Still Life

by Joy Fielding

  Two hours later, the front door opened and Lola burst through, followed by Drew and then Warren, the three of them laughing at some shared private joke. Already a happy little family unit, Casey thought, wondering how Warren would react when he saw she was still alive.

  “Auntie Casey,” Lola called out, running up the stairs. “Auntie Casey, I’m here!”

  “Me, too,” Drew said, laughing as she followed after her daughter.

  Was Warren right behind them? What would he do when he saw her? Casey realized she was actually looking forward to finding out.

  Her niece raced toward the bed, clambering up its side and burrowing in against her side. “We’ve been to Gettysburg,” she announced. “It was so fun. Wasn’t it, Mommy?”

  “It was so fun,” Drew agreed. “Oh, good. Your eyes are open.”

  “Is Auntie Casey awake?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Are you awake, Casey?” Drew grabbed Casey’s hand.

  Casey squeezed as hard as she could.

  “You know what, Lola?” Drew said. “I have an idea. Why don’t you go downstairs to the kitchen and paint your aunt a picture of some of the things we saw in Gettysburg.”

  “We saw a bunch of big, big rocks,” Lola said. “What are they called, Mommy?”

  “Boulders.”

  “Can I paint the boulders green and blue?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Lola jumped down from the bed and ran to the bedroom door, colliding with Warren’s legs in the doorway.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m going to paint a picture of boulders for Auntie Casey.”

  Casey could feel Warren’s confusion as he advanced slowly into the room. Had they not realized his wife was dead? she could almost hear him thinking.

  “How’s Casey?” he asked tentatively.

  “Her eyes are open again,” Drew said. “I mean, I know they say it doesn’t mean anything, but …”

  Warren approached and took Casey’s hand away from Drew’s, surreptitiously checking her pulse as he held tight to her wrist, obviously trying to come to grips with what he was seeing. “But you think it’s a good sign,” he said, finishing Drew’s sentence for her.

  “Maybe it just makes me feel better.”

  “Me too.” Warren returned Casey’s hand to the bed, stared directly into her eyes.

  Casey stared back, unblinking.

  “Where’s Patsy?” Drew asked suddenly.

  “I had to let her go.” Warren’s eyes never wavered from Casey’s.

  “You fired Patsy?”

  “She wasn’t working out.”

  “Wow. First Jeremy, then Patsy. You’ve been doing some major housekeeping.”

  “You try to learn from your mistakes.”

  “And Patsy was a definite mistake,” Drew said, scanning the room. “So who’s looking after Casey?”

  “I hired a temporary nurse.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I told her to come back at five,” Warren said, as if he’d just dismissed her. “Would you excuse me for a few minutes? I have to make a phone call.”

  “Take your time,” Drew said, reaching for Casey’s hand as Warren left the room. “Okay, are you still there?”

  Casey squeezed Drew’s hand. “Help me,” she managed to whisper, the words glomming together at the base of her tongue like sticky rice.

  “Oh my God. Did you just say something?”

  “Help me,” Casey said again, stronger the second time, although the words remained murky, indecipherable even to her own ears.

  “Oh, God. Warren!” Drew cried. “Get back here.”

  “No!” Casey said. This time the word was crystal clear.

  “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me to tell Warren? He loves you so much, Casey. He didn’t stop talking about you all day. And we had such a wonderful time. He was so great with Lola. I realize how unfair I’ve been to him.”

  “No!” Casey said again. You have to get me out of here. He’s going to kill me. Call the police. Call 911. Get me out of here.

  “Why don’t you want me to tell Warren?” Drew asked again.

  Because he tried to kill me. Because you’re next. Because we have to get out of here.

  But the words refused to form, tumbling from her lips as a series of disconnected vowels and consonants.

  “Is Auntie Casey singing?” Lola asked, skipping back into the room.

  “I thought you were going to paint your aunt a picture,” Drew said, clearly flustered.

  “I couldn’t find the paints.”

  “I think they’re in the cupboard under the sink.”

  “I looked there.”

  “Look again,” Drew said forcefully as Lola climbed back up on the bed.

  “I don’t want to. I want Auntie Casey to sing me a song.”

  “She can’t sing, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, she can. I heard her.”

  “Did you call me?” Warren asked suddenly from the hallway.

  “Auntie Casey is singing!”

  No!

  “Lola …”

  “What?”

  “She wasn’t singing,” Drew said.

  “Yes, she was. I heard her.”

  No. No.

  “What exactly was she doing?” Warren crossed to the bed in two giant strides.

  “It was really more of a groan than anything else.” Drew glanced warily at Casey.

  “Why are you looking at her that way?” Warren demanded. “Do you think she can see you?” He suddenly reached over and ripped Lola’s zebra painting off the wall, waving the colorful stripes back and forth in front of Casey’s eyes. “Can you see this? Can you?”

  “You’re ruining my picture,” Lola cried.

  Casey tried closing her eyes, but it was too late.

  “You blinked,” Warren said. “Dear God, you blinked.”

  “What does that mean?” Drew said.

  “It means she can see.”

  “Is that true? Casey, can you see?” Drew grabbed Casey’s hand. “Squeeze once for yes.”

  “What are you doing?” Warren’s face registered first shock, then amazement. “Are you saying she’s responsive? For God’s sake, Drew. If you know something about my wife’s condition that I don’t, tell me. Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

  There was a long pause.

  No. Don’t tell him. Please, don’t tell him.

  “Casey is conscious,” Drew said finally.

  No. Oh, no.

  “What? For how long?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably just a few days.”

  “A few days?” he repeated. “How do you know?”

  “She’s been squeezing my hand, spelling out words.”

  “Spelling out words?” Warren repeated dully. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “I don’t know,” Drew said again. “I’m so sorry.”

  Warren sank into the armchair beside the bed and lowered his head into his hands.

  “Please don’t be angry,” Drew said. “This is such great news. We should be celebrating. Casey can see. She can understand. She’s starting to communicate. Soon she’ll be walking and talking and as good as new. Isn’t that wonderful, Warren? Casey’s come back to us.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Is she asleep?” Warren asked from Casey’s bedside several hours later.

  Drew stepped into the room. “Out like a light. I guess she was pretty exhausted, what with Gettysburg and then all the excitement with Casey.”

  “It’s been quite the day,” Warren agreed.

  “It certainly has. How’s my sister doing?”

  “She seems to be resting comfortably. Looks like the Valium the nurse gave her is finally starting to take effect.”

  “Do you really think it was necessary?” Drew approached her sister’s bed. “I mean, it seems a shame to knock her out just when she’s starting to come around.”

  �
�Casey was awfully agitated, Drew. You saw the way she was carrying on when Mrs. Friedlander was here. She’s confused and terrified. I don’t want her falling out of bed and hurting herself.”

  “I guess you’re right. Were you able to reach any of her doctors?”

  “Not yet. I called the hospital; I’ve left messages all over the city. So far, nothing. It’s Sunday night—what can you expect? I’ll keep trying.”

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

  “How could you keep something like that from me?” Warren asked, his voice incredulous.

  “I don’t know. I was just so mad at you, I guess. I wasn’t thinking straight. And then today, we were having such a good time, and you were so wonderful with Lola, and I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you …”

  “It’s all right,” Warren said after a pause of several seconds. “What’s important is that I know now.” Another pause. “So, you think a little champagne is in order?”

  “Champagne?”

  “To celebrate the great news.”

  Drew hesitated. “I don’t know. I really shouldn’t …”

  “Come on. You’re sleeping here tonight. You won’t be driving. One glass. I won’t let you have any more than that.”

  “You really think it’s a good idea?”

  “I think Casey deserves a toast in her honor.”

  Drew laughed happily. “I guess she does.”

  “Be right back.”

  As soon as he was gone, Casey reached through the dense fog enveloping her head and grabbed Drew’s hand.

  Drew gasped with fright. “Casey, my God. You scared me. I thought you were asleep.”

  “Help me,” Casey said, opening her eyes, not sure whether she’d said anything at all.

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  He’s trying to kill me.

  “You’re not making any sense. Just try to relax. Do you want me to get Warren?”

  Casey twisted from side to side, squeezing Drew’s hand with all the strength she could muster. No!

  “Okay, okay. Please try to calm down. Warren’s right. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep thrashing around like this.”

  Warren didn’t call the hospital. He has no intention of trying to reach my doctors. He’s going to get you good and drunk, and then he’s going to kill me. Tonight. Then he’s going to find a way to put the blame on you.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

  He’s going to kill me! You have to get me out of here.

  “Please try to calm down, Casey. I know this is frustrating, but you’re not making any sense. Get some sleep, and in the morning when you wake up, I promise you’ll be feeling much better.”

  I won’t wake up in the morning. It’ll be too late.

  “Oh, I think I hear Warren coming with the champagne.” Drew looked toward the bedroom door.

  Don’t have anything to drink. Please, Drew. It’s important you stay sober.

  “Is there a problem?” Warren asked, entering the room.

  Casey closed her eyes, released her sister’s hand.

  “Casey was groaning a bit, but she seems okay now. Here, let me help you with those glasses.”

  Please, Drew, Casey thought, refusing to give in to the sleep that was hovering over her head like a plastic bag. Don’t have a drink.

  “Dom Pérignon,” Drew said. “How nice.”

  “I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion,” Warren said.

  “Which this definitely is,” Drew agreed, as Casey heard a loud pop, followed by the sound of her sister’s high-pitched laughter. “Careful. It’s spilling on the carpet.”

  “So we’ll buy new carpet,” Warren said, laughing now as well. “Hold out your glass.”

  No. Don’t. Please don’t take a sip. One sip will lead to another. You know it will. You know what will happen.

  “Well? What’s the verdict?” Warren asked.

  “Absolutely fabulous.”

  “You hear that, Casey? It’s absolutely fabulous,” Warren said. “To the love of my life.”

  “Welcome back, Casey,” Drew seconded.

  Casey pictured her husband and her sister raising their glasses in her direction.

  “Hurry up and get better,” Drew urged, “so you can sample some of this incredible champagne.” Casey pictured her sister quickly emptying the contents of her glass. “Oh, man, I forgot just how good great champagne can be.”

  “Let’s have another toast,” Warren suggested. “Your turn to go first.”

  “My turn,” Drew repeated. “I think I need a little more champagne first. Thank you. Well, let’s see. To my sister, whom I love with all my heart, even if I don’t always know how to show it.”

  “Here, here,” Warren said. “And to health and wealth and …”

  “… the American way.”

  Warren laughed. “To the American way.”

  “I don’t suppose I could tempt you into topping off my glass again,” Drew said moments later.

  No, Drew. Please, don’t do this.

  “I guess I can let you have just a little bit more.”

  “You’re a real sport. Aw, come on, Warren. You can do better than that, can’t you? My sister’s come back from the dead. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

  “All right. But this is it.”

  Casey listened to the sound of liquid being poured into a glass.

  “To true love,” Drew said.

  “True love,” Warren echoed.

  Casey felt sleep gently massaging her temples, and her eyes rolling back in her head. It took all her concentration to keep from drifting off.

  “Think I’ll ever find it?” Drew asked wistfully.

  “True love? I don’t see why not. You’re a beautiful girl….”

  “A rich, beautiful girl,” Drew amended.

  Warren laughed. “And you’re funny and feisty and …”

  “Fabulous.”

  “And fabulous.”

  “Like this champagne,” Drew said, giggling. “How about just one more glass? I promise I won’t ask for more.”

  “All right. But absolutely no more.”

  “It goes down very smoothly for something with so many bubbles.”

  “That it does.”

  “I like things that go down smoothly.” Drew giggled again.

  “And speaking of going down,” Warren said, “what happened with you and Sean?”

  “Who?”

  “Sean? Your old boyfriend? The one who wanted to get back together with you?”

  “He did?”

  “He didn’t?” Warren asked.

  “He probably did,” Drew said, and laughed again. “I mean, why wouldn’t he? I’m funny and feisty and … what else am I?”

  “You’re fabulous.”

  “I’m fabulous.”

  “Yes, you are. And you’re a very fast drinker. I can’t believe your glass is empty already.”

  “That’s because you’re a very slow pourer.”

  “Well, then, let me correct that.”

  “You’re a kind and generous man.”

  “And you are a sweet and sensitive woman.”

  “Thank you. Don’t let me drink too much.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “I have a very high tolerance for alcohol, you know.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time.”

  “Everybody needs a hobby.”

  Drew laughed as if this was the most hilarious thing she’d ever heard. “You’re very funny. You know that? Funny and feisty.”

  “What happened to fabulous?”

  “You’re pretty fabulous, actually.”

  “Thank you.”

  Again the sound of liquid filling a glass.

  “So, have you heard anything from Jeremy?” Warren asked.

  “Who?”

  “Jeremy. Casey’s former th
erapist. I was sure he’d get in touch.”

  “Oh, right. Him. Actually he did call. Yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

  “He didn’t waste much time.”

  “I guess you had him pegged.”

  “What did he want?”

  “I’d left a note for him at the hospital, asking him to call. You know. Just to see if he was all right.”

  “And was he?”

  “He said he was pretty upset at first, so he took a few days off. He’s okay now.”

  “Good man.”

  “He is a good man.”

  “Drink up,” Warren said.

  “You’re a good man, too.”

  Warren laughed. “So where is he taking you on your first date?”

  “Who says he’s taking me anywhere?”

  “I had him pegged, remember?”

  Drew laughed again. “We haven’t decided yet. He said to think of something unusual. I’m supposed to call him.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Have another drink.” Warren filled her glass again.

  “Don’t tell me that bottle’s almost empty.”

  “That’s all right. I have another one.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “He’s not good enough for you, you know,” Warren said.

  “What? Who?”

  “Jeremy.”

  “Probably not. But you have to admit he’s pretty damn cute.”

  “Not exactly my type.”

  Drew laughed.

  “You can do better.”

  “You have anyone in particular in mind?”

  “I might.”

  “Wait—don’t tell me. Could his name by any chance be Willy Billy?” Drew shrieked with laughter.

  “I can promise you his name is definitely not Willy Billy.”

  “Why not? Is there something wrong with Willy Billy’s willy?” Drew collapsed in a series of loud guffaws.

  “Something tells me you’ve had enough champagne.”

  “Oh, come on, Uncle Warren. We might as well finish the bottle.”

  “Looks like this is the last of it.”

  “But you said you had another one.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  Drew jumped to her feet. “Where is it? I’ll go get it.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “It’s a great idea. We’re celebrating.”

  “That we are. It’s in the fridge. Be careful on the stairs.”