by Lauren Dawes
That was the thing with Barb; she had grace to spare and made everything look effortless. Tonight was the one exception to that grace. She managed to jostle her arm as she took her last step off the stairs. With a pinched expression, Indi delighted in the flash of pain on her face before Barb smoothed it back to warm arrogance.
‘Jerry, Indi, I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said with sincerity; Indi just wasn’t sure that Barb was addressing her when she said it. ‘Shall we go into the sitting room for some canapés?’ Barb glided past them, laying a gentle hand on her son’s arm as she passed. Indi closed her eyes to stop her anger from flaring, but as she did, she heard Jerry’s heart quicken in his chest at her touch. Jerry trailed after his mother and Indi stalked after them both.
The sitting room had always been Indi’s favourite room. The walls were the colour of the forest––a green so warm and so deep that she thought that she was eye-deep in leaves. The windows were dressed in the same forest green––the curtains a soft, heavy velvet. The two overstuffed couches in the centre of the room were a paler green with fat cushions laying lazily in the corners. The chestnut coffee table sat in the middle of a cream and burgundy rug set between the sofas. At one end of the rug was a white wing chair, and behind that was the six-foot wide, granite fireplace.
Along the top of the mantel were pictures of Jerry growing up. There was only one photo of Indi. It was of her and Jerry in the swimming pool together on one hot summer’s day. His strawberry-blond hair was cut short––looking more strawberry than blond. With his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his head rested on top of her head. Indi’s tight-lipped grin dripped with beads of water from the pool, her hands resting on his. Jerry looked so happy. Indi almost looked happy, but she noticed—for the first time ever perhaps—just how haunted her eyes looked.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ Barb said. Indi turned around, finding Barb sitting in the wing chair.
‘I’m good,’ Indi replied, but Jerry took a seat on the sofa adjacent to his mother. Eric came in then, carefully balancing a silver platter on his palm. Three flutes of champagne sparkled in the light of the overhead chandelier. Attending to Barb first, Eric circled the room and came to Jerry. Eventually his attention turned to Indi, but she refused the drink.
‘Thank you Eric,’ Barb said, placing her good hand on his wrist as he placed some canapés onto the chestnut coffee table. He nodded reverently to her before whisking out of the room like a ghost. Barb’s steel-blue eyes gravitated to Indi, who was now standing behind Jerry so she could keep an eye on the threat.
‘I didn’t think that you’d actually come.’
‘Surprise,’ Indi replied darkly.
‘How’s your arm, mother?’ Jerry interrupted. Barb’s cold eyes went to her son, her face softening just a little. She looked down at the sling across her chest and forced a smile. ‘It’s uncomfortable.’
‘Not that I care, but were you hit by a poor person with a shopping trolley or something?’
Barb placed her champagne flute down onto a napkin on the table, methodically judging the exact centre of the paper. Indi could practically see Barb’s loathing for her. ‘Mark and I were in town looking for a new suit for him. We crossed the road to get a coffee, and as we were crossing the road this car ran the red light and ploughed straight into me. Well, at least that’s what I’ve been told. It happened all too fast for me to remember correctly,’ she said calmly as if she were reciting her shopping list to someone else. Jerry had retreated in on himself, trying to hold his emotions from his face, but was failing miserably. Indi could see the self-blame even though there was nothing he could have done to stop it. ‘The last thing I remember was Mark cradling my head in his lap with a phone to his ear. I woke up in the hospital later, told that I had had surgery to find the source of the internal bleeding,’ she said calmly. There were no hysterics, but truth be told, Indi had never seen Barb become hysterical over anything … well, except that one time. Barb pierced Indi with another hard stare. ‘I heard you died? Is that true?’ Barb asked in response.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but no,’ Indi replied coolly.
Jerry took her hand in his; squeezing it gently. She looked down at their joined hands and thought it was as if his giant hands would swallow hers completely. There was something comforting about that––letting the one man she trusted wholly with her life to take her completely and know that he’d look after her.
Indi glanced at Barb when she sensed someone’s blood pressure escalating—another crazy side-effect after waking up in hospital. She was sitting completely still in the armchair, her eyes fixed on their display of support and affection. Most people would think she would be touched by this––her son and her not-quite-adopted daughter sharing a special moment––but Indi knew her better than that. A very fine shudder shook the liquid in her glass, betraying her real rage. Eventually she put it down when the champagne threatened to slosh over the sides.
A silence so stifling that Indi thought she’d suffocate in it enveloped the room. On the verge of making small-talk, Eric appeared in the doorway. Barb glanced over at him and nodded.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ she announced, standing up in one gliding motion and walking over towards the archway that led through to the dining room. The fabric of her dress was so sheer that you could see just how great her figure was. Her hips swayed out to the sides like she was dancing to her own slow, erotic drumbeat. Jerry hadn’t let go of Indi’s hand yet, and she didn’t pull away. He needed the touch to help him get through the dinner. And she was starting to think that maybe she did too.
Chapter 27
Being back in that room brought everything back for Jerry. It flawed him. Beside him stood Indi, her breath sawing in and out of her lips too quickly. She swayed and only his hand on her arm stopped her from knocking into the dining room table. She gave him a nod to let him know she was okay. He turned back around, taking in the room that haunted him every night.
Nothing had changed. The table was the same; the indentations in the wood hadn’t been repaired and probably never would be. Jerry’s eyes drifted down to the flagstone floor. The rug was gone, replaced. Swallowing down thickly, he remembered what had happened in that very room only six months ago …
The sound of shattering glass had brought Jerry into the living room from the foyer. He was dressed in a Jay Kos suit, something his mother had insisted on. He felt much more comfortable in jeans and a casual shirt. They’d all just returned from his father’s trial. His father had been given a sentence of ten years imprisonment––parole in five––for sexual assault. His case wasn’t helped when some ex-employees of his came forward with sexual harassment suits against him either.
Indi had been in the living room curled up next to the arm of the couch with a book in her hands. His mother had been in the same room, curled up next to the arm of the couch with palpable animosity in hers. He looked towards the fireplace when the sting of alcohol reached his nostrils. His mother’s whiskey was creeping down the forest-green wallpaper, the glass shattered at the edge of the wall. She was staring with such longing at Indi’s back––not because of desire, but with an aggressive need to hurt her.
Indi hadn’t looked up. Her focus was clearly still on her book. It was as if she hadn’t even heard the crack of the crystal. Barb stood up.
‘Look at me!’ his mother shrieked. Indi continued to ignore her. ‘You did this! You did this to him with your lies!’ Barb spat, her whole body beginning to shake with so much rage.
‘Mother,’ Jerry said desperately. ‘Please. Don’t do this. It’s not her fault.’
‘Of course it’s her fault. She put your father in prison!’
‘He put himself there Barb,’ Indi said without looking up from her book—her voice bored. ‘He did this when he decided to rape me.’
‘You lying, little tramp! I can’t believe I let you under my roof. I can’t believe I let you get in my son’s ear.’
‘Jerry can make
his own decisions, Barb,’ Indi replied coolly, looking at her from the corner of her eye.
Jerry had to diffuse the situation or his mother was going to say something she would regret later. ‘Mother, why don’t you go into the kitchen and cool off? Maybe get another drink?’ Jerry suggested.
His mother gave him a dark look before she sashayed out of the room. She had changed so much since her father had been arrested. Her and his father didn’t have a perfect marriage, but it was something he could always depend on, something that was solid, something that he knew would always be there. After Indi made a complaint against him, Barb had started victimising her, bullying her, using her passive-aggressive nature to undermine her.
Jerry turned to look at Indi. ‘I’m sorry about her Ind. I think it’s the stress of having to sit through all the evidence and the media and everything.’
‘It’s fine. She’s threatened to kick me out before. I’ll survive,’ she shrugged.
‘I don’t want you to survive Indi. I want you to live the life you deserve.’ She’d been kicked out of every home she’d ever had. He was determined not to let that happen to her again. She smiled at him then, the rare smile she gave someone when all her defences were down.
‘Dinner is ready Master Jerry,’ Eric said from the doorway.
He turned. ‘Thank you,’ he replied. Just as Eric turned to leave, Jerry stopped him again. ‘Eric, have you seen my mother?’
‘She’s already in the dining room.’
‘Thank you Eric.’
Indi and Jerry went into the dining room, finding Barb sitting at the head of the table, another crystal glass of Remy Martin in her hand. When she saw Indi, she downed the remaining warm, brown liquid before getting up for another. Indi sat down opposite Jerry, her back to the kitchen door.
A noise made Jerry look up. When he thought about it later, he didn’t know why he had looked. The noise was a benign house noise, but when he raised his head, looking over Indi’s shoulder, he saw his mother walking towards them. In her hand was the carving knife from the kitchen. He could see her plan in her cold, midnight-blue eyes. She meant to kill Indi. Jerry didn’t even have time to draw breath to warn Indi when the blade came to her flesh.
Indi’s scream would forever be seared into his memory. Barb’s first blow landed in between Indi’s shoulder blades. His mother jerked the knife down and out before trying once more. With gritted teeth, Indi turned around, ready to face the next attack. She dodged each of Barb’s wild swings until the knife eventually became buried in the tabletop. Indi took the opening and slapped Barb across the face, sending her to the ground.
Jerry pushed out of his chair, rushing around to Indi. Her back was red with blood, her shirt sticking to her skin, refusing to let go. Shucking his suit jacket, Jerry pulled off his dress shirt and pressed it to the wound. ‘You’re going to be okay, okay? … Indi?’ he breathed. Adrenaline was dumped into his bloodstream, helping him focus on helping her. That was all that mattered to him right now. He leaned her forward, applying more pressure and praying that the bleeding was going to stop soon.
‘How bad is it?’ Indi asked, her face already growing pale. Jerry lifted up the material to check. The stab wound was two inches wide and God knew how many inches deep. Her lungs or heart or spine could be injured, and he had no way to tell.
‘Can you feel your arms and your legs … Indi?’ he added frantically. She seemed to be coming in and out of consciousness. ‘Indi!’
‘What?’ she asked grumpily.
‘Okay, okay.’ Jerry took a deep breath and released it. ‘You’re going to be okay.’
Indi swallowed down hard. ‘Don’t lie to me, Jer,’ she replied in a breathy voice.
He felt the first tears prick his eyes. ‘I’m not. You’re going to be fine. You see.’ He pressed a little harder against the profusely bleeding wound, hoping that what he’d told her was right. Jerry looked down at his mother. She was still out cold, a little blood trickling from her nose. He turned back to Indi.
‘Jer? I don’t feel so good,’ Indi groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head.
‘Indi?!’ He felt so helpless. ‘Indi?!’ Desperation turned him towards the kitchen. ‘Eric! Eric?! Call an ambulance!’
When he didn’t hear anything in response, he risked leaving Indi for a moment. Bursting through the kitchen door, he searched for help, but the kitchen was completely void of life. It was almost as if Barb had told them all to––
Jerry turned and ran back into the dining room to find his mother staggering to her feet, going for the knife again.
‘Mother! No!’
Barb, wiping the blood from her nose, ignored Jerry and lunged for Indi’s slumped form. Jerry ran as fast as he could, throwing himself between his mother and the one girl he was determined to save. Barb was so focussed on revenge that she didn’t realise what she was doing. Jerry had put up his arms to protect his face and neck as the frenzied attack continued, only stopping when his mother’s temporary insanity wore off. Looking down at her blood-flecked hands then back at her son, she started to shake; shock rocking her body so severely that the knife dropped from her fingers and to the flagstone floor.
Jerry had had to have stitches to close the wounds on his forearms. When Indi went in though, Jerry thought she’d have to have surgery to close up the stab wound. But when the doctor saw her, he’d cleaned the wounds and thought she’d only need stitches. He couldn’t believe it. He’d seen the knife go in. He’d seen the giant, gaping wound between her shoulder blades. He’d stared at the pool of blood on the rug as the paramedic team secured her to a gurney and wheeled her to the ambulance.
Jerry refocussed on the present. Indi was looking at him, worry plain on her face. He managed a smile before sitting down––not in her usual place––but one over. The memories of that night still haunted her. When everyone was seated, Eric came around placing a linen napkin into their laps with an expert flick of his wrist. As he approached Indi though, his cool, grey eyes met hers and an unspoken conversation took place. A second later, Eric nodded and Indi pulled her napkin down into her own lap.
‘So, Jerry,’ his mother purred, ‘how is the café going?’
‘Fine thank you mother,’ he replied cautiously, picking nervously at the edge of the gold placemat under his Wedgewood plate.
‘I had a peek through the window while I was waiting for you. It looked … quaint. Perhaps you should redecorate … you know, make it a bit more modern.’
Indi tensed beside him. The tone of his mother’s voice was always like nails down a chalkboard for her. Barb’s attention was on Indi, her lip curling up a little at her progress.
Jerry cleared his throat. ‘I can’t afford to redecorate.’ He took a drink, placing it back onto the table and trying not to let his mother see how shaky his hand was.
‘Well, I could loan you some money …’ she offered nonchalantly. ‘So, have you started dating again?’ Barb added.
Licking his lips nervously, he said, ‘No.’
‘How very interesting. Tell me though; you must be terribly lonely since Mark left.’
His breathing hitched in his throat. He couldn’t stop it happening. ‘I am.’ His voice was little more than the breath of a whisper. It cost him to say it too. His mother’s lip curled up into a fierce grin.
‘Well, as you know, Mark’s moved on already.’ She paused long enough to give him a chance to respond, but he couldn’t make his mouth and voice work together. ‘It wasn’t ever going to work out between you two, you know? You run a vulgar little café for God’s sake. Did you really think it would be a success? Did you really think he could love you for that?’
‘I …’ Jerry began, but the words got stuck, lodged at the back of his throat. He was afraid that he’d choke on them.
Barb gave him that fierce grin again, touching the sides of her mouth with her napkin. He crushed Indi’s hand to his, trying to get as much of her skin on his. His mother hadn’t changed. She was j
ust as bitter and as twisted as before. He was crazy to think that she would have changed; crazy to think that after the accident she wanted him back in her life.
Indi was staring at him, asking him wordlessly why in the hell he was just sitting there and taking the abuse. So, why was he?
He worked down the lump in his throat before speaking in a harsh whisper. ‘Is this why you asked me here, to taunt me about Mark?’
‘No dear. I asked you here so that I could mend the broken fences. I told you that before.’
‘Like fuck you did,’ Indi muttered under her breath.
‘I beg your pardon Indigo?’ his mother asked, her eyebrow arched on one side.
Before Indi could respond, Jerry said, ‘If you wanted to apologise for what you did to me—to us—then all you had to do was just that. Don’t invite us around and use derision as a way of saying you’re sorry.’ His mother looked offended, but he didn’t buy it.
‘Jerry, I would never do such a thing to you. I am your mother, and yes I may have made some mistakes six months ago, but being in that accident really put everything in perspective for me. You are all that I have left now that your … father … is in prison. I’m sorry for attacking you, for—’
‘You attacked Indi too. You stabbed her in the back,’ Jerry hissed.
‘She stabbed me in the back first!’ Her voice rose only a little, but that was enough of an indicator for Jerry.
Jerry stared hard at his mother. And for the first time in his life, he saw her. He actually saw her. The picture he had had in his head as he was growing up was perfect, but now he saw her for what she really was: warped and disfigured. She was like an oil painting where the colours bled and ran until the face that had been painted was no more than a mass of twisted features; a cruel mouth, a hooked nose with cold and hostile eyes all gnarled and unrecognisable.
