Cindy watched her for a moment before she scooted her own chair back and went to follow Paula, who already had the front door open.
“Paula, is something wrong? You can tell me what it is.”
“No. No. I’ve already said too much.”
Before Cindy could say anything else, Paula had zipped across the street to her own house, entered and shut the door.
FIFTY
Phillip smoothed down the glued-on mustache and adjusted the edge of the wool ski cap covering the tips of his ears. Keegan was waiting for him by the back entrance, his foot stuck between the wall and the door.
“What the hell took you so long? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. And what’s with the fake mustache?” Keegan leaned in. “Who are you hiding from?”
“We’re not here to talk about me.”
Keegan rolled his eyes and opened the door for Phillip. “Fine. Let’s go.”
The two men scurried down the bright hallway in silence. Keegan unlocked his office door and Phillip took the chair in front of his desk.
“How’s she doing?”
Keegan flipped open a metal chart. “Well, she sleeps twenty hours a day.”
“That’s the idea. You’ve been giving her the medication?”
“Yes, everyday,” Keegan said, exasperated.
“What else? Is she asking questions when she’s awake?”
“Yes. I’m telling her what you told me to say.”
Phillip leaned back in his chair and smiled. “That’s good to hear. I can’t thank you enough, doc.”
“Please. I don’t want your gratitude. I want to know when the hell this will be over with.”
“When you need to know, you’ll know.”
Keegan rubbed his eyes. “Dealing with you gives new meaning to ‘The Longest Winter’.”
“Alright, enough with this chit-chat. I’m ready to see her.”
Keegan stared at Phillip for a moment and shook his head. “You know, it’s too bad you didn’t stay a psychology major.”
“Why?”
Keegan slammed her chart closed. “Because you’re real good with the mind fuck.”
FIFTY-ONE
Sondra stubbed her cigarette out on the sidewalk as she waited for Kevin outside of Wishbone in the West Loop. Kevin had said it was a favorite of his. She smiled and waved to him as he ambled over to meet her.
“Hi. Been waiting long?”
“Just long enough for a smoke. I’m glad I called for a reservation. This is a pretty hopping place.”
He opened the door and ushered Sondra inside. “This is nothing. You should see it on weekends when they do brunch. It’s crazy.”
“Well, I’m excited to try it.”
“I’m glad you called. I kind of needed to get out of the house.”
“Well, I’m kind of looking forward to a few minutes where I’m not thinking about Tracy or Phillip or any of it, so I called you for a selfish reason.”
Kevin laughed as the hostess seated them. “Well, go ahead and use me. So nothing new, huh?”
“Nada. How has your family been dealing with this?”
“Not good. Like we were talking about the other day, it just brings everything up all over again. Carol’s mom has really had a hard time, of course.”
“You know what? Let’s change the subject.”
Kevin smiled and nodded. “Of course.”
They busied themselves looking over the menu and slurping down sweet tea. After the waitress took their order, Kevin hunched over the table and looked at Sondra.
“So, I don’t think I asked, but are you from Chicago?”
“No, we grew up in California—Stanford. Our mom was on the German Olympic team for swimming and my dad is a professor of cultural studies at Stanford. Written a lot books. Gordon Ellis?”
Kevin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gordon Ellis is your dad?”
“Yeah.”
Kevin leaned back in his chair, floored. “Man, I’ve probably read Hip Hop State of Mind a hundred times. More.”
Sondra smiled. “Yeah. That one’s my personal favorite. I could probably snag an autographed copy for you.”
“Wow, that would… wow. Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“And your mom went to the Olympics?”
“Bronze in sixty, silver in sixty-four.”
“So, how did they meet?”
Sondra shifted in her seat. “Well, Daddy is from Alabama and he went to Emory for undergrad and got the opportunity to study abroad in Paris one summer. French Cinema. Mommy was in Paris visiting her sister and they were each sitting at a café one afternoon drinking coffee. Their eyes met and as the saying goes, they’ve been together ever since.”
“Wow. That’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. Good model. Even if Tracy and I had trouble following it.”
“I’m still trying to get over your family… You do documentaries, your mom did the Olympic thing, your dad does his thing and Tracy was a news producer?” Kevin let out a low whistle. “I’m trippin’.”
Sondra shrugged. “Oh. Yeah. I don’t know. I guess we just all kind of did what we wanted and turned out to be pretty successful at it.” Sondra gestured toward Kevin. “What about you? What do you do?”
“Nothing nearly as cool as your family. I’m a social worker for the Chicago Public School system.”
Sondra nodded, impressed. “Tough line of work. Very admirable. You’ve got to have nerves of steel for that one I’d imagine.”
Kevin rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, that, or oatmeal for brains.”
Sondra laughed. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“You know, I love the work—I do—but man, there are days when it takes all I have to get out of bed.”
“If you didn’t have to work, what would you do?”
Kevin thought about for a moment. “Pitch a tent on a beach in the Bahamas and sell tacky souvenirs.”
Sondra grinned. “Sounds nice.”
“Yeah. Pipe dream.” Kevin plunked his chin down in one hand and studied Sondra.
“Was it hard growing up bi-racial?” he asked.
Sondra didn’t flinch; she was so used to the question after all these years. “Um, you know sometimes, yeah. Like I said, daddy’s family is from the deep, deep South and never understood why he married some Amazon German woman. Mimi’s family always referred to my father as the ‘Negro’ who gave her ‘Negro babies.’ And you know here’s my white mother carting her brown babies all over Stanford. People always thought she was our babysitter. But, you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Absolutely. I’m proud of who I am and who my parents are. They loved, and still love, each other tremendously and Tracy and I really benefited from that. They exposed us equally to both sides of our culture and I think we came out okay.”
“Carol’s mom is black and her dad was white. She never knew her father and she was always really messed up about being mixed. It took her a long time to feel comfortable about herself.”
“How did you two meet?”
He chuckled. “She was my bank teller.”
“Cute, very cute.”
“Yeah, that’s when she was working out South before she got promoted and moved to the downtown branch. Anyway, I finally had to ask her out, because I almost went broke since I was going to the bank everyday to withdraw money just so I could see her.”
Sondra laughed. “I’m glad she said yes.”
“Me too.”
The waitress came over with their dinner—Louisiana Chicken Salad for Sondra, brisket for Kevin. In between devouring their food, they discussed everything from their childhoods to favorite movies to New York versus Chicago.
“When are you heading home?” Kevin asked as they sipped after-dinner coffee.
“I think tomorrow night. There’s really nothing left for me to do here, so I might as well head home.”
K
evin nodded his head as he absorbed this. “That’s too bad. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you.”
Sondra looked at Kevin, catching the twinge in his voice. “Kevin… it would be too weird. Your wife, my sister… ”
He smiled. “Oh, I know. I know. I guess I just feel some kind of bond to you, considering.”
“Me too. But friends?” Sondra held up her pinky.
“Friends,” Kevin said as he hooked his little finger through hers.
After Kevin insisted on picking up the tab, the two stepped out into the humid Chicago night.
“Can I give you a lift back to your hotel? It’s kind of hard to get cabs around here.”
Sondra smiled. “You know, I think I’ll walk? It’s such a nice night and I just need to be alone with my thoughts.”
Kevin hung his head down for a moment before looking Sondra squarely in the eye. “The last time I let a woman go out at night, she never came back.”
Sondra released the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding and smiled. “Okay,” she whispered. “Thanks.”
FIFTY-TWO
Cindy Cross stood in her kitchen staring out of her yellow and blue curtain-framed window watching Paula’s house. It was late, but the light was still on. She wondered what was going on over there. She felt her husband slip a hand around her size two waist and nestle against her neck.
“The kids are asleep and the kitchen and living room are clean. What do you say we go upstairs and get dirty?”
Cindy laughed as Chris began to nibble on her ear and his hand flicked across her nipple. “Mmmm, that sounds good,” she said as she reached back and ran her fingers through his thick golden hair. He turned her around and they began to kiss each other hungrily in the middle of their kitchen. They pulled back and Cindy rested her head on her husband’s chest, her eyes focused in the direction of Paula’s house.
“Still thinking about this morning?” Chris asked.
Cindy let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. In some ways, she reminds me of my mother.”
“What, crazy you mean?”
Cindy tried to suppress her knowing giggle. “Stop it. No, you know how socially awkward my mother is.”
“True.”
“On the other hand, I can’t decide if she’s a battered wife or what the deal is. It’s like she’s both afraid of her husband and worships him at the same time. Isn’t that usually how it is with domestic abuse victims?”
“You already tried the cops and unless you actually see something—”
“I know, I know. They can’t do anything.”
“Maybe you should go over there tomorrow. See if you can get her to open up to you.”
Cindy snorted. “In one morning?”
“Sometimes, if you ask even the most tightly wound people the right question they’ll tell you everything.”
Cindy pulled her head back, looked at Chris and smiled. “You’re right. She probably wants help and doesn’t know how to ask. I’ll go over first thing. Now—” Cindy gave Chris a knowing look. “I’ve got something for you in the bedroom.”
“Now you’re talkin’. Last one to bed has to beg.”
Cindy let out a yelp and with a giggle, started to run upstairs, her husband hot on her tail.
FIFTY-THREE
He’d taken Tracy to visit his mother once. It was right after they’d gotten engaged, and Phillip was eager for his mother to meet the woman he’d fallen in love with. The Alzheimer’s had hijacked many of Betty Pearson’s brain cells, though on occasion, glimpses of his beloved mother would shine through.
When Betty laid eyes on Tracy, she lit up like Times Square. Phillip could see it in her eyes; she never imagined her plain, awkward son would have such a beautiful girl on his arm. She fawned all over Tracy’s filmy blue print blouse and simple black skirt. She wanted to rub the silky ends of Tracy’s “good hair” beneath her fingers and couldn’t get over how smooth and clear her complexion was. As was her nature, Tracy was so sweet to Betty, answering each of his mother’s prying questions with grace and humor and even complimenting her on the spring green dress she wore. Betty had been delighted with the purple cashmere wrap Tracy had presented to her for her birthday, her eyes filling with tears as Tracy folded the soft material around her frail shoulders. She bragged she’d be the envy of Sunny Shores.
It was true that Betty had passed not too long after Tracy had died—that wasn’t bullshit. So what if he’d fudged the dates a little bit? Nobody would know any different. Much like he’d done for his wife, he chose cremation for Betty and scattered her ashes in Lake Michigan, the same spot where his father rested in peace.
Even if she hadn’t died, he knew he still would have hidden behind his mother to carry out his delicate mission. Her mind was so far gone, she barely recognized Phillip. She never would have been able to give any details about how often he visited or what her health was like. Not that he expected anyone to come snooping around.
He’d covered his tracks pretty well.
FIFTY-FOUR
The doorbell pealed, startling Paula out of her sleep. She had crawled back into bed after Phillip left for work, her head about to split open. Lately, she felt sick all the time, but didn’t dare tell Phillip. The doorbell tolled once again and Paula staggered to the door to answer it.
“Hi Paula,” Cindy said.
Paula clutched the collar of her pink housedress around her neck. “What do you want?”
Cindy licked her lips. “Listen, Paula, I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I just wanted you to know that if you need a friend… I can be one for you.”
Paula shook her head, anguish filling in the crevices of her face. “I can’t. I can’t.”
Cindy exhaled and lowered her voice. “Does Phillip… hit… you?”
Paula clasped her dress even tighter around her. “No. No! Please, I can’t talk to you now. You have to go.” Paula went to shut the door but Cindy blocked it with her hand.
“Paula, whatever it is, I can help. Really.”
“It’s not your concern, now please, leave.”
With a final determined shove, Paula closed and latched the door. Breathing heavily, Paula ran her hand over her forehead and tried to get a hold of herself.
FIFTY-FIVE
It had been so easy to fill the Swiss cheese of her brain.
Between the drugs and the programming he and Keegan were administering, it was almost like taking candy from a baby.
Every time he went to visit, Keegan would huff and puff and demand to know when this would be over, that he was running too many risks by having her there. Phillip would have to remind him of the risks by not having her there. That usually shut him up.
Whenever they spent time together, she was so full of questions. “Who am I?” “What happened?” “Where am I?”
He had stroked her hair and answered her questions in rich, melodious tones. “Your name is Paula.”
“Where am I?”
“In the hospital.”
“Why am I in the hospital?”
“You’ve been sick.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?”
“You… tried to kill yourself… you drove your car into a tree.”
“What? Oh… God… why would I do that?”
“You were upset, because of something you did.”
“What did I do?”
“Well… you killed someone.”
“That, that, that’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, but it is.”
“Who?”
“My wife. You killed my wife. Tracy. You were in love with me and you wanted her out of the way.”
“Oh… no… no, I couldn’t have done something like that.”
He nodded. “I’m afraid you did,” he said matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything.”
She swallowed. “You will?”
“Oh, yes. I won’t let the police take you away. You’re not well. I understand that.
You were just so in love with me, you couldn’t help what you did.”
She would look back at him, tears glistening in the brown pools of her eyes. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“Don’t you worry about a thing. But you have to do exactly as Dr. Keegan and I say, Paula. Otherwise, the police will come and then I won’t be able to protect you.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Shh, shh. All in good time. Just know that I’ll make it possible for you to live a normal life with me.”
“Why? Why would you want to help me if I killed your wife?”
Phillip smiled. “Because I care about you. I realized the lengths you would go to for me. I couldn’t let you go to jail. You would have gone to jail for the rest of your life for what you did to Tracy. They probably would have given you the death penalty.”
“What did I do to her?”
“Stalked her. Told her she had to give me up. When she wouldn’t do it, you smashed her face with a rock.”
She would cover her face with her hands, horrified. “I could never do anything like that. Ever.”
“But you did, Paula. You did.”
“What did you do with her body?”
“Don’t worry yourself about all that. I took care of everything.”
“But, I—”
“So, you owe me your life. Which is why in turn, you must dedicate your life to me.”
“What do you want me do to?”
He smiled. “All in good time. Remember, though… you must do everything I ask. No questions, no complaints. Do you understand?”
She nodded, the slow realization that her life was in his hands beginning to dawn on her. “I… I understand. I’ll do whatever you tell me. I promise.”
“Good. For now, though, you must rest. You have so much ahead of you and you’ll need your strength.”
Paula gave him a feeble nod.
FIFTY-SIX
“Hello, Cindy.”
“Oh, my God, Paula, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
Paula smoothed her hair back. “I’m fine. I was wondering if I might borrow some milk. It’s Thursday and today is when I bake Phillip chocolate cake. He used the last of the milk in the coffee this morning. And if I stop and go to the store, my entire day will be off, and I just have a ton of laundry and cleaning to do.”
Live and Let Die Page 15
