Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) (21 page)

“Oh,” Hannah declared and then
her wide smile returned. “It doesn’t matter. You are here now and that is all
that counts. Come here,” she insisted as she led Willow back to the couch where
Kate sat still looking very perplexed.

Sam held himself back from the
trio of females, ignoring the worried-looking glances Kate cast his way. Now
that Willow was beside her, Hannah’s world looked complete. Feeling both
infuriated and self-conscious, he silently signaled to Kate that it was time to
go.

As she was standing, Hannah
looked her way, “You’re leaving so soon?”

“We did just fly in from
Europe. It would be nice to actually go home,” Sam gritted through his teeth.

“Right,” Hannah muttered. “I’ll
be back in a few days. Give me a call.”

The fact that she had said that
to Kate and not him was all the ammunition he needed to walk away without a
second glance.

“Well, that was a complete
fucking waste of two decades,” Sam growled as he started the rental car.

“Sam…” Kate whispered
hesitantly.

“No,” he yelled in denial. “I’m
glad they fried her fucking brain. If anyone deserved it, it is Hannah.”

“She will remember,” Kate
insisted.

“I hope she doesn’t. You were
right from the beginning. We don’t need her in our life.”

Kate held her tongue. No, they
didn’t need Hannah in their life, but Sam needed her in his. He was hurt and
angry. How could such a promising beginning turn into not-so-marital bliss?
This was all Hannah’s fault. Damn that woman, she was still interfering even
though now she appeared to be utterly oblivious.

Getting Hannah released from
the clinic was only a matter of filling out the proper paperwork. Consent forms
and release statements—when all was said and done, Willow had scribbled her
signature at least two dozen times, although she wasn’t exactly sure what all
of it meant. Her mind was still numbed by the
she-thinks-we’re-sisters
cloud
and was only vaguely aware that she had agreed to accompany Hannah back home
and provide a safe and secure living environment.

Once they were finally free to
leave and Hannah had said her multiple, tear-filled goodbyes, Willow discovered
they had a slight problem. Mr. Moneybags, the man with a team of lawyers all
waiting to attend his every whim, had left a few hours ago. Willow had two
dollars in change in her pocket, one plane ticket back home, and a rental car
with enough gas to get them to airport and no further. Hannah had nothing. She
left wearing the same clothes she had worn when she arrived. All her other
personal belongings, including credit cards and driver license, were back home
in Austin. Not wanting to cause any undue stress, Willow sat behind the wheel
of her car and absentmindedly strummed her fingers against the dashboard, trying
to figure out their next move.

“It’s getting a little warm in
here. Could you start the car please?” Hannah asked sweetly.

“Oh sure,” Willow muttered.

After several moments, Hannah
spoke up again, “We’re not going anywhere. Is there a problem?”

“No, not a problem. I’m just
trying to figure out how we are going to get home,” Willow answered. “You don’t
have your ID. I know they would recognize you, but there are regulations, and I
don’t think they would let you board an airplane without it.”

“So, it’s a road trip,” Hannah
exclaimed. “How fun! I wish Zachary had been able to come along. We could have made
stops at a few interesting places he would have loved.”

“Yeah, it would have been a
blast,” Willow retorted cautiously. “The thing is—I forgot to bring any money
with me.”

Hannah started giggling. “You’re
such a silly girl. Always forgetting the important stuff. If I could borrow
your phone for a second, I can call someone to help?”

Willow surrendered her phone,
then sat and silently listened as Hannah spoke into the line in a calm and
efficient, yet overall pleasant, voice. Then they waited, but surprisingly for
only a few minutes, before a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up beside them. A
very polished, professional-looking man stepped out of the vehicle, and Hannah
unsnapped her seatbelt.

“We are going to switch out
vehicles. He can take this back to the airport, and we can drive the Escalade
home,” Hannah explained. Stepping out of the car, she turned back towards
Willow and asked, “Will ten be enough?”

“Ten dollars?” Willow
questioned warily.

Hannah flashed her a wide grin that
crinkled her nose ever so slightly. Looking back at the man, she said warmly as
she took the small leather pouch from his outstretched hand, “Thank you so
much. Could you please tell Chris that I’ll have his vehicle delivered in a few
days?”

“Ten thousand,” Hannah
explained as Willow started the SUV. “You know how cautious Chris is. He
believes in planning for emergencies.”

No, Hannah, I don’t because I
have no freaking idea who Chris is,
Willow thought to herself. He
didn’t sound all that cautious though. Seriously, who hands over their vehicle
and ten grand without a single question?

The first leg of the trip home
was rather uneventful. Hannah passed the time chirping incessantly about the
old days—those same
old days
that never really happened. With each
passing mile, Willow grew increasingly more concerned. Hannah wasn’t just a
little confused; she had created an entirely new existence. As much as she hated
to agree with anything Sam said or thought, inwardly she screamed,
You fried
her fucking brain!

The transformation was
astonishing, but Willow didn’t comprehend how complete it was until, in a
moment of frustration, while she stuck behind a slow-moving semi-truck and an
eighty-year-old Sunday
driver cruising in the passing lane, she
exclaimed, “Speed up or get off the fucking road!”

Willow felt Hannah staring at
her. When she looked over, she looked slightly appalled. “That was a little
harsh,” Hannah gently reprimanded.

“Sorry,” Willow muttered.

“When you use language like
that, people might form misconceptions about you,” Hannah explained softly.

This time it was Willow’s turn
to be flabbergasted. Had the woman that used to pop F-bombs like candy just
lectured her about profanity? “I’ll keep that in mind,” Willow retorted.

Perhaps, she had sounded too
harsh? Hannah didn’t look nearly as lively as she had a few moments ago.
Although not exactly confused, Hannah’s expression looked troubled, as if she
were trying to make sense of the woman sitting beside her and the woman she
knew her to be. Willow could sympathize. She felt exactly the same.

That evening they stopped at a
hotel just outside of El Paso. Exhausted by the events of the day and the long
hours driving, Willow thought that she would fall sound asleep as soon as her
head hit the pillow. Strangely, as soon as they opened door to the double-queen
bedroom, her senses went on full alert.

She had spent most of the day
believing that this was Hannah’s sick idea of a joke. The last few hours she had
secretly prayed it was all just a charade. Willow knew that Hannah would crack
as soon as she came within close vicinity to a bed, but she didn’t.

Instead, she continued with her
same innocent enthusiasm. “This will be so much fun! It will be just like our
old sleepovers.”

Mentally stretched to her
breaking point, Willow snapped, “We’re not real sisters. You know that, don’t
you?” She regretted saying it as soon as the words slipped out, but not because
Dr. Williams had told her she needed to be patient. It was the look on Hannah’s
face—beyond hurt—as if Willow had just sucker punched her in the gut and then
spit on her face when she was down.

At least one thing about Hannah
remained the same. Her emotions still simmered near the surface and flipped
with the ease of a switch.

Her voice was heavy with unshed
tears as she said, “I know we are not
biological
sisters. We were both
adopted, but I still remember the day mommy and daddy brought you home. It
never made a difference before. Why does it now?”

“It doesn’t,” Willow declared
as she sat down on the end of the bed and rubbed her throbbing temples. “I’m
sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Here, let me help,” Hannah
insisted as she sat down behind her and began to massage her scalp.

Willow’s body melted like
butter and began to instinctively respond to Hannah’s touch.
Oh God, it had
been so long! She had missed her so much!
Then, suddenly, Sam’s voice
screamed inside her mind, ‘
When Hannah comes to and remembers she had been
fucking her sister—that might not be traumatic?’

Shooting off the bed like a lit
stick of dynamite, Willow said lamely, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

Although she hadn’t planned on
an overnight stay and hadn’t brought along a change of clothes, the hot water
of the shower felt wonderful against her frayed nerves. Besides, if she stayed
quiet, Hannah wouldn’t be able to hear her tears. What started as a light
trickle soon grew into wracking sobs that stole her breath. How could she
possibly go along with this charade? She couldn’t even be close to Hannah
without her body responding. But how could she walk away? In Hannah’s mind,
they weren’t just ordinary sisters. They were sister-survivors sharing the dark
secrets of her past. How could she leave knowing she wouldn’t just devastate
Hannah but herself as well?

Early the next evening, they
were minutes away when Hannah announced, “We should stop by the store. I don’t
know what I have in the refrigerator or if any of it is still good.”

“Hannah, you have people that
take care of that for you,” Willow explained.

“I do?” Hannah questioned, sounding
surprised. “It doesn’t matter. With all these medications I’m taking, my tastes
have changed. We can just drop in for a few snacks, if you don’t mind?”

“It’s not a problem,” Willow
agreed. What trouble could they get into in a grocery store? Forty-five minutes
later, after Hannah had filled not one cart but two, Willow had her answer. She
didn’t even think about the tabloids until they got to the checkout lane and
Hannah came to an abrupt halt. Standing eerily motionless, Willow’s eyes
followed her probing stare, and there was Hannah’s likeness plastered all over
the covers.

After several tense seconds
when Willow started to panic, thinking this might just be the trigger to set
off another episode, Hannah said politely to the woman working the register, “I
would like to speak to your manager.”

The woman looked confused until
she recognized Hannah and became flustered. “Yes Miss Fairbanks. I’ll go get
him.”

Hannah remained silent until
the woman came back with the store manager in tow. He held out his hand to her
and said, “Miss Fairbanks, hello. I understand there is a problem?”

“No, not a problem per se, but
I do find some of the reading materials in the checkout lanes unsuitable and
inappropriate for families with young children,” she explained as she reached
for one particularly offensive cover. The cover photograph was recycled from a
jewelry campaign she had shot a few years ago. The diamond necklace was fabulous,
but the fact that it appeared she wasn’t wearing anything else—not so much. She
wasn’t too pleased with the headline either—
Beauty Goes Insane.
“I
understand you have a job to do, and part of your job is selling these kinds of
publications, but I would like to make a suggestion. Perhaps you place one of
those plastic, black shields over the photograph?”

“Yes, of course, Miss
Fairbanks. I’ll see to it right away,” the manager readily concurred.

“Thank you. I appreciate it
very much,” Hannah answered and then flashed him one of her million-dollar smiles.

Once they loaded the groceries
into the back of the SUV and were once again on their way to Hannah’s house,
Willow glanced over at Hannah. She looked calm but slightly subdued.

“Are you all right?” Willow
asked quietly.

“Is that what they have been
saying about me—that I went insane?” Hannah asked.

Willow wanted to lie, but she
knew she couldn’t keep Hannah from discovering the truth. “Some of them, yes.
Others were more ambiguous about the nature of your condition.”

Hannah nodded, seeming to take
it in, and then she turned and returned Willow’s gaze. Her intense stare was
penetrating. “Is that what you thought too?”

“I didn’t know what to think at
first,” Willow answered honestly. “Now, I understand that you were very ill.”

“I’m better now,” Hannah
promised.

“I know that,” Willow
whispered.

“Good.”

When they did finally arrive at
Hannah’s home, it was hard to tell who was more surprised—the staff or her.
Hannah greeted them all with warm affection, and they reciprocated by remaining
formal and distant. Clearly, it was not the homecoming either anticipated.   

Although Hannah claimed to be
better, Willow wanted to stay, for a few days at least, to help her adjust.
Hannah was so thrilled with the notion that the next morning she served Willow
breakfast in bed.