“Okay,” I said and handed my mother the mail. “Wait.” I spied a small brown box with my name on it. I took the box then handed my mother the rest of the mail.
I watched my mother walk off. Deep down I knew my mother was experiencing something beyond joy in this moment. She was just trying hard to hide it. I guessed my relationship with her was always something of an uncomfortable, seemingly wordless one. Oh, we talked, but mostly about nothing of importance. We had a hard time with words, especially when it came to my accomplishments, of which there were very few, but even more so when it came to my failures, of which there were more than I could count.
I looked at my box. By the postmark, I knew it was from Reid. I shook it by my ear as I walked into the Zen garden. Something rattled around inside. I perched herself on my boulder bench. Shook the box once more then slid my finger under the brown edge of the paper wrapped around the box, finally breaking the taped seal. The brown paper was stiff, course, and reminded me of old grocery sacks.
In my lap sat a white box. I studied the small container intently before lifting the lid. There was a dark green stone the color of jade, smooth and almost heart-shaped, tucked inside. I picked it up and held it in my hand. It wasn’t very heavy, and a little bigger than a silver dollar. I felt the smoothness of the stone, and discovered my thumb rested easily within the middle hollow. I rubbed the stone before I picked up the note card.
The note card smelled of jasmine and said:
Baby bird,
I found this. Someone told me it was a wishing stone. It has the power to grant a wish, take away your fears. Maybe you could make a wish. Give it some of your fears. I hope you are well.
Reid
Chapter Five
I clutched onto my wishing stone as though my life depended on it while my mother drove me to the eye clinic. Due to my condition, the doctor agreed to make the consultation along with the procedure all in one visit. I figured Mrs. Addison persuaded him of such, but imagined the persuasion came at an extra cost.
When the car finally stopped, I took in a deep breath. My eyes had been shut the entire drive. I heard honking horns, and the noise of the traffic mix into the buzzing sounds of the city. I blocked it out. I found that place deep inside of me, and went there. The quiet, tranquil place.
“Ready?” my mother asked.
I nodded before taking my mother’s arm.
When I made it to the waiting room, I sat down and closed my eyes, all the while rubbing the wishing stone Reid sent me. I figured people were probably watching me, believing me to be insane, but I built that wall up to conceal the thought. I concentrated on Reid. My mind went to the silver of Reid’s eyes, the lines of his body, the tone and texture of his voice.
I heard, “Trinity Winslow.”
My mother took ahold of my hand. I was far too old to have my mother hold my hand, but I needed the support in order to walk into the exam room. I kept my focus on the floor and witnessed my feet move forward. I knew they were my feet, yet I had that feeling. As if I were unsure I was actually moving. I’d experienced this detached feeling many times before. In an attempt to break this detachment I glanced at the carpet and noticed it was deep green with a wave pattern.
“Mrs. Winslow,” a kind female voice greeted. “Mrs. Addison has explained our possible dilemma today.”
I glanced up to see the nurse, dressed in a light pink smock. Her brown hair was cropped short, and she wore a silver lip ring. I touched my own lip in sympathy, and wondered if piercing your lip hurt.
My mother started to reply, “Yes, well, Trinity—”
“Trinity is standing here in the room.”
Mom blinked. She stared at me like I’d suddenly sprouted a third eye. I clutched to the stone in my hand. If I wanted Reid I had to do better.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, “I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Trinity.”
I mustered up a half grin that remained partly obscured by my curls.
“It’s fine. I do a bang up job at making myself uncomfortable,” I replied.
The nurse asked, “Trinity, what can we do to help you feel more comfortable?”
I thought about that for a moment. No one ever bothered to ask that specific question of me before.
“May I ask what your name is?”
“Sure, Trinity. I am Lillie. Most people call me Nurse Lillie, but you can call me—”
“Nurse Lillie,” I said. “And the doctor’s name?”
“Doctor Richards,” Nurse Lillie replied.
I puffed out my cheeks with air then exhaled. “Okay, well, it helps to know your names, and it will help if I can keep hold of my wishing rock.” I rubbed it, allowing my thumb to feel the soothing smoothness. “It helps me with the anxiety to rub it,” I explained, “and it also helps if no other people I don’t know enter my space.”
“Trinity, I assist Doctor Richards so it will only be myself and the doctor. Would you like your mother to stay?”
I looked at my mother. “I need to do this on my own.”
She nodded. “I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”
****
November 3rd
I entered the main house, gazed at the staircase then made my way over to the study. Mrs. Addison had given my quite of few projects, but it was coming to an end. The last box of records awaited me. This time I was looking for wire transfers to a bank in Zürich. I tugged the box across the desk, and sat down.
I noticed a family portrait perched on the corner of the large oak desk. It must have been taken when Reid was twelve or thirteen. Next to it sat another photograph. He was wearing a navy blue cap and gown, and holding a diploma in his hand. Obviously that photo was from his high school graduation. I picked up the silver frame that contained the family portrait, and marveled at how Reid had always been beautiful, never gangly or awkward. I gawked at the younger face of Reid, but his eyes were still the same. Liquid pools of silver. Snap out of it, Trinity. I was daydreaming of Reid instead of getting my work done.
I pulled the lid off the box and grabbed the first section of records while my other hand made its way to the crystal pen holder. I snagged a familiar yellow highlighter. The ringing of the phone cut through the room. Startled, I jumped. Subsequently the files in my hand scattered on the floor in disarray.
“Cheese and crackers!” I bent down to pick up the folders. I expected the phone to stop. My mother had to be around somewhere. But the phone rang, and rang, and rang… “Mother, the phone!” I yelled out. No response. I bit my lip, took a breath, gazed at the phone for a moment then picked up the handset. “Addison residence,” I greeted.
There was a long pause. A breath.
“Trinity?”
My stomach flipped.
“Reid,” I said, the sound of my voice was clear, not breathy. This surprised me.
A pause.
“Trinity, how are you? And what are you doing answering the phone?”
I giggled. Reid stilled.
“I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m working for your mother. She had some files she wanted me to go through for her, and, well … the phone started ringing. I was the only one here, so I answered it.”
A breath. An exhale. Another long silent pause. It became so quiet, I wondered if Reid was still on the line.
“Reid, are you still there?”
“Yes,” he said. “You are working for my mother?”
“Yes, Reid.”
“I have to admit you surprised me, Trinity.”
“Some surprises aren’t all that bad,” I teased.
“No,” he agreed, “some surprises aren’t all that bad.”
“Do you need me to give a message to your mother?”
“I can call my back, baby bird. It’s probably best I give her the news.”
“What news?”
“Trinity, you sound different,” he commented.
“Not the same baby bird you remember?”
“No,” he a
dmitted.
“That may not be all that bad either,” I said.
“There is nothing wrong with being my baby bird.”
“But I was never yours.”
Silence.
I should say something.
“Thank you for all the postcards, the pictures, and the wishing stone,” I interjected, breaking the sound of nothing.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked them.”
I wanted to ask him about the chateau without being so obvious.
“The house was pretty.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“What did the words on the back mean?”
“A dream,” he answered.
“Oh. And how is your friend. Wasn’t his name John Paul?”
“Yes, he is fine.”
“Still painting?”
“Yes.”
“And you? Have you tried your hand at painting or just photography?”
“Just photography,” Reid replied.
“Your picture was great; you might have a hidden talent.”
“Trinity?”
“Yes?”
“I really hate to cut this call short, but I need to get off the phone. I’m late for something. I wanted to tell you…” He hesitated.
“What?”
“It’s been good talking to you.”
“Will I see you for Christmas?” I asked.
“No. I won’t be home this year.”
I felt my buoyancy deflate. I knew one of my greatest fears was happening. Reid wouldn’t be coming home. I may never see him again. Someday his life would take him away permanently. He would leave me behind.
“Trinity, are you still there?”
“Yes,” I said as I took a hold of the weakling lurking inside me, strangling it off. “It was good to talk to you too, Reid.”
“Trinity, would it be okay if I called you sometime?”
I blinked, unsure if I heard him right.
“You want to call me?”
“Yes. Would that be okay?”
“If you would like,” I said. I was giving him the choice.
“I would like.”
“Then I guess I might speak with you again, but if not—”
“Do you think I am lying to you? That I won’t call you?” His voice sounded miffed. I imagined that flicker of anger in his eyes.
“No. I think you have intentions of calling, but sometimes our intentions and our actions are two different things. Sometimes life gets in the way, and I know you, unlike me, have a life.”
“Well then, I guess you will be surprised the next time we talk. And I believe you will owe me an apology for doubting my word.”
“Yes, I guess I will.”
“It was really great talking to you. I do mean that, Trinity.”
“You too, Reid. It was good to hear from you. Be well, and goodbye.”
“It’s not goodbye, it’s I will speak with you soon.”
“Soon,” I said, and then the line went dead.
I sat bewildered, perhaps more than bemused, as I stared almost absent-mindedly out the window of the study. I wondered why I couldn’t be that woman all the time. Not just confident over the phone, but confident in person. Then I broke with the thought of not seeing Reid. It was only a matter of time. Soon, he would no longer think of me. I wanted to be real to him. I wanted him to take notice, to see me.
I heard the ticking of the grandfather clock in the background. With each tick it pulled up a memory. I closed my eyes and remembered what Reid looked like the day I snuck into his room to find him in the shower. How Reid took care of me the day I fell and cut my ankle. I recalled the afternoon he sat and told me stories of his football days in high school. I smiled with the memory of Reid trying to explain surfing. Since I wouldn’t go with him to the beach, he used his surfboard on the grass beside the guesthouse. He went through all the motions, jumping up, placing his body in a surfing stance, and pretending there was a wave.
I leaned back in the desk chair and recalled Reid’s story about a crazy party he attended his first year in college where everyone wore togas made out of bed sheets. I remembered his offer to take me for a ride when he got his new Jaguar. He looked sincerely disappointed when I of course turned him down. I remembered the look of anger on his face when he threatened L.J. over me. How he brought me a pizza one afternoon and we ate it while we listened to music and played poker. I recalled watching a movie with him, in the media room at the estate. Reid kept bugging me by throwing popcorn in my hair. Reid would taunt and tease me, other times he would go out of his way to be nice wanting to please me, but most of all I remembered how I felt that night in the moonlight when he called me beautiful.
I flipped around in the leather desk chair. I pulled my hair up, securing it with a rubber band then buckled down to finish my job for Mrs. Addison. I’d come to a decision, and knew what I needed to do.
Chapter Six
December 25th
I woke to the sound of my cell phone ringing a bell tone of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. It was probably Bentley calling to wish me a Merry Christmas. After all, this phone was only used for access to someone when I was alone. It was my “in case of emergencies” phone. It wasn’t as though my social life was so hopping that I was on the cell phone all the time. In fact, I could count all the times this particular phone had rung on one hand.
I scrubbed at my eyes before I glanced over to see the time on the alarm clock. It was 5:47 in the morning. I groaned, wondering why Bentley would call so early. I grabbed the slick black phone, in not quite a huff, and flipped it open.
A yawn. “Hello.”
“Merry Christmas, Trinity.”
I briefly pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. For a moment I wondered if I were dreaming. I pinched my thigh then winced. I was awake.
“Trinity?”
I pulled in a breath, placed the phone back to my ear, and gave myself permission to speak.
“Merry Christmas, Reid.”
“Sorry it took me so long to call you back. I know you didn’t believe I would call you. I can hear the disbelief in your voice.”
“I didn’t think you ever would call, but I’m glad you did.”
“Thank you for not hanging up on me,” Reid returned.
“What time is it there?”
“Ten till three in the afternoon. There’s a nine hour time difference.”
“So did you have a good Christmas? What are you doing?” I asked.
Reid chuckled. The sound was like coming home.
“Sure, I had a good Christmas. Right now I’m just sitting by the fire, looking out the window and watching the snowflakes fall. It’s snowing here.”
“Snowing? I bet it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, it is. It looks like a forest of white.”
I closed my eyes, listening to Reid’s voice, and tried to picture what he saw. “Reid…” I hesitated.
“What, baby bird?”
“Is there a pond on the property?”
“Yes, why?”
“I just imagined a pond.”
“Huh, good guess, you were right.”
“Do you like living in France?”
A breath. I imagined Reid running his fingers through his hair then resting his hand on the back of his neck.
“Sure.”
There was something going on in the background. It sounded like voices, in descript, but voices nonetheless.
“Is that John Paul?” I asked.
“Yes,” Reid said. “Hang on, Trinity.” Reid was speaking to someone. He sounded like he was upset. “I am on the phone. Can you give me a moment?”
A pause rang out then a buzzing of a voice in the distance.
Reid answered the voice in the background. “I know. I’ll be there.”
Another pause, more buzzing, a commotion, laughter…
“Fuck,” Reid muttered. It seemed as though he was holding the phone farther away, possibly covering the phone w
ith his hand. Nothing else for a long moment. “Baby bird, are you still with me?”
“Yes,” I muttered.
“I’m sorry for the interruption.”
“It sounds like you have a house full of roommates.”
“Always. What’s your plan for today? Are you looking forward to opening up your presents?”
“It’s just my mother and I this year. Bentley stayed in Georgia so no big plans, and I already opened my Christmas present.”
“What did you get?”
“Jogging shoes.”
Reid sounded shocked. “Jogging shoes?”
“Yeah. Pink and white Nike’s.”
“Jogging?” he asked, again.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
I’d started jogging. First, my goal was to make it a few feet, then a few more, and a few more. I made progress, and was jogging around the long palm lined road.
“But, you don’t leave the estate.”
“Reid, I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I will be leaving the estate.”
“What do you mean?” Reid’s voice sounded worried. I began twirling one of my curls around my finger as I spoke.
“After the first of the year you won’t be able to get ahold of me. I’m going back into the hospital.”
“Tell me why, baby bird?”
“There are things I need to deal with. I have decided if I continue to run away from what I fear, or maybe I should say hide away, I will always be locked behind closed doors. I don’t want to live this closed off life, Reid. I want more than what you see in me.”
I dropped my hand from my hair to the bed.
“I see more than you may believe.” Reid paused for a moment. “Give me the address. I will send your pictures there.”
“I can’t receive or send mail, and I can only call out one time a month, which I am sure will be to my mother. She worries a lot. So—”
“So I won’t be able to talk with you for a month or two?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess this means I will need to call you every day until you go.”
I giggled, and twisted my hand around the corner of my blanket. “You don’t have to do that. I know you are busy with much more important things.”
The Good Sister: Part One Page 7
