. And I’m so tired.

As I stand up, I knock the edge of the table and spill what’s left of my coffee. The caramel-colored liquid flows over the glass tabletop and drips off the edge onto my white robe, leaving a splattered stain. I watch the white turning dark, the clean becoming spoiled, and know even with a deep washing, it will still be stained. I take off the robe and use it to wipe up the mess, not caring anymore.

I walk to the bedroom and listen to the silence in the house. It’s Mother’s house. She left it to me when she died, and I kept it so I would always have a home for myself, Shaylene, and Roland. The quiet is appropriate. It’s only me.

I’ve decided to wear my gray suit to the funeral, the one I save for business occasions. As I hold it in front of me, I realize that I may have chosen it so I would blend in and not be noticed. I throw it back in the closet, not bothering to hang it up, and grab my low-cut black dress to wear instead. I scrounge through shoe boxes for my four-inch black T-straps.

It should be me sitting in the front row, the grieving widow. But if I’m going to be disrespected as the other woman, then I’m certainly going to play the part.

I sit on my bed and listen to the silence again. I’m out of tears, out of reasons.

I am so alone.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Clay

I
expect there will be a huge turnout for the funeral today. Rolly was a popular guy, but the idea that people will get to see murderer-saved-by-a-heart-attack Cassie and mistress-baby-mama Maryanne in the same building is novelty enough. In this small town, they love any drama they can get.

My first concern in all this mess has been Shaylene. She’s still trying to sort everything out, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. She will one day, and I keep letting her know I’ll be right beside her when she’s ready. Her friends seem to think it’s great that she’s part of some tangled love triangle, and she just plays it cool. She still tells everyone that I’m her real dad, no matter what. I’m proud of that. She has grown into a woman with courage, heart, and loyalty. She’s my daughter. Yes, she is.

Shaylene came with me to the funeral home to make sure everything was ready before the others start to arrive. Cassie asked me to, so of course, I said yes. I’m glad we came. The funeral home put out light blue candles, not white. I make them fix that immediately. Babe will have a fit if the candles aren’t white.

“I don’t know why people sent so many flowers,” Shaylene says.

“I guess that’s their way of saying they appreciated him in some way.”

Shaylene cocks her head. “I wonder if any of them sent him flowers when he was alive. Doesn’t make much sense to waste them once you’re dead.”

I smile at her. It sure doesn’t.

We sit down in the back pew, and I check my watch. People should start arriving soon. The casket we rented for Rolly to lie in is up front. I haven’t gone up to say goodbye. I don’t want to yet.

“So are you excited about going off to school?” I ask.

Shaylene has always made top grades in school and has always been an athlete, so it didn’t surprise me one bit when she got a scholarship to play volleyball at KU. It’s the best thing that could happen for her. She will get out of this town and make her own life.

“It’s going to be great.” She takes in a deep breath. “I’m going to miss you and Mom, though.”

I put my hand on her knee and squeeze. “I promise I’ll come to visit. Gotta make sure those boys aren’t acting up.”

She rolls her eyes the same way her mother does. “They don’t bother me. I can take care of myself.”

That, I don’t doubt one bit. Shaylene has never been boy crazy the same way that some of the teenage girls around town are. She plays sports and hangs out with her teammates more than worrying about any boys. Not that they don’t try, I’m sure. After all, she’s a beautiful girl. She just doesn’t seem interested. That’s fine. Trouble will come soon enough. There’s no need in pushing the inevitable.

“Dad, can I ask you something?” She looks at me sideways in a way that says I probably won’t like what she’s about to ask.

“Sure.”

“What’s up with you and Mrs. Adams?”

I blink several times. That’s not at all what I expected. I feel something lodge in my throat and can’t say anything.

I don’t really know what’s up with Cassie and me. Maybe we’ve always been kindred souls, boats that pass in the night, always with another in between us. A big ship. But now that the middle ship has sunk, we can actually see each other.

I know it’s strange. After all, she is my brother’s widow, and at one point, she was his accused murderess. But that doesn’t matter to me. And it doesn’t seem to matter to her.

“I don’t know.” That’s the best I can say to my daughter-woman.

“Don’t know about what?” Cassie’s voice makes us both turn.

I didn’t hear anyone come in, but there she is, standing behind us. She has on a simple black dress and a hat with netting over her face. It’s a giant bug on her small frame, but it seems to fit. I stare at her.

Shaylene lets out a giggle and rises from the pew. She goes straight to Cassie and gives her a hug. “I’m sorry about everything. It will all get better.”

Cassie’s eyes are wide open as Shaylene wraps her arms around her. Then Cass shuts her eyes and hugs Shaylene back.

I don’t know much about the colors that Babe talks about all the time, but I swear Cassie is bathed in light. It is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. And that makes me happy, too.

After Shaylene lets go, Cassie goes to the front of the chapel and looks into the coffin. She tips her head slightly toward the funeral director as if to say, “Good job,” then takes her place on the front pew. Of course, the grieving widow would be expected to sit up there, but Cassie appears to be far from grieving. She was married to the man for almost two decades, but she behaves as though she’s saying goodbye to a childhood friend who’s going away for a while and will one day return, not a spouse who’s gone forever.

As Roland’s brother, I’m to sit with her, constituting his entire family. Shaylene wants to join us, but she isn’t sure if Cassie would appreciate it or not. I tell her that Cassie won’t mind, but she chooses to sit behind us with Babe, Lola, and Richard.

We don’t talk while we wait for the chapel to fill. Benny stands at the back, squinting and studying, as if he’s still searching for a nonexistent murderer. Daze and Pet show up dressed in their best jeans, with their wives in their Sunday dresses. Fat Tina and an entire crew from the strip club take up two pews. A group of second and third shifters from the mop factory sit behind the strippers, people who didn’t really work with Roland but must have felt the need to show up anyway.

And they keep coming. I swear there are people here who haven’t seen or talked to Rolly in twenty years.

I begin staring straight ahead, avoiding the whitened corpse of my brother in front of me, then I sense a change in the murmurs behind me. I feel a chill and grab the back of my neck, trying to hold down the hairs. I turn to see Maryanne standing at the back in the center aisle. All eyes are on her, and rightfully so.

She’s dressed in black—hooker black, I call it. Her tight dress has spaghetti straps. She’s perched on high heels and wearing a lot of makeup. She definitely does not look like a fifth-grade teacher.

She sits toward the back, on the end of the aisle, and tries to keep her chin up, not focusing in any direction or talking to anyone around her. In a crowd of people, she looks very alone. She, like the rest of us, fell prey to Rolly’s charms or his threats, depending on the situation. She’s one of us.

Cassie touches my arm. I turn toward her and see that expression on her face that has recently become familiar to me, the same one she had when Shaylene hugged her. I know what she’s thinking, and I nod.

The preacher starts walking down the aisle, but he stops midway when Cassie gets up and heads toward the back of the chapel. I hear Babe whisper something behind me, not to anyone in particular, but more to some unseen spirit that she has brought with her. Shaylene grasps my shoulder. Her eyes are big as softballs as she shifts them between me and her mother.

Cassie stands next to Maryanne and motions for her to get up.

Daze says, “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Maryanne stands. The two women face each other, toe to toe, in the aisle of the chapel with the man they shared laid out in the front. Maryanne holds her head high, as if ready to defend her right to be here, and she does have every right.

Then Cassie reaches out and takes her hand. Together, they walk to the front. Amidst the murmurs of the crowd, one voice stands out—Grace Cloud’s.

As Maryanne and Cassie walk by her, Grace says, “Good for you.”
Yes, good for you both.

The two women sit next to me, Cassie in the middle, with me holding one of her hands and Maryanne the other. Shay still has a firm hold on my shoulder. We’re Roland’s family. All of us.

I listen to the preacher singing his praises of the Lord and promising a life after this one. I squeeze Cassie’s hand, and she squeezes back as if we’ve shared the gesture a thousand times.