Can You Keep a Secret?

by Caroline Overington

  ‘I have to go.’ Eventually he would get loose, but then he’d come in at night to find Caitlin sitting on the sofa, watching footage of the attacks. She would have a pile of tissues on the floor by her feet.

  ‘I thought I was going to die,’ she said, pretty much daily. ‘I really thought I was going to die.’ Weeks went by and she still would not talk about her flight home, and when Colby tried to ask her about it, she put her hands over her ears and shook her head like a child.

  ‘I can’t,’ she’d say.

  ‘But you can’t stay here, Caitlin, you don’t even have a visa. And if you over-stay, in this climate – with everyone’s visa being scrutinised – I don’t want to think what might happen.’

  ‘I just can’t. I just can’t get on a plane.’

  ‘Look, I know it’s tough. You’re not the only one who feels this way. But we can get help. You need to see somebody. Would you like me to find somebody for you to see?’

  Caitlin, rocking on the sofa with her arms around her knees, nodded. ‘I want to see somebody, but I still don’t think I can get on a plane.’

  ‘Alright. I’ll find somebody,’ Colby reassured her, but of course he asked Summer – the organised one – to do it.

  ‘I realise it’s not the most pressing problem, but I’m starting to worry about Caitlin,’ he said. ‘I feel terrible about it, but she has to leave – she had a three-month visa, and it’s running out – but she’s absolutely petrified about getting on a plane.’

  Summer nodded. Colby had mentioned the problem before. ‘I understand. I feel pretty anxious about it myself. And she’s very young. She must have been terrified. Imagine being up there, at that level, in your apartment, eye-to-eye and seeing that plane crash.’

  ‘She didn’t see the plane crash,’ said Colby, ‘she was in the shower.’

  Summer looked perplexed.

  ‘Are you sure? She told me she saw the plane fly into the building. She saw the whole thing happen. She thinks she even saw the pilot.’

  ‘She’s losing her mind. She was in the shower. When I found her at Columbus Circle she still had conditioner in her hair.’

  ‘Well,’ said Summer, confused, ‘that is odd. But don’t worry, I’ll find you somebody.’ And she did: she found Dr Susan Greenberg.

  ‘She’s good.’ She handed Colby a Post-It note with the address and phone number in her lovely, cursive script. ‘But it’s going to be hard to get in. She’s seeing a lot of people with the same problem, apparently.’

  ‘I owe you one,’ said Colby.

  Dr Greenberg’s offices were on the ground floor of an elegant, pre-war brownstone near the corner of East 88th and Park. Patients were seen there only on Thursdays. Colby placed the first call, and explained the situation: ‘I have a girl staying with me. She’s from Australia and her visa is about to expire. But she’s grown terrified of flying.’

  ‘I completely understand,’ Dr Greenberg said, ‘but I have many patients in that situation: flights booked, and they can’t bring themselves to get on. So, our waiting list is very long.’

  ‘This is important. Her mother has MS and they’re checking everyone on a visa. I’m worried that Border Patrol will come and put her in detention. Can you see if you can find something? I’m at Carnegie. We’re working from temporary offices at the Hilton.’

  That worked. Dr Greenberg found a gap in her calendar. Then came the problem of getting Caitlin to go.

  ‘I don’t want to get on the plane,’ she said. She was face down on the hotel bed, with a pillow over her blonde head. ‘Why can’t I just stay here?’

  ‘It’s not healthy to spend so much time in this room,’ said Colby.

  ‘Not here in the hotel. Why can’t I stay here in New York with you?’

  ‘Because it’s not your home and if you don’t go willingly they’ll deport you. You’ll never be allowed to visit me again. You’ll be forcibly deported. And in the current climate, probably tortured.’

  The last bit was supposed to be a joke. Caitlin didn’t laugh, but she did grudgingly go to Dr Greenberg’s rooms. They were very pretty – there were two pale linen chairs, and a slow-moving ceiling fan – and Dr Greenberg seemed very pleasant, with her jangly earrings and short brown hair.

  ‘Alright then,’ she said, reading from the clipboard on her lap. ‘Caitlin Hourigan. It’s nice to meet you. And your friend here is Lachlan, known as Colby. It’s nice to meet you, too. Native New Yorker. Very nice. How can I help?’

  Caitlin and Colby were side-by-side on the dark visitor’s sofa. Caitlin’s arms were hanging down and her wrists were turned upward, like she was ready to be handcuffed. Colby had on one of his well-made suits, with his big watch turned inward so he could discreetly keep an eye on the time. Not for the first time, he explained the problem: ‘Caitlin came out to New York at my invitation, on a tourist visa. It’s about to expire. She’s from Queensland, Australia. But after what’s happened, she feels that she can’t get on a plane. She’s on medication. I took her to my medico, and he’s given her some Valium. But her nerves are still off the scale.’

  Dr Greenberg turned to Caitlin. ‘Is that right?’

  ‘I suppose so. Whenever I think about having to fly, I feel sick. Not sick like nausea but dread. It’s like my heart is beating in my ears. Like my eyes are going to pop. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘And you didn’t feel that way before 9/11 obviously?’

  ‘No. But our apartment, it was right next door. The whole building shook. The noise. I can’t un-hear it. I had to run downstairs. I saw people jumping. I stepped on somebody on the ground who was dead.’

  Dr Greenberg’s pen was cruising over the pad on her clipboard. ‘And do you still see those images, Caitlin?’

  ‘I do. But that’s not the only thing. Another thing I’m dreading is, I don’t want to be where people won’t understand. I don’t want to have to answer a million questions about it. The people at home, they have no idea. I spoke to my mum afterwards and she said, “Oh, well, the US meddles in other countries. I suppose this is payback.” I can’t talk to people who think like that. They don’t wake up hearing what I do. They don’t have the nightmares, seeing what I do.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t be alone there. I have several patients in a similar spot,’ Dr Greenberg reassured her.

  ‘I think we’re all sick of talking about it,’ said Colby.

  Dr Greenberg looked at him, and made a short note on her pad.

  ‘Now,’ she said to Caitlin, ‘maybe try to explain to me exactly what goes through your head when you imagine yourself on the plane.’

  ‘But that’s just it, I don’t imagine getting on a plane.’ Caitlin was sitting with her feet turned inward, and her hair hanging like rags over her face.

  ‘Well, why don’t we try to imagine it together?’ suggested Dr Greenberg. ‘Let’s do it now. Close your eyes. That’s good. Now, you’re at the airport.’

  Caitlin’s eyes flew open.

  ‘No, no, keep your eyes closed. There’s no need to panic. We’re just imagining. You’re at the airport. You’ve been through security. It’s been very thorough. You’ve had your bag X-rayed. You’ve been patted down. Nobody’s got a nail clipper. Nobody’s got even a plastic knife.’

  ‘Can we please stop?’ pleaded Caitlin. ‘I can’t do this.’ She put her hands over her ears. She turned to Colby and said, ‘Please don’t get impatient. I’m actually scared to death. Just talking about this, I’m terrified.’

  Colby squeezed her hand. ‘I know you are, but it’s irrational. A repeat of 9/11 is the last thing that’s likely to happen right now. Nobody’s going to try to hijack a plane again – or not for a long time.’

  Dr Greenberg cleared her throat. They turned to look at her.

  ‘I can feel your frustration,’ she said, ‘both of you. But, Colby, could I just say, it’s not actually irrational to be fearful of flying right now.’

  Caitlin nodded gratefully. ‘Thank you. Finally, somebody
understands.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Colby, ‘but look, Caitlin came to the US on a three-month visa. What will happen if she over-stays? Is she going to be placed in detention? Because that’s not good for anyone.’

  ‘Including you,’ said Dr Greenberg.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Well, come on, Mr Colbert. Let’s be honest. It’s not all that convenient for you to have Caitlin here, is it? I understand that you invited her, but the fact that she’s still here, too frightened to fly, that’s something of a nuisance, am I right?’

  Colby looked gobsmacked. ‘So, now this is my fault? How is this now my fault? Obviously none of this is ideal.’

  ‘But you do take some responsibility for it?’ Dr Greenberg asked. ‘For the fact that Caitlin is here, I mean? You invited her to come. You paid for the ticket. And then came 9/11. And it’s because of 9/11 that Caitlin cannot leave.’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Colby. ‘I’m to blame for 9/11? I lost friends on 9/11. Close friends.’

  ‘We all did.’

  ‘Look, I get that. I understand. And I know she’s frightened. But I honestly can’t see what choice she has, other than to go home. Her visa is about to expire. She says she doesn’t want to go and I understand that, but there are certain realities.’

  ‘Which are that you don’t want her here anymore?’

  Caitlin drummed her feet on the floor. ‘Can we please stop this?’

  ‘It’s alright, Caitlin,’ Dr Greenberg said. ‘Colby, I’d like to speak to Caitlin on her own for a while. Is that okay? We’ll call it our first appointment.’

  ‘Sure. Fine.’ Colby got up and kissed the top of Caitlin’s head. He shook Dr Greenberg’s hand. ‘I’ll wait in the foyer.’

  Forty minutes later, Caitlin came out.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said. She was actually smiling, which unnerved Colby. She had not smiled for weeks. He took her hand, and they walked outside to hail a taxi, looping through the roads that run through Central Park.

  ‘So, what did you think? Was it worthwhile?’

  ‘It was great,’ Caitlin said, and she did seem chipper. ‘I really like that doctor. She was good. She gets what’s going on. She told me: “In my opinion, you have a phobia.” Meaning, an actual illness, like high blood pressure. Lots of people can’t fly for health reasons and that’s me. She gave me a certificate. I can use it to get my visa extended. It’s good news, Colby. I can stay.’

  Chapter 15

  ‘Your mother called.’

  ‘My mother? What did she want?’

  ‘To invite us to Thanksgiving.’

  Colby had been buttoning his cuffs in the ensuite of their room at the Hilton. It was November 2001, and Caitlin still had not gone home.

  ‘My mother called to invite us to Thanksgiving?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Colby came out of the bathroom, shirt buttons undone. He looked at Caitlin, sitting up in the hotel bed in her pink and baby-blue bra, with the room service breakfast tray beside her.

  ‘That’s odd.’ Colby shook his head, a little bewildered, and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

  ‘So, can we go?’

  Colby didn’t answer. Caitlin listened for the sound of brushing to stop.

  ‘I said, so can we go?’

  Colby came out of the bathroom, towel to his lips.

  ‘I suppose we have to go, don’t we? You can’t really say no to Thanksgiving.’

  ‘I don’t even know what it is.’ Caitlin bounced on the mattress. Of course she knew, from TV and from reading the papers: it was an American family holiday. The first since 9/11 was being described as especially poignant: there would be many people missing from many tables.

  ‘I’m happy she’s asked us,’ said Caitlin. ‘I know you think she’s strange, but maybe all this has changed her. Maybe she’s thinking about family again.’

  ‘My mother hasn’t thought about family since the day my father died.’

  ‘She loves you.’

  ‘She loves bossing me around. She’d run my life if I let her.’

  ‘You’re all she’s got.’

  ‘She’s got that apartment, and it’s rent controlled. That’s worth quite a bit in New York. Now, let me go to work.’

  Colby went out the door and Caitlin threw off the bedcovers, got dressed and headed down to the hotel foyer. She tracked down Carlos – Colby had asked the Hilton to take him on – and broke the news to him.

  ‘I’ve been invited to Thanksgiving at Colby’s mum’s,’ she said.

  ‘Well, that’s good news! Maybe she sees you as part of his family?’

  ‘I’ll have to get something to wear. Point me in the right direction.’ Carlos pointed Caitlin towards Zara. She bought a white woollen dress, a white woollen cape, and leather boots – clothes that she’d never need in a million years in Townsville – and when she put the outfit on, she knew that she looked good.

  She played the evening over. How would it go? The celebration would be muted, because the memory of 9/11 was fresh and the US was at war. Still, the table would be set, probably with old crockery from when Colby was a boy. White plates with silver rims, crystal goblets and silverware. Reg would bring out a whole bird from the kitchen. Knives would be sharpened at the table. Pearl would wear an apron with a bow tied at the small of her back. Okay, maybe not, but it was nice to be asked and Caitlin would try hard to get Pearl to like her.

  Then Thanksgiving came, and everything went pear-shaped. They rode the creaky elevator up to Pearl’s turret apartment. Reginald opened the door. He had the same frayed and faded uniform, and wore the same shoes with the one stacked heel. The table had been set, with Pearl at the head, and Caitlin and Colby opposite each other. The table was large, so there was at least a metre of space between each of them. Caitlin sat down, and the pad on the red velvet chair beneath her bottom shifted sideways. The seat was loose.

  ‘Reginald, you may serve,’ said Pearl.

  Reginald nodded and went to the kitchen. Two minutes later, Caitlin heard a ping. Slices of turkey, already on plates, were being heated in the microwave. Gravy was being poured, straight from the polystyrene cup into which it had been stirred. Caitlin tried to make some conversation. Pearl sat waiting and smoking.

  ‘So,’ Pearl said, when all three plates had been placed on the table, ‘happy Thanksgiving, I suppose.’

  ‘Happy Thanksgiving!’ Caitlin raised her glass.

  ‘Right,’ said Colby.

  Colby got started and, in minutes, his meal had been devoured. Pearl ate next to nothing. She put her fork down and lit another cigarette.

  ‘My dear Caitlin,’ she said, ‘I hope you’ll excuse me if I ask a few questions of you?’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ Caitlin rested her own knife and fork.

  ‘Well, first of all – it’s been what, two months now since those attacks? How long is it, exactly, that you intend to stay?’

  Caitlin was caught short. She swallowed and said, ‘To be honest, Mrs Colbert, I’m still not sure. I’ve got this fear of flying. I’m sure Colby – Lachlan – has told you about it. But I’m seeing a therapist and we’re working on it. It’s hard for people to understand but I am really frightened.’

  Pearl put out her cigarette. ‘You’re really frightened.’

  It was not a question, but Caitlin felt compelled to answer it. ‘Yes. When I think of getting on a plane, I just …’

  Pearl tapped the base of her lighter against her cigarette case. It was a silver case, with her initials lightly engraved on the lid. She looked over at her son. ‘You know she’s got you trapped.’

  Colby put his fork down. ‘Let’s not do this. I just knew you’d do this.’

  ‘You know it as well as I do. Fear of flying! Plenty of people are back on planes.’

  ‘We’ve had this conversation,’ Colby said. That was news to Caitlin, who was still sitting there, stunned. ‘We do
n’t need to have it again. Let’s drop it.’

  But Pearl persisted. ‘The longer she stays, the harder it’s going to be to get her to leave. I’ve told you that before. And now I’ve just asked her point blank when she’s going. And she hasn’t answered. Because she has no intention of going, do you, Caitlin? You’ve got your claws into my son and you have no intention of letting go.’

  Colby stood up, furious. Caitlin sat frozen. Reginald limped around the table, clearing the plates.

  ‘What would you have me do?’ Colby asked. ‘Force her onto the plane? Drag her to the airport?’

  Pearl lit another cigarette, and tapped it without looking at Colby. ‘No. I can’t see you doing that. That would be too sensible.’

  Colby pushed his chair away from the table. ‘Alright. I didn’t want to do this today. I hadn’t even really made up my mind. But now I’m convinced, and you might as well know: Caitlin and I, we’re engaged to be married. That’s why Caitlin hasn’t gone home. I’m making her my wife.’

  Pearl looked stunned. She turned to stare at Caitlin, who was even more stunned.

  ‘Well,’ Pearl said, finally. ‘Hasn’t she got you by the short and curlies.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘How on earth can you be getting married? You hardly even know each other.’

  ‘I’ve known Caitlin for two years.’

  ‘You’ve seen her three times in your life, and the first time she was serving the drinks.’ Pearl had barely smoked her cigarette but now butted it, and made room on her lap for Miffy, who had been lurking underneath the table in the hope of getting turkey scraps.

  ‘So that’s it?’ Colby said. ‘No congratulations?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Congratulations for what?’ Pearl stroked the dog’s head with a bony hand. ‘Congratulations to Caitlin, obviously, for getting her claws into you. And isn’t that lucky? Because, Caitlin, Colby has told me that you have no money. Your family has no money. Your mother is an invalid. Your father is some kind of island hill-billy. So, you’re not quite the catch, are you?’

  Caitlin still had not said a word. Colby was standing. He took Caitlin’s hand and pulled her from her chair.