by Portia Moore
“He liked to have a lot of things,” I chuckle, nodding my head.
“Can we start here?” he asks, pointing to boxes of things that I don’t think are his taste at all.
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. He starts pulling down boxes from the top rows. He opens the first box and it reveals Cal’s variety of button ups, upwards of two hundred dollars a shirt. I see him frown as he goes through an endless array of them. He opens another box, revealing his blazers and vests. Box three is full of endless ties.
“What do you think?” I ask quietly observing him as he picks through each. He looks up at me as if he had forgotten I was standing here. He shakes his head.
As he returns to a standing position, he sighs. “None of this is really me,” he shrugs. He pulls out a smaller box tucked inside one of the larger ones he pulled down. I already know what it contains. Cal’s watches. His eyes widen when he opens the box. He picks one up, examines it, then looks over at me.
“Rolex, Cartier, there’s like twenty of these,” he says in disbelief.
“He liked watches,” I shrug with a laugh.
Chris isn’t finding this funny.
“There’s enough money in this box to buy someone a car,” he says disdainfully. “I bet he only eats caviar and escargot,” he jokes and I feel a little offended.
“Uhm no,” I say folding my arms.
“It just a little a hoity toity,” he laughs, scratching his head and I feel my defenses rise.
“He likes nice things but he’s far from being a snob if that’s what you mean.”
“It’s hard to tell by looking in these boxes. I thought I’d recognize myself somewhere in all this. So far I’m not seeing anything.”
“This building, his clothes, all this stuff. It just isn’t me,” he says as he pulls another box from the pile. His words hit a nerve and I feel myself biting my lip. I start to think that if his tastes are so different from Cal’s that I’m probably not ‘him’ either.
“The school does a clothing drive every year. Selling this stuff could make a lot of money for the fundraiser,” he says and I hear my breath catch.
“You want to sell all of it?” I ask abruptly. His glance catches mine.
“I mean, if that’s okay with you. I just think most of this is unnecessary. It’s definitely not my style.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. He wants to sell it. All of it…
My face is getting hot and my heartbeat speeds up. Screw the homework assignment and the visit to the doctor. I thought that this would be progress, that by him seeing his doctor and coming here he would somehow connect with Cal, that these things would help him to not hate that part of himself. But after everything that’s happened I’m beginning to think that he didn’t come here to connect with Cal. He came here to sweep him under the rug and tie up loose ends. The next time he comes he’ll probably be selling the apartment and closing accounts.
“I’m going back upstairs,” I say as evenly as I can.
“Lauren, you’re not mad at me are you?” he asks putting down the box and locking eyes with me. Of course I’m mad but I can’t say it.
I break away from his stare and reaffix my fake smile.
“I’m not upset. It’s your stuff. You can do what you want with it,” I say, trying to neutralize the bitterness in my voice as I head towards the exit.
“Floor thirty, suite B,” I tell him before I head out of the storage room. As I head to the elevator, a single tear falls. I don’t know why I’m so upset. They’re his things to sell. What he’s doing isn’t wrong. They’re not even my things, and if he wants to use it for charity, for God’s sake, it’s fine. Still it feels like a dagger in my heart. Just another major reminder that he’s not Cal he’s Chris and Chris hates Cal.
“Hey, wait, Lauren,” he calls after me. I stop but I can’t face him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. I can hear his sincerity.
“I really appreciate you coming down here with me. Not just here, but to Chicago and to see my doctor. I know none of this is easy for you,” he says and I feel him standing close behind me. I close my eyes and wish his arms would wrap around me, that he’d pull me close to him and tell me everything is going to be okay, but I know that’s not going to happen.
As I step into the elevator I turn to face him.
“I know Chris,” I say taking a deep breath. When the door closes I let another tear fall.
When he returns I’m sitting on the couch with the TV on a random channel I’m not even paying attention to. It’s just on for distraction. He was down there for about twenty more minutes after I left. Probably organizing what needs to go first.
He’s sorry, which is great, but it doesn’t help. In fact, sorry makes it worse. There’s almost nothing worse in the world than someone feeling sorry for me. I don’t want his pity. His pity means he believes that I’m in need of it, that my situation is a complete lost cause. Maybe it is, and if anyone would know, Chris would.
“I talked to your mom and let her know we’ll be later than we thought,” I tell him when he enters the room.
“Caylen’s doing okay?” he asks and I nod.
“Your mom said she just went to sleep,” I feel the couch shift with his weight as he sits beside me. I don’t look at him. I can’t, sometimes it’s just best that I don’t.
“That’s good,” he replies. I want to ask him if he asked about her when he was supposedly talking to his parents but I don’t.
We both sit in silence and after a minute he gets off the couch. He walks over to our sofa table, picks up one of the pictures and examines it. I turn my attention back to the Property Brothers even though I’ve seen the episode a hundred times.
“I’ve seen this picture before,” he says and sits back down beside me. I glance over at the picture of Caylen when she was only a few months old.
“Where’d you see it?” I ask him curiously. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he stares at it intently.
“I don’t know,” he mutters continuing to look at it like it’s a brain teaser. After a few moments, I turn towards him.
“Cal came back the night of Caylen’s birthday party,” I tell him quietly. I think back to the night when I heard his voice and how it turned the little world I had been building upside down.
“Maybe you saw it then,” I offer, seeing how much effort he’s putting into looking at the picture.
“My last blackout,” he says shaking his head.
“He didn’t talk to you?” he asks, confusion evident on his face. I shake my head.
“No, he didn’t talk to me. I heard him talking to Caylen over the baby monitor. He gave her a bracelet. Maybe you saw it when you were here,” I offer again. He shakes his head.
“No, if I had seen it then I’d remember all this. My memories are really vivid,” he says. That’s a surprise to me since he said he only sees bits and pieces of things.
“But I thou—” I’m about to ask when he snaps his finger and a realizations dawns on his face.
“My doctor’s office,” he says excitedly. I look at him strangely.
“Your doctor has a picture of Caylen in her office?” I ask him skeptically.
“Not the one I saw today. Dr. Lyce. I haven’t seen her in a long time. I stopped because…well it’s a long story but that’s where I saw this,” he says enthusiastically. I guess any mystery he can solve feels good when your life seems out of control.
But that doesn’t make sense.
“That can’t be right, Chris. Your parents said they didn’t know about Caylen. They knew about me but not about Caylen,” I say shaking my head.
If they lied about that, and they knew about Caylen all along, I could never forgive them. He looks over at me realizing the same thing. His smile disappears completely and he sinks back further into the couch.
“Are you sure that it was this picture and not another little girl?” I ask him, feeling a knot beginning to form in my stomach. I hope to G
od he’s wrong. I’ve really taken to Mrs. Scott but if she knew that Caylen existed and kept Chris from her and lied about it, there will be no going back. I really can’t imagine Mrs. Scott being able to keep herself from Caylen. But what other explanation could there be as to why one of his doctors would have that picture.
“I know this is the one I saw,” he says putting the picture down and his head in his hands.
“How could they do that? How could they lie about something like that?” he asks, anger penetrating his voice.
“If they had that picture, it had to come from somewhere. I didn’t give it to them. The only people who have that picture are Raven, Hillary, Angela, Helen, and Michael,” I say aloud to myself.
“Who’s Michael?” he asks, his head snapping up to look at me.
“Just a friend of mine,” I say quickly.
“I guess Helen could have given it to Dexter and he gave it to your doctor without your parents knowing,” I say, trying to figure this thing out.
“Helen is Dr. Lyce’s first name,” Chris says, and I frown.
“What?”
“Dr. Lyce. I think her first name is Helen.”
Are you fucking kidding me? No. No way.
I shoot off the couch and grab my iPad out of my purse.
“Lauren, what’s wrong?” Chris keeps asking me questions but my hands are shaking I’m so tense. I quickly pull up my photo album, scroll to a picture of Helen and show it to him.
“Yeah that’s Dr. Lyce,” he says hesitantly and I slam the iPad down on the couch.
“Unbelievable! Unfuckingbelievable!” I’m pacing the floor at this. HELEN was his doctor, my friend Helen. Helen who stood in front of me when I found out about him and pretended to not have a clue what was going on. I cover my face with my hands. I feel sick, the sense of betrayal washing over me. All of this time I thought I had an ally, that she was as clueless as I was.
Helen has never been as oblivious as I was. How could she do that to me and Caylen? I feel angry tears forcing their way out of my eyes. Chris stands up in front of me, bewildered.
“She was my friend!” I say angrily. Angry at myself for being so stupid.
“She knew all along. She was your fucking doctor?”
I feel myself getting angrier and angrier the more I think about it. I think back to Cal telling me how manipulative she was and how she wasn’t to be trusted. He’s a dick and she’s a lying cunt. I think back to our first conversation; she was probably analyzing me, seeing if I could psychologically handle all the bullshit they would put me through. While I was pulling my hair out after Cal left, paying detectives thousands of dollars, she pretended to be clueless. Smiling in my face and comforting me when she knew all along what was going on. I can’t take sitting here anymore. I grab my purse and my keys and head towards the door.
“Where are you going?” Chris asks, following me hurriedly. For a second I forgot he was even here.
“I’m going over there,” I tell him.
“We’re going over there,” I correct myself. I probably have more of a chance of getting in if Chris is with me. He looks reluctant but screw that! This is happening with or without him.
It all makes sense now. Why she’s been avoiding my calls.
Well she’s not going to avoid this.
Chapter 52
Chris
Coming here is a bad idea. I haven’t seen Lauren this angry since that day she showed up on my front porch. I want to tell her she needs to sleep on this. That coming here while she’s so angry isn’t going to help matters for anyone. I know she’s upset and she has every right to be but you can’t just act first and think later. She says she just wants to talk to Helen and I do think talking to her will help but not when she's this livid.
I believe Dr. Lyce and Dexter can shed some light on this situation. I have my own questions about some of the memories I’ve had but what worries me is the blank stare Lauren's had on her face the entire way here. That stare made me kind of wish security wouldn’t have cleared our visit. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen and we’re in. This building is even more opulent than the one Lauren lives in and when she hits the top button for the 86th floor I feel completely sick. They’re in the penthouse. Of course, where else would they be?
“Sorry, Chris,” she mutters and a few seconds later we’re going up. Up is okay. Down is going to be the problem. I try to focus on the elaborate art on the gold elevator doors. They probably cost more than my parents’ entire house.
“Are you okay, Chris?” she asks tensely. I nod as the elevator goes higher and higher. It doesn’t help that the walls are all glass and I get to see how high we’re climbing.
“I think this is a good idea,” I say aloud, partially to distract myself and partially to convince myself.
“Great idea,” she answers tightly.
“There’s a lot she can explain to us. Dexter might be able to shed some light on some things as well,” I say watching her expression remain impassive. She’s nodding her head but it’s pretty obvious she’s not listening to me.
“We just have to be level headed,” I say.
“Of course. Level headed,” she repeats. When the doors open, an older woman wearing all black greets us with a small smile.
“Mr. and Mrs. Scott. So good to see you. The Crestfields are waiting,” and that’s as far as she gets before Lauren storms past her.
“Sorry,” I say to the woman quickly following Lauren who’s walking down the long corridor so fast there should be a tailwind behind her. She doesn’t stop until we reach an opening revealing Dexter sitting on a sofa with a glass in hand and Helen sitting beside him. Lauren stops as soon as she sees them. She seems frozen in place. Helen stands.
“Christopher,” she says acknowledging me, her eyes linger before falling on Lauren. I notice her hands clasped together.
“Lauren. I have been anticipating this day for a long time,” Dr. Lyce says smoothly but her voice reveals tension. Lauren doesn’t say a thing. She still has that same expressionless stare she wore in the car.
“We know there are a lot of questions that you both want answered,” Dexter says coolly, shifting his drink from one hand to the other.
“There are,” I say as I fold my arms across my chest. Lauren is standing like a statue but I can see her breathing is distressed from the way her chest his heaving up and down.
“If you both would like to come sit in the dining room,” Dr. Lyce says gesturing towards a room.
“Lauren,” I say quietly, she still hasn’t moved or said a word. I think this is about to get really bad.
“I understand how you may be feeling now,” Dr. Lyce’s tone is calming.
“You don’t understand!” Lauren says bitterly.
“I thought you were my friend,” she adds quietly.
“I am your friend, Lauren,” she says approaching Lauren apologetically. My eyes see Lauren’s hand sort of twitch and I’m not fast enough to stop it when it swings back and slaps Dr. Lyce’s face so hard that she stumbles backwards. Lauren pounces on her. I pull Lauren off her as Dexter quickly goes over to help his wife.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Lauren?!” Dexter shouts.
“It’s okay,” I hear Dr. Lyce say as she gets up from the floor.
“What’s wrong with me?! What is wrong with you people? You think that you can play God, manipulate people’s lives, lie and deceive them and then have the nerve to say, to actually think, that you are our friends!” she screams hysterically as she writhes and struggles to get out of my arms.
“Get out!” Dexter roars angrily, pointing to the door.
“Gladly!” Lauren spits back as I carry her out of the room. We manage to make it out of the building before Dexter changes his mind and has security stop us. I don’t feel completely relieved until we’re back in the car and driving out of the security gate.
“I can’t believe them,” Lauren mutters angrily. I don’t say anything. I wish she would have ke
pt her cool in there. I actually think they were about to tell us something that could shed some type of light on this whole situation. No one knows more about me as Cal than Dexter and Dr. Lyce. Now Lauren has effectively burned that bridge.
“Can you believe them?” she asks, finally looking at me.
“How could they sit there all solemn and holier than thou? How could she say that she was my friend after everything she’s done? It’s insulting!” she fumes.
“You didn’t have to hit her,” I interject
“What?” she asks in disbelief.
“You didn’t have to hit her. I’m angry too. She was my doctor and she kept the truth from me. Dexter isn’t innocent in this but did I haul off and knock him out?”
“I can’t believe this,” she huffs.
“I can’t believe you, Lauren. Is that how you handle things?” I ask her honestly. I glance at her. She’s shifted her body towards me and is looking at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“You’re taking their side?”
“I’m not taking their side but you didn’t have to do that back there. You could have gotten arrested for assault.”
I don’t understand her. How can she not see that she was wrong?
“You’re taking their side,” she says angrily.
“No, I’m not. But look where that got us? Nowhere. We left without knowing anything more than when we did when we got there. And, now you just pissed off the two people that could give us a little guidance,”
“I wouldn’t trust anything either of them said, if their statements came notarized,” she says defensively. I shake my head. She doesn’t get it. I’ve never seen this side of her before. Well, I have, but I didn’t think it was one that shows up often. There’s an awkward silence in the car. She’s furious and I’m kind of annoyed.
“You know what Chris? Sometimes people don’t think, they just act. They feel and don’t think about the consequences. I’m sorry that I’m human and not a perfect stoic saint. You should try it sometimes,” she says bitterly.
