by Clea Simon
Starting with the immediate situation, what, she reasoned, were soap operas anyway but the latest version of her own favorite novels? They were all forms of popular entertainment designed to excite the emotions. Dulcie stopped herself. Wasn’t there some artistry involved in the drama of The Ravages of Umbria?
She flipped a claim form over and started a list. Soaps had characters and plot aplenty. Well, Gothic novels did, too. Even in its surviving sixty pages, The Ravages had two beleaguered women, two possible suitors, a mad monk, and at least one ghost. Plus, they had settings that furthered the plot. Wild landscapes and tumultuous weather supported the stories’ themes; Hermetria was always looking out of her chamber window to ‘gaze long upon the splendours of clouds twining ’round the jagged peaks.’ Dulcie hesitated, pencil point in air. Soaps were often set in luxurious or exotic locations, weren’t they? But, no, she gave her books another point. In The Ravages, the scenery wasn’t simply window dressing. (Dulcie winced at her own phrasing.) Some critics – and most of her colleagues – made fun of how the Gothic authors used their backgrounds. But she always loved the way the weather, a mountain, or even a stand of trees could be used to underline a point or deepen the plot.
‘Is it something in the background?’ She was talking out loud again, but the women at the message center didn’t seem to notice. Was that what Mr Grey had been trying to tell her when he told her to keep watch? Dulcie looked around. Whatever it was, she didn’t see it, but Mr Grey’s words came back to her more strongly than before.
Stay close, he’d told her. Listen. She would have to keep her ears and eyes open. Somewhere out there, Mr Grey had let her know, there was a trap. Her pet was still looking out for her.
Twenty-Four
The rest of the day couldn’t have been more frustrating. While Dulcie played mental volleyball, bouncing back and forth the relative merits of books versus television, she kept half an ear open for anything that might pertain to her situation. But not only did she not hear any hints or newsy tidbits, by the end of the day she suspected she was becoming addicted to One Night to Live. And when Sally Putnam crept up behind her – in all fairness, it would have been hard to hear anyone’s footsteps over the noise – she’d been adding to her list, rather than typing in the claims forms.
‘It doesn’t seem like you’re getting much work done here, today.’ The reptilian boss blinked at her slowly, sizing her up. Her gaze shifted to the two piles on Dulcie’s desk. ‘Perhaps you don’t want this job as much as you led us to believe.’
‘No, I do. I’m sorry.’ Dulcie hated to hear herself apologize, but this time her boss was right. ‘I’ve been distracted.’ She saw an opportunity. ‘This area is really loud, you know. It’s hard to concentrate.’
‘Smart of you to bring in these, then.’ One long lacquered nail, only a tad darker than the finger it extended, pointed to Dulcie’s earplugs, still in their case. ‘I knew you were a smart girl.’ The way she hissed the words indicated that this wasn’t a compliment, and Dulcie found herself scrambling for a response as the impeccably dressed woman spun on her heel and click-clacked across the room. Concentrating after that was near impossible; even the message ladies’ volume seemed toned down a notch. With TV on the brain, Dulcie thought of a nature program: the monkeys hushed in the presence of a python. Her train of thought irrevocably derailed, she applied herself to a dozen more claims and logged off the moment her watch said five o’clock. It was Friday, she deserved a little time off.
‘Brrr!’ Dulcie didn’t shiver exactly as she stepped out of the overcooled building and into another sultry late afternoon. But something about that place had gotten under her skin. It was hard to act in charge when you felt like prey, and she knew Mr Grey wouldn’t approve of that. And so, shaking off the day, she strode purposefully toward the T. Dulcie Schwartz was a woman in charge of her own life. It was time to act on her resolutions, to stop being so scared. She’d visit Luisa and see what the battered girl could tell her, security guards or not.
But Mr Grey’s warnings came back to her as she approached the glass doors of the university health services. Stay close, he’d said. And be careful. Tossing back her curls and feigning courage that wasn’t quite genuine, Dulcie reached for the door.
‘Oh, excuse me!’ It swung open and she was nearly pushed aside by a tall form, walking fast. She saw brown hair, glasses. ‘Chris?’
‘Oh, Dulcie, hey.’ The striding figure looked up just long enough to push his glasses up on his nose.
‘Is everything OK?’ Dulcie was the one who’d almost been run over, but it was Chris who seemed uneasy.
‘What? Oh, you mean ’cause I’m here? Yeah, everything’s fine.’ He looked down at his feet. ‘So, uh, do you still want me to look at your computer?’
‘Yeah, if you could.’ She paused; something was wrong. ‘I mean, it would be great. I’m on Suffolk, you know?’
‘Yeah, I was at that party you and Suze threw last winter.’ Dulcie vaguely recalled him showing up at their holiday open house. Maybe his crush on Suze had lured him in – and left him in the corner. ‘Anyway, well, I’ve got some stuff to do first. See you soon.’
‘Bye.’ Dulcie watched him lope away, long limbs moving swiftly, dark head down. Was it merely a coincidence that he’d been here?
‘May I help you?’
Dulcie realized she was holding the door open, air-conditioning the open mall in front of the building.
‘Sorry.’ She smiled at the receptionist. ‘I’m here to see a patient, Luisa Estrella? I’m a friend.’
The woman turned to her computer and typed something in. For a moment, Dulcie panicked. Her eyes darted around the room, but she could see no uniforms.
‘Room 304.’
‘Excuse me?’ Dulcie had been scanning the reception area, braced for someone to come rushing out.
‘Your friend. She’s in room 304. Visiting hours end at six, though, so you’d better hurry. Elevators are over to your left.’
‘Thanks.’ So maybe it had just been the hour that had mandated increased security the night before. But, still, shouldn’t someone be checking ID? It had been so easy to just walk in. There was nobody else in the elevator, either, and as she walked down the third-floor hallway to Luisa’s room all she saw were two orderlies, and they were busy dispensing foul-smelling dinner trays.
‘Get a grip,’ she muttered to herself. The only thing suspicious here was the broccoli. ‘Hey, Luisa!’ She entered room 304 to find the dark-haired girl sitting up in bed, bandages on her chin and forehead. ‘How’re you doing?’
‘Hi, Dulcie! Thanks for coming by.’ No chipped teeth showed in that smile. ‘I’m feeling fine. I guess they just want to keep me in for observation one more night, because of this.’ She pointed to her forehead. ‘They tell me I have a concussion at least.’
‘I believe it. Do you remember talking to me after? You said you were pushed?’
‘I did?’ She put a hand up as if she were going to touch the bandage and pushed her hair back instead. ‘I was pretty loopy back then, for a while.’
‘You did. You said somebody grabbed Tim’s laptop and pushed you.’ Luisa shook her head slowly and shrugged. Dulcie went to sit in the one chair by the bed, but as she did, she saw Luisa look up.
‘Thanks, sweetie.’
It was Bruce, who came into the room holding a white paper bag. ‘Veggie Reuben with cheese. Just what the doctor ordered.’
Dulcie stood aside as he pulled a styrofoam take-out container and a pile of napkins from the bag.
‘Hi, Dulcie. You’re here to see our girl?’
She smiled and nodded.
‘I figured hospital food wasn’t doing her any good.’
‘That’s awfully sweet,’ Dulcie said. ‘I actually wanted to ask Luisa about what happened. I mean, right after they took her here she said something about someone pushing her.’
‘She hit her head pretty hard.’ Bruce took the seat and slid it closer to the bed. Was
he intentionally putting himself between Dulcie and Luisa? Or merely being affectionate? ‘I think the whole thing was fairly traumatic for her.’
‘That’s OK, baby.’ Luisa put a hand on his arm. ‘I already told her I was pretty looped there for a while after. I don’t know what I was saying. And I don’t remember what happened to the laptop.’ She smiled. ‘Sorry.’
There wasn’t much more to say after that, and nothing to take to the police. So Dulcie stayed long enough to be polite and left when the two began to baby talk. Maybe Luisa truly didn’t remember anything, but Dulcie couldn’t help wondering. The wounded girl had a ditzy side, for sure, but she also had secrets she kept from her boyfriend. Maybe she knew more than she was letting on. Maybe he did, too.
What those other secrets could be occupied Dulcie’s mind as she walked home, skipping the T to stretch her legs – and her mind. There was a lot to process, even without The Ravages. She wasn’t so preoccupied, however, that she didn’t notice the two kittens playing outside as she rounded the corner on to her own block. Both orange, one with a white chest, they were lolling about the top of the steps that led down to Helene’s apartment, toying with a rather slow beetle. Dulcie looked around; her neighbor didn’t seem to be anywhere nearby. She couldn’t have been so foolish as to let two small kittens out alone on a city street, could she? They were still so tiny and uncoordinated. As she watched, one little orange bundle overreached and flopped down a step. Had Helene’s new pets gotten out without her noticing?
‘Hey, little guys.’ She stepped down into the entranceway and knelt by one of the kittens. ‘Julius, right? Or are you Murray?’ In response the orange fur ball reared up and boxed at her outstretched finger. He was all orange: Murray. Dulcie extended her other hand to the slightly lighter tiger-striped kitten by his side. ‘And this must be your brother, Julius?’ The other kitten flopped on its side, revealing a snow-white tum. ‘Now, what are you youngsters doing out at this hour?’ Murray began to wash.
Don’t worry, Dulcie, I’m here. At the sound of the voice, Dulcie’s head jerked up. ‘Mr Grey? Where are you?’ Ignoring the kittens, she stood and turned around. I’m keeping watch. The long-haired grey was nowhere to be seen. And yet, she’d heard that voice, so close. She turned. And saw the bulky figure of Duane, Helene’s ex, lumbering up the street. Hadn’t Helene said that he was seeing someone else on their block? Whatever his romantic complications, he looked angry, his thick arms pumping up his sides as he came up the middle of the empty roadway.
The kittens, Dulcie. She didn’t need a spectral voice to remind her: Duane was a cat hater. With one hand, she scooped up the protesting babies and ran down the remaining steps to pound on Helene’s door.
‘Helene! Helene! It’s Dulcie! Let me in!’
A moment later, she heard her neighbor’s heavy footsteps and the door swung open. ‘Oh, my goodness, how did they get out?’ Before Dulcie could answer, Helene looked past her and saw her ex. He’d reached the sidewalk in front of the apartment. ‘Duane Rigardi! Don’t even think about coming down these steps!’
Dulcie thought of Duane as a big, scary guy, but Helene was no lightweight either. In her nurse’s uniform, she cut an imposing figure.
‘You threw out my Pats mugs! You—’ Duane’s shouted protest was cut short as he gasped for breath. ‘Marcella said—’
‘I put all that junk out on the sidewalk. I told you, Duane, that you could pick it up. And you didn’t!’ With her hands on her hips, the big woman nearly filled the door.
‘Oh, honey, I just thought that maybe if you and I—’
Dulcie, still holding the kittens, peeked out from behind her neighbor. Duane was having trouble catching his breath. But even bent over, big mitts on his knees, he made a threatening presence.
‘Forget it, asshole. Tell it to your new girlfriend! We’re through.’ Duane was audibly wheezing as Helene delivered the decisive blow. ‘I’ve got cats!’ With that declaration, she slammed the door.
Dulcie could feel the frame of the house shake. Not wanting things to get any worse, she snuck a glimpse out of the side window. Duane was slowly walking back down the block, the way he had come. One hand was on his chest, but Dulcie figured if he was walking, he was breathing.
‘You OK, child?’ A small but firm push made Dulcie realize she was still holding the squirming kittens.
‘Yeah, sorry. That was something.’ She put the kittens down and Helene knelt to check them out, her former ferocity gone. ‘I know how Duane feels about cats, so when I saw him charging up the block—’
‘You did right, Dulcie. Thanks.’ She picked up Julius, and Murray scampered off to the back of the apartment. ‘End of the week, he has the bad habit of drinking his pay check. But how did these little guys get out? I’ve been home for an hour now, and I swear I just fed them.’
Dulcie shrugged. In a way it didn’t matter; Mr Grey had said he was looking out for them. ‘Has anyone been by?’
Helene shook her head, and suddenly Dulcie’s brain started working again. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to run. I’m meeting someone at my place.’ She turned to let herself out. ‘Pet the kittens for me,’ she called as she bolted up the stairs. But as she looked up and turned toward her own stoop, she saw that her front door was ajar.
‘Not again.’ There was nobody in there anymore. No pet, no room-mate. Nobody who could be lost or hurt, but the memory still started Dulcie’s heart beating like mad. Her throat tightening up, she ascended the first step. ‘Hello?’ Her voice came out in a croak. ‘Chris?’ No answer. ‘Anybody there?’ She should go back to Helene’s. She should call the cops. But the open door drew her up the remaining stairs of the stoop. ‘Hello?’
There was no sound as she swung the front door open. Memories flooded back as she climbed the stairs. ‘Is anyone there?’
Nobody was. But somebody had been. Her chair lay on its side. Somebody had used it to smash the back window. Shattered glass sparkled like glitter on the green rug and the fire escape outside. The TV, old as it was, was still on the table; the little stereo, too. The noise out front must have startled whoever it was, caused the intruder to flee before Dulcie came in. Dulcie remembered those words: I’m here, I’m keeping watch. Had Mr Grey been guarding the kittens – or her? Had he arranged to distract her, to keep her from walking in during a burglary? Had he chased the intruders off before they could steal—? Ignoring the glass shards that seemed to have flown everywhere, Dulcie raced upstairs to her bedroom – to her desk. Her laptop was gone.
This wasn’t like the other time. There was no body. No blood. Everybody was OK. Dulcie kept repeating these facts to herself as she stepped carefully back down the stairs. ‘I’m breathing. I’m OK.’ Saying it out loud made it real, and slowly the panic ebbed, until she was down her own front stairs, out the door, and back out on the street.
Then she lost it. ‘No!’ Her scream had the frustrating breathiness of a nightmare, all gasp and little volume. But it was loud enough to cause Helene to wrench open her front door again – and to alert Chris, who had just turned the corner, and who now started running up the street.
‘Dulcie! Dulcie! What is it?’ Chris got to her first and reached for her, but she shook off his grip.
‘Where were you just now? Why couldn’t you look at me?’ She whirled to face her pale classmate, who blinked behind his glasses, mouth gaping open. ‘Have you been calling me?’
‘What’s up, honey? What’s wrong?’ Helene had the sense not to touch Dulcie, but she inserted her considerable bulk between the girl and the speechless Chris. ‘What’s happened?’
Dulcie took a breath, and realized that she had been holding it. She put her hands up to her face. ‘Somebody broke in.’
‘Again? Come with me.’ Helene put her arm around Dulcie and pulled her back toward the sidewalk. ‘You, too.’ Chris followed dutifully behind.
Soon Dulcie was holding yet another mug of tea laced with rum, while the police went through her apartment once again.
‘And you are?’ Helene was predisposed to suspect any man these days, and Dulcie’s attack on Chris hadn’t made her trust the lanky computer whiz any more.
‘I’m Dulcie’s friend. I mean, I’m a classmate. I was going to help her with her computer,’ he stammered, his lean cheeks turning pink. His fluster must have looked authentic, because Helene nodded, and fixed him a mug of her special brew, too.
‘Dulcie? What was all that about between you two earlier?’ Helene asked the question that must have been on Chris’s mind. Clearly, he was too afraid. ‘Why did you yell at this boy?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Sitting on Helene’s sofa, inhaling the warm, sweet drink, Dulcie had begun to relax. ‘I just thought, I don’t know, that maybe he’d been in my house.’
‘Me?’ His voice almost squeaked as he jerked to his feet. ‘But I just got to your place. You saw me in the Square like a half-hour ago!’
‘I know.’ Dulcie looked up at the lanky young man. ‘I’m sorry.’ He relaxed again enough to sit. ‘But I thought you were acting weird, you know? At the health services.’
‘Yeah, well.’ It was his turn to look away. ‘I didn’t expect to see anyone just then.’
Dulcie sipped and waited. Helene hovered. The kittens wrestled on the floor.
‘I’m in counseling. I see a shrink. Ever since my mom got sick again, I’ve been . . . I don’t know. It’s been hard.’ Chris’s dark bangs still hid his face, but his voice was clear.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’ Dulcie felt like a heel.
‘Well, you haven’t been around much, you know?’ His voice had gone soft, but Dulcie heard the rebuke in it and grimaced. That was what Trista had been telling her. What else had she missed?
‘I guess I’ve been stuck in my own head these last few months.’
