on with you, Grace? You're worse than ever, and just
when I have so many things to do. Well, talk." she
urged.
I simply sipped some water, "Apparently, from what the maid told me, you
ate a good breakfast, and you've been eating good
lunches and dinners, so there's nothing wrong with
Your appetite. What do I have to do, put you in some
mental clinic or something? Because I will if you
don't snap out of this. I mean it. Grace. You've had
way more than enough time to get your act together.
You can't go on like this."
I drank some more water and handed her the
glass, which annoyed her.
"I can't be a wet nurse to a girl in her twenties.
Do you have any pains any where? I'll take you right
to the hospital," she, said making it sound more like a
threat than an offer. "Well?"
"No," I said.
She stared at me a moment and shook her head.
"This is all emotional, silly emotionalism. We all have
disappointments in life, but we all have to go an.
Grace. You've got to get hold of yourself and stop
wallowing about in self-pity. It's unbecoming in a
young woman. I'm leaving for a few hours. When I
come back I expect to see you up and about, your hair
washed and brushed, and you in one of the pretty
outfits you have. We're going out to dinner tonight as
soon as Kirby gets home,
"I've decided to take matters into my own hands
now. I will bring you everywhere until you meet
people and start going places yourself I told Kirby the
same thing, and he finally agrees with me. Do you
want anything else before I go? I'll tell the maid to
bring it up to you, but I want you up. Grace. Do you
hear me? Don't just lie there staring at me as if I'm
talking in a foreign language."
"Parlez-vous francais?" I asked, and laughed. "Oh, you're so funny." She turned and started
out. "I'll be back in two hours or so."
"Deux heures,"I said.
"I'm glad you're finally putting your French
language studies to use, but please put them to
intelligent use, Grace. Go to school in France or
something."
"Mais oui, Mama. Au revoir," "Goodbye to
you, too." she said, and left.
I continued to lie there, just letting my thoughts
wander. I went walking through a maze of memories,
sometimes seeing and hearing things that occurred
when I was seven or eight and then things that had
happened along the way to Joya del Mar.
It was the distinct sound of a helicopter that
finally drew me out of bed and to my window. It flew low over the ocean. I knew it was owned by one of the very wealthy men or women who lived here. It wasn't military, but it still turned me into a little girl again, if
only for a little while.
Later I showered and dressed and fixed my
hair. I heard Mommy shouting orders at the servants
below, and then I heard her coming to my room. I was
ready. I thought, ready to go wherever she wanted.
She opened the door, looked at the bed, and turned to
see me standing by the bathroom door. For a moment
I truly wondered if she saw me at all. She didn't move.
She held her gaze, but her face was stiff, her lips
looking like a slash of red. Finally her mouth opened
and remained shaped in an 0 for a moment or two. "What in hell..." she began, moving a step
closer to me. "What are you supposed to be doing?" "Getting ready to go with you." I sang. "Getting ready to go with me? To what, the
circus? is this supposed to be some sick joke of yours.
Grace, because it's not in the least funny."
"I'm sorry." I said. I didn't know why I had to
say that. but I thought it belonged in the conversation. "You're sorry?" She took a deep breath, looked
up at the ceiling, and marched at me, seizing me at the
shoulders and turning me back into the bathroom, where she held me in front of the wall mirror. "Well?"
she asked.
I stared at someone. It was a young woman.
She had a blue blouse on, but she wore her bra over
the blouse. She was wearing a short red skirt over a
pair of jeans. One side of her hair was brushed back,
and the other was tied into a pigtail. The lipstick she
wore was under her lower lip and over the upper,
producing a crimson mustache. Small pats of rouge
over her forehead and cheeks made her face look
broken out in a rash. There was one long teardrop
earring dangling from her left ear and none on the
right.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Really. Who is that? It's certainly not Grace
Montgomery. Take everything off. wash your face,
and go to bed." she ordered. She sighed deeply. "You
win. I'm sending for the doctor. Go on." she insisted. -
Do as I say, Grace."
I stood there, puzzled, but she turned and left.
After she was gone I gazed into the mirror again. I
brought my hands up to feel the bra and realized I
wasn't looking at someone else. I was looking at
myself.
What was it she wanted me to do? I wondered. Yes, get undressed, wash my face, and go to bed. That's it I followed her orders. Soon she returned with our family physician. Dr. Cook. He had been
Winston's doctor and had been very fond of him.
-"Hello there," he said, pulling a chair up beside
the bed. "What's happening with you?"
I looked at Mommy, who stood at the foot of
the bed, her arms crossed under her breasts, her face
in a scowl.
"We're going to dinner," I said.
"Oh, are you?" He held my wrist and took my
pulse, leaned over and looked at my eyes. "Have you
been taking any pills. Grace?"
"Just to sleep." I said. "I have to sleep." "To sleep?" He looked at Mommy. She shook
her head.
"I haven't given her anything, and she hasn't
gone to anyone to get anything. Bob."
"Grace," he said. "where are these pills?" I lifted my head and then the pillow. He saw the
bottle and took it out to read it.
"Your prescription, Jackie Lee. From the date
on the bottle it looks like a renewal."
"Grace, when did you do that?" "I don't
remember."
Dr. Cook emptied the remaining pills into his
palm and counted them. He looked at the battle again
and then at Mommy.
"Considering what's missing since she got
these, she's been taking at least three or four a day!" "No wonder she's been moving around here like
a zombie. I'm so disappointed in you. Grace. How
could you do such a thing? It's dangerous to do that,
isn't it. Dr. Cook?"
"Of course."
"I had to sleep." I repeated.
"It's better to attack whatever is preventing you
from sleeping. Grace. You're a young woman. You
shouldn't need these on a daily basis." he said, pouring
the pills back into the bottle and handing it to
Mommy. "Do you have any pain anywhere, trouble
with your eyesight, your hearing. anything?" "No."
"Your mother says you fainted. Do you
&nbs
p; remember that?"
"No."
"Well, I'm going to have you see a neurologist."
he decided, and stood up. He turned to Mommy. "I'll
arrange for you to take her to see Mark Samuels
tomorrow. Jackie. Let's get to the bottom of it fast." "Thank you. Bob."
"For now I would like you to remain in bed.
Grace. Have a light dinner, and just try to relax" "Okay," I said.
"You'll be fine," he added with a smile. Then he
walked out with Mommy, and they spoke in very low
tones as they continued down the hallway, but I did
make out the word depression.
The maid brought my dinner to me later. I ate
most of it, and then I did try to sleep without the pills.
I dozed on and off until I heard Mommy came into my
roam. She was returning from dinner, and I thought
she looked very nice. I told her so.
"Thank you. Grace. How are you feeling?" "Tired," I said.
"You're always tired." she complained. "Even
without those pills. You don't do anything, and you're
always tired." She walked to the window and looked
out with her back to me. "Kirby hasn't come home,
and he didn't call. He was supposed to take me to
dinner. I left word for him to meet me at the
restaurant, but he didn't show up, and he's still not
home, and he's still not called. It was very
embarrassing, sitting there in the booth by myself. I
could see them all looking at me and whispering. "All this happens at once." she moaned. Her
shoulders slumped, and I felt so bad for her. "I'm sorry, Mommy," I said.
"There's nothing for you to feel sorry about.
Grace. Just get well. We're going to see the
neurologist tomorrow afternoon. I was hoping Kirby
would be home and be with us."
She looked at me. "'Try to get some sleep.
Grace." she said. She touched my cheek, leaned over,
and kissed me on the forehead. "I'm going to end up
taking two of those pills myself," she muttered
disgustedly, and left me.
I did everything I could to fall asleep again. I
even tried counting sheep, but they soon were sheep
with faces of people I had known, and all that did was
keep me awake. I tossed and turned and finally, just
before morning, dozed off. Mommy said later that she
had stopped by to see if I was ready for breakfast but
had left me alone because I was sleeping so well.
Finally she woke me.
"We've at to get some food into you and get
you dressed to go to the doctor. Grace. Come on." she
said. "Get up."
I wiped my eyes with the base of my palms and
looked at her in confusion. "The doctor?"
"Oh. Grace. don't tell me you don't remember
anything that happened yesterday. I had Dr. Cook
here, We've made arrangements for you to see a
neurologist today. Get up and get dressed normally.
Do you want me to send Lourdes up here to help
you?"
"No. I'll be all right," I said. I was still
confused. but I didn't want to keep telling her. I could
see something else was bothering her. too.
I ate what I could, and we left for the doctor's
office in West Palm Beach, He had offices at the
neurological center. Everyone was very nice to us.
The doctor first spoke with me for a while, and they
decided to put Inc through some tests, which included
eye exams, hearing, a brain scan, even examining my
feet. I was there most of the day. In the end the doctor
concluded I had no physical problems. Mommy told
him she had thought so. The conclusion was I should
see a therapist because my problems were mental and
emotional. He suggested I see a Dr. Anderson, and
Mommy made that appointment the following day. In the meantime Kirby came home, and
although they didn't argue in front of me I heard them
bickering in their suite. Later that evening he came to
my room to see me. I was trying to read again, hoping that it would make me tired enough to get a goad night's rest. I kept thinking I had already read this
book. but I wasn't positive, so I read on.
He knocked on the door and peered in. "So," he
said, slipping in and closing the door softly behind
him. "you haven't been feeling well. huh?"
I just looked at him without replying. He
seemed very nervous, tense, his eves shifting from
one side of the room to the other and avoiding directly
gazing at me. I was surprised that he looked unshaven.
too. His hair wasn't its neat perfect self. and his jacket
was wrinkled as it would be if he had slept in it. "Your mother's driving me mad," he said. "All
of a sudden I'm the one who's neglecting her, and it's
not vice versa. Women. Can't live with them, can't
live with them." He laughed.
He stole a quick look at me and walked to my
vanity table, where he checked himself in the mirror.
"I had a tough time getting back from Dallas. Plane
delays. cancellations, slept in an airport waiting for
the next flight, but does she take any of that into
consideration? No. All she knows is I missed a dinner
date. A dinner date. for crissakes! How important
could that have been?" He turned, his arms up. I was still staring at him. He dropped his arms to his side and looked at me askance. "What is supposed to be wrong with you? She tells me you're fine, but you fainted and did some wild off-the-wall thing with clothes and makeup." He smiled. "I would have thought you'd be more energetic, revived, ready to go out there and whip those college guys until they
begged for mercy. huh?"
My silence was making him more nervous. "Look," he said. "I heard you're going to see a
psychiatrist tomorrow. You know those guys can get
very nosy, poking their faces into your most intimate
secrets. You be careful about that. Most of the time
they're just plain pornographers, getting their kicks
from their patients' exciting experiences. Understand
what I'm saying. Grace? If this comes out like that. I
won't be the only one with any guilt. Your mother has
seen you with me. She even believes you have a crush
on me and that's why you don't go out. A man can be
seduced as easily as a woman. Remember that." he
said in a threatening tone, "You understand what I'm
telling you? Don't just sit there giving me the silent
treatment, Grace. Talk."
"Te suis fatigue de parter,' I said.
"Huh? What's that, French?" He tugged on his
ear like Humphrey Bogart and smiled. "My French is a bit rusty. What did you say? Something about being
tired?"
"Mais oui. Bon soir."
"Bon soir? What are you, dismissing me? Fine.
Just remember what I told you," he said, and headed
for the door, where he turned to me again. "I'm with
two crazy women, if you ask me.' he said, and left. In the days and weeks to follow so much
changed at Joya del Mar. Kirby's trips became even
more frequent. Mommy was more and more upset
about it. but I was grateful. I began my therapy with
Dr. Anderson and found him to be a very nice man.
Mommy b
egan to retreat from her social committees
and events. She knew she was the center of gossip
again and all because of Kirby's behavior. She was
doing her best to hide my condition, but with as many
servants as we had and the tendency for people to
gossip, that was becoming an increasingly impossible
task. People like the Carriage sisters were at her,
pecking and pecking in a search for new information
they could gobble at their teas and luncheons. Nearly four months later I paused in the
hallway on my return from seeing Dr. Anderson
because I heard the distinct sound of Mommy sobbing
in the den. I hurried to the doorway and looked in at her. She was at her desk, her head lowered to her
arms.
"Mommy?" I called.
Slowly, as if her head weighed a hundred
pounds, she lifted it and looked at me through
bloodshot eyes.
"Oh. Grace," she said. "Grace.'
"What is it?" I asked her, stepping into the den.
"Kirby..."
"He's with another woman?" I asked quickly. "No, worse," she said. "He's seriously depleted
our fortune with his terrible investments and ventures
and heavy gambling. Our financial advisor just called
to give me the very bad news. We can't keep up this
estate. Grace. The best we can do is rent it out and
move ourselves into the beach house. Into the beach
house! Can you imagine that? Can you imagine what
these people will do to us, say about us? I can't show
my face anywhere in Palm Beach anymore." "Where is Kirby now?"
"In hell. I hope," she cried, and took a deep
breath. 'I don't know where he is exactly. Hiding from
someone he is indebted to. I'm sure. I've asked my
lawyer to begin marriage dissolution activity. I've got
to dissociate myself from him as quickly as I can so I
can salvage something for us.
"I'm sorry." she told me, "This is all my fault. I
never should have begun with him. I should have
listened to wiser heads instead of my own foolish
heart. Look what I have done to us."
"Oh. Mommy, you haven't done anything to us.
He's done it all."
"Yes, well, he wouldn't have had the chance if
it wasn't for me," she said, thumping her chest so hard
with her fist it made me wince.
Then she sat straighter, flicked the tears from
her cheeks, and firmed her lips. "Well. I have my
work cut out for me. I might as well begin. We've
been down before, and we've come back. We'll do it
DeBeers 04 Into the Woods Page 33
