Still Life

by Joy Fielding

  The sound of the front door opening and closing.

  Thank God, Casey thought. An end to this torture.

  “Guess I better put these shoes back where they belong,” Patsy said quickly, scurrying back to the closet and closing its door as the sound of angry voices reached Casey’s ears.

  “What were you doing? Hiding in the bushes all morning, waiting to ambush me?” Warren demanded from downstairs.

  “You don’t take my phone calls. You won’t answer the door.”

  Who’s that? Is that Drew?

  “Sounds like your sister’s here,” Patsy said.

  “I told you your check’s in the mail.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

  “If you’d prefer to pick up the checks in person, I can easily arrange that with my office, starting next month.”

  “That’s very generous of you, Warren. Just how long are you going to drag this out?”

  “Oh, the shit is hitting the fan,” Patsy whispered, a smile in her voice. “Here, I’ll open the door wider so we can hear better.”

  “Okay, Drew. I think we’ve more than covered this ground already,” Warren was saying. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go upstairs and say hello to my wife.”

  “Which, strangely enough, happens to be why I’m here.”

  “You’re here to see Casey?”

  “She’s my sister. I didn’t even know she was out of the hospital, for God’s sake.”

  “Maybe because you haven’t visited her in over a month.”

  “I still have a right to see her. I have a right to be kept informed.”

  “She’s the same as the last time you saw her, Drew. Nothing’s changed.”

  “I’d like to check that out for myself, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind. Go home, Drew.”

  “This is my home,” Drew told him, standing her ground. “At least half of it.”

  “Not until your thirtieth birthday.”

  “Which, in case you’ve forgotten, isn’t that far off. Fourteen months, by my calculations.”

  “A lot can happen in fourteen months,” Warren said.

  What does that mean? Casey asked silently.

  “What does that mean?” Drew asked out loud.

  “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  You really do.

  “Well, let’s see. You do drugs; you drink to excess; I’ll bet you even drive drunk, not to mention way too fast. I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance you might not be around for your thirtieth birthday.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I don’t have to threaten you, Drew. I don’t have to do anything. You’re doing a great job of messing up your life all by yourself.”

  “Are you actually going to physically stop me from going upstairs?” Drew demanded.

  “If I have to.”

  “I’ll get a court order.”

  “Be my guest,” Warren said, calling Drew’s bluff.

  “How about I go to the police instead, tell them you won’t let me see my sister?”

  Yes. Go to the police.

  “Or maybe I’ll just go to the newspapers.”

  No. Go to the police!

  “You don’t think this family’s had enough bad press?” Warren asked.

  “What is it they say?” Drew asked in return. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity?”

  “Is that what this is to you? A grab at the spotlight? Your fifteen minutes?”

  “I just want to see my sister.”

  A brief silence. Casey pictured her husband taking several steps back and motioning toward the staircase in the center of the circular hallway.

  “Thank you,” Drew said.

  The sound of angry footsteps racing up the stairs.

  “Brace yourself,” Patsy warned, with barely suppressed glee. “Here comes trouble.”

  TWENTY

  Seconds later, Drew came bursting into the room.

  Casey pictured her younger sister, arms waving, long legs striding purposefully across the threshold, dark blond hair flying behind her, her normally pale cheeks glowing with anger, her teeth chewing on her upper lip as she marched toward the bed. Oh, Drew. I’m so glad you’re here. You have to help me. You have to get me out of here.

  “Who are you?” Drew demanded.

  What do you mean? I’m Casey. Don’t you recognize me?

  “I’m Casey’s nurse,” Patsy replied, and Casey sighed inwardly with relief. “You must be Drew. I’m Patsy Lukas.”

  “Why are you wearing my sister’s scarf?”

  “What?”

  She’s still wearing my scarf!

  Casey envisioned Patsy’s hand quickly floating toward her neck, an embarrassed flush spreading across her face into her hairline.

  “Take it off,” Drew instructed.

  You tell her, little sister.

  Casey imagined Patsy slowly, and reluctantly, sliding the scarf off her neck, her eyes flashing defiance.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just …”

  “… helping yourself to my sister’s belongings?”

  “No. Of course not. I was just …”

  Just what?

  “Just what?” Drew repeated out loud.

  “What’s going on here?” Warren asked from the doorway.

  “It seems that while the devil might wear Prada,” Drew told him, an audible smirk in her voice, “the hired help wears Hermès. My sister’s Hermès, no less.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Patsy said. “I was just trying to find something to brighten Casey up a bit, make her look pretty for when you came home.”

  “Wow, you’re good,” Drew exclaimed, genuine admiration replacing the smirk in her voice. “Tell me, are you as good a nurse as you are a liar?”

  “That’s enough, Drew….” Warren said.

  “Although it doesn’t quite explain how the scarf ended up around your neck and not my sister’s,” Drew continued, ignoring Warren’s interruption.

  “I was just about to put it on her when I heard you coming up the stairs,” Patsy said, growing more comfortable with the lie. “Honestly, Warren. I wasn’t trying to—”

  “Warren?” Drew interrupted, pouncing on the name as if it were a mouse and she the cat. “So, we’re on a firstname basis, are we?”

  “You’re being very rude,” Warren told her.

  “Am I? I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going on here, Warren,” Drew said provocatively.

  Her sister had always been feisty, Casey thought, relishing Warren and Drew’s exchange, and realizing she was actually enjoying herself.

  “This is really none of your business,” Warren said.

  “My sister is very much my business.”

  “Really? Since when? Pardon my cynicism, but I don’t remember you showing much concern before Casey’s accident.”

  “There was no reason to be concerned then.”

  “Just as there isn’t now,” Warren told her. “Casey is being very well looked after.”

  “Is she?”

  The scent of lavender suddenly swirled around Casey’s head. Sturdy hands gripped the back of her neck as a swatch of silk slithered across her skin, like a long, thin snake, before curling over itself at the base of her throat.

  “There,” Patsy said. “That’s better.”

  “You think so?” Drew asked. “Personally, I don’t think the scarf does a whole lot in terms of ‘brightening Casey up a bit.’ She still looks awfully pale to me.”

  “Your sister’s fine,” Warren said. “We had a bit of a scare the other day, but …”

  “What kind of scare?”

  “Her blood pressure spiked a bit. But it’s back to normal now. The doctor said it was likely the move from the hospital.”

  “Was he here? Did he check her himself?”

  “There was no need. Patsy had everything under control.”

 
; “Well, aren’t you just the greatest thing since sliced bread?”

  “Drew …”

  “Pardon my cynicism,” Drew said, throwing Warren’s words back at him, “but when I walked in the room, Florence Nightingale here was wearing my sister’s scarf as if it was her own, so you’ll excuse me if I’m not quite as impressed with her as you seem to be.”

  “Honestly, Mr. Marshall, the scarf was for Casey….”

  “Oh, so now it’s Mr. Marshall, is it?” Drew asked. “Nice touch, Patsy. You learn fast.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything,” Warren told the nurse’s aide.

  “I think she does,” Drew said.

  “I think she already has.”

  Drew expelled a deep breath. “Okay. If that’s the way you want to play it.”

  “Nobody’s playing anything, Drew. This isn’t a game.”

  “No, it isn’t. Unfortunately.” Drew plopped down in the nearest chair. “You know, I could really use a cup of coffee.”

  “There’s a Starbucks not far from here.”

  “There’s a kitchen even closer. Patsy, dear, would you mind …?”

  “Okay, Drew, enough.”

  “It’s all right,” Patsy said. “I’m happy to do it.”

  “No,” Warren protested. “That’s not your job.”

  “Really, it’s okay,” Patsy said. “I’ll ask Mrs. Singer to put on a fresh pot.”

  “Who the hell is Mrs. Singer?”

  “I hired a housekeeper to help out with Casey.”

  “Of course. I’m sure a housekeeper is exactly what Casey needs at the moment.”

  “How do you take your coffee, Drew?” Patsy asked.

  “Hot and black.”

  “Can I bring you a cup?” she asked Warren.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, and if Mrs. Singer has baked Casey a cake or anything else she has absolutely no use for,” Drew said sweetly, “I could really go for something sweet to nibble on.”

  “Drew …” Warren said.

  “I’ll see what there is,” Patsy said quickly.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “You could lose the attitude,” Warren cautioned after Patsy had gone.

  “The woman was stealing from my sister’s closet.”

  “I’m sure she was doing no such thing.”

  “Right. Okay. Just what does she do?”

  “She’s a nurse, Drew. What do you think she does?”

  “I believe that was my question.”

  “You want the gory details?”

  “I want an answer.”

  Casey felt Warren begin pacing back and forth in front of her bed. “Fine, then. She monitors your sister’s blood pressure, inserts and removes her feeding tube, bathes her, checks her for bedsores, adjusts her catheter …”

  “Her catheter?”

  “Do you really want me to go on?”

  No. Please, no more.

  “No,” Drew said softly.

  “It’s not exactly anyone’s idea of a good time, and I was very lucky—we were very lucky—that Patsy agreed to take it on. So maybe you’d be nice enough to offer her an apology….”

  “Who takes over when Patsy goes home?”

  A pause. A small sigh, followed by a bigger one. “She doesn’t go home. She’s living here.”

  “How cozy. And Mrs. Singer? Does she live here as well?”

  “No. I have no idea where she lives.”

  “But Patsy lives here.”

  “What are you getting at, Drew?”

  “I just don’t like the kind of vibes I’m getting.”

  “And what kind of vibes would those be?”

  “Those my-sister’s-in-a-coma-and-some-tart’s-wearing-her-clothes kind of vibes,” Drew answered.

  Casey laughed silently.

  “That would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic,” Warren said.

  “I thought it was pretty funny.”

  “I love your sister, Drew.”

  Silence.

  No, don’t believe him. I know he sounds oh-so-sincere, but please, don’t believe him.

  “I know you do.”

  “Then why are we arguing?”

  Drew laughed. “You call this arguing? When Casey wakes up, you’ll have to ask her about some of the fights we used to have. Now, those were arguments.”

  “When Casey wakes up,” Warren repeated, managing to sound almost wistful, “I think we’ll find better things to talk about.”

  “You really believe she’s going to get better?”

  “I have to believe it.”

  Don’t believe anything he tells you. It’s all a con. Don’t believe any of it.

  “Have the police been in touch with you recently?” Drew asked.

  “No. You?”

  “No. I think they lost interest. Look, I hate to keep bringing this up …”

  “You want answers about your money,” Warren stated.

  “I think I’ve been pretty patient.”

  “I’m sorry that things are taking so long, but you have to understand that this is a highly unusual situation, and there are no easy answers or quick solutions. It’s going to take more time….”

  “How much more time? Months? Years?”

  Casey could hear the anger edging back into her sister’s voice.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t like this, Warren. I don’t like this one bit.”

  “Look. I know you’re upset, but I’m not the person you should be mad at. It wasn’t my idea to name your sister executor of the estate. It wasn’t my idea that you be kept on a short leash and put on a strict allowance. Those were your father’s instructions, and I’m just making sure those wishes are respected, and that Casey is protected.”

  “A little late for that, wouldn’t you say?”

  A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “What do you want from me, Drew? I’m doing everything I can. If you could just be patient a little longer, I might be able to get you a little extra something until everything’s resolved.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “I’ll call my office Monday, see what I can arrange.”

  No. Don’t be placated so easily. Please. Don’t make this just about the money.

  “But I’m still picking up some peculiar vibes,” Drew said.

  Way to go, Drew. That’s the baby sister I know and love.

  Warren sighed again. “Okay. Whatever. Have it your way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get some work done for Monday.”

  “Could you ask Patsy what’s happened to my coffee?”

  He laughed again. “Your wish is my command.”

  “And would you mind if I opened a window in here?” Drew called after him. “The smell of cheap perfume is suffocating.”

  “Just show yourself out when you’re ready to leave,” Warren called back.

  The sound of a squeaky brass handle being rotated. “There, that’s much better. Get rid of that awful smell. I always find lavender so cloying, don’t you? I mean, I know it’s supposed to make you feel all relaxed and everything, but it just sets my teeth on edge.”

  Casey felt a gentle hand at her neck, felt the silk scarf sliding from her throat.

  “That’s better,” Drew said. “I’m not a big fan of Hermès. You need something with a little more zip. I know—you can wear this.” There was a slight tapping sound, and Casey pictured Drew patting her throat. “I just bought it.”

  Again, Casey felt Drew supporting the back of her neck as she leaned forward, pressing the side of her breast against Casey’s cheek while she maneuvered something over her head. Casey felt the soft cotton of Drew’s blouse against her skin and inhaled the fresh, clean scent of baby powder. She remembered how she used to hold Drew in her arms when she was an infant, and cradle her during a thunderstorm when she was afraid, how she used to bury her nose in her sister’s soft hair and assure her everything would be all right.

  When had those assurances stopped?


  “It’s a necklace,” Drew explained, returning Casey’s head to the pillow. “It’s nothing much, really. Just a little silver chain with a tiny silver high-heeled shoe dangling from it. It reminded me of my Manolos, so I bought it. It wasn’t expensive or anything. I just liked it. Anyway, you can have it. It looks better on you anyway. What do you think?” she asked, almost as if she expected an answer. Casey pictured Drew walking back to the window, eyes drifting toward the enormous weeping willow tree in the backyard. “So, what’s up?” she asked after a pause of at least thirty seconds. “Yeah, nothing much happening with me either. Oh, except I got rid of Sean. You remember Sean. He came to the hospital with me one time. Tall, fair, kind of spacey-looking. He had a bit of that Owen Wilson thing going on. Anyway, I dumped him. I’m not really sure why. He was just starting to get on my nerves.” She laughed. “Seems like a lot of stuff is getting on my nerves these days.” She returned to the bed, perched on its side, and began absently rubbing Casey’s toes beneath the sheet. “You ever have that with a guy? Everything he does just suddenly starts to annoy you? Probably not. You never had that many guys, did you? You were always much more selective in that regard. Unlike certain younger sisters I could mention. Anyway, I gave old Sean his walking papers. To be honest, he didn’t seem all that upset. The only one who was sort of sad was Lola. Turns out she liked him. Do you think I’m a terrible mother?” Drew asked suddenly. “I mean, I know I’m not the greatest mother in the world, but am I terrible?” She paused, as if giving Casey a chance to respond. “It’s not that I don’t love her. I do. It’s just that she’s always there. Do you understand what I’m saying? Every time I turn around, there she is. And I want to say to her, Look, you’re a sweet kid and everything, but can I just have a few days to myself? But how can I do that? I can’t,” Drew said, answering her own question. “And she’s always looking at me, like she’s expecting me to do something. Only I never know what it is she expects me to do, so I always feel like I’m letting her down. It’s an awful feeling when you think you’re constantly disappointing everyone. Although I guess I should be used to it by now.”

  Oh, Drew.

  “I guess I thought it would be different, you know? I thought if I had a baby, she’d have to love me.”

  She does love you, Drew.