Into the Garden (25 page)

"I have the girls and I hope I have you," I said.
He looked toward the grave again.
"This is crazy, Cathy. I said what I said in there in front of them, but now that I see this, and
realize
what's happened, you can't go on with this. It really is illegal. I don't think any of you actually thought this out:'
"But you told them you'd help, Stuart?"
"Even if you all are somehow able to carry it off until you're eighteen, how are you going to explain this when you have to? You know, they'll dig her up and they'll do an investigation to see if she died naturally or whatever. If there is even the slightest suggestion or possibility she didn't, the four of you could become murder suspects?'
"Murder suspects! She just died, Stuart. She had a heart attack?'
"How do you know that? None of you has a medical degree, Cathy. Do you know how that's determined? I do. Remember, I told you I want to go into medicine. They have to do an autopsy and they examine the heart. They can tell if it's been damaged. What if it hasn't?"
"Why else would she have died?" I moaned. I wished we weren't having this conversation ten feet from Geraldine's grave. I could almost see her smiling beneath the ground.
"There are lots of causes of death." He thought a moment and then he turned to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "Cathy, what if she was depressed about all this and she took her own life? What if she swallowed some pills or something? Don't you see? Someone might think you put the pills in her food and then you and your girlfriends, all troubled and disturbed so much they had to have therapy, buried her to hide what you did."
I shook my head.
"No, no that's not what happened. I couldn't have done something like that," I cried.
"But I bet you've wished it, haven't you?"
"Maybe," I admitted.
"So someone who doesn't know you obviously could think it." He stepped back. "No," he said. "Now that I've seen this and thought about it, I realize you have to go in there and call the police and tell them what you did."
"No, Smart," I said, the tears streaming out of my eyes and zigzagging down my cheeks to my chin. "I couldn't do that. They're my friends, my best friends. I can't betray them. We're all in this together."
"Yeah, I know. The OWP's. You're not children anymore you know. The next thing you'll all tell me is you have a clubhouse."
I looked up sharply.
"Oh, this house is your clubhouse?"
"Yes, in a way," I said softly.
"Cathy, this is all insane. You're going to be in big trouble."
I shook my head.
"You promised them, Stuart. You said you would help."
"I know. I know, but the reality is you can't keep this up for months and months. Something's going to happen. Your father will eventually figure out something's not right. Don't you see? You've got to call them back and get them to go to the police, and if they won't, you've got to do it yourself. That's your sister in the ground there!"
I shook my head vigorously.
"No, that would be a horrible betrayal."
"What's more important?" he asked. "Loyalty to them or doing the right thing?"
"Loyalty to them," I said firmly, and stepped back, out of his reach.
"It's not going to work," he insisted. He looked back at the grave and shook his head.
"You promised," I said through my tears. "I talked them into trusting you," I moaned. "I thought you really cared about me, wanted to be with me."
"I do," he said. "That's why I'm telling you all this." He stared at the ground. "Let me think Oaths, clubs, OWP's, Jesus."
I felt a wave of anger and hardness come over me.
"Don't think about it anymore. You can go home now, Stuart," I said, grinding back my tears with my closed hand. I wiped my cheeks and straightened up on my crutches. "Just forget everything we've told you and go home. You don't have to help us, help me, and get yourself into trouble, too."
"I didn't say I wouldn't help you," he muttered. "I'm trying to help you now. Think of yourself."
"I'm going back inside," I said, and turned away from him. As quickly as I could, I went through the house and into the living room where I sat in what had always been Geraldine's chair. A few moments later he appeared in the doorway, his shoulders slouched, his eyes directed down.
"I really do want to help you, Cathy, and I don't want to leave you. I like you a lot, but I've got to think about my mother and what this would do to her on top of everything she's suffered. There's my little brother to think about, too."
"Go home to your mother and your little brother, Stuart."
He raised his head.
"I mean, I'm willing to stay with you, to drive you to the police if you want."
I forced a smile.
"Thank you, Stuart. If I decide to do that, I'll call you," I said.
"Cathy, you're just not thinking of the consequences," he insisted.
"Really? What are the consequences, Stuart? Are they worse than the consequences I've suffered merely by being born into this nightmare? Jade told you to use your imagination, but no matter how good your imagination is, you can't even begin to understand. Despite my father, these past days have been the first days when I felt, I believed, I could be someone with her own identity, some- one who could love and be loved. My disturbed friends, as you called them, helped me to do that and never once really thought about what risks they were taking. We really are special. You can laugh and make fun of us as much as you like, but we're the OWP's," I said.
"Cathy ..."
"It's all right, Stuart. I really do understand what you're going through. I know now that it would be unfair to ask you to do anything like this. I'm not upset with you. You do have responsibilities to your mother and brother."
He looked relieved.
"I mean, I'll be happy to stay with you and if you want to do what I said, help you to do it. Until then, I swear," he said, raising his hand as if he were in court, "I won't talk about any of this. If something happens later on, I'll say I didn't really believe it or something, but if I'm part of the impersonation effort and the cover-up, that becomes impossible." "I understand," I said. "I really do."
He stared a moment.
"We could still go to the movies," he said. "If you'd like."
"That's okay. I think I'd better just rest."
"And think over what I told you," he added, nodding. "I hope you'll come to your senses and convince the others to do the same. Then call me and I'll come running over here, Cathy. I will. That's a promise," he swore, raising his right hand.
I don't think there was a word I hated more.
"Thank you, Stuart," I said nevertheless.
He came to me, kissed me on the forehead as if kissing me on the lips would somehow put an evil, spell on him, and then he turned and walked out. I heard the door open and close. The silence that followed roared in my ears.
Misty had been so right, I thought. I had grasped the first chance at love. I wanted something that wasn't there so much I refused to heed the warnings. Desperately, I needed to prove to myself that I was capable of loving someone despite what my father had done, and that desperation and my inexperience had blinded me to reality. I felt as terrible about what I had done to my girlfriends as I felt about what I had done to myself. I dreaded the phone call I was going to have to make to them.
Saddened, I went upstairs and entered our special room. I sat on our rug and lit the candle. Then I closed my eyes. Was Stuart right? Should we tell the police what we had done? Could we get into such deep trouble that everyone would suffer just to help me? I had wanted my freedom and my friends and a normal life so much, I was willing to do almost anything, believe in almost anything, and try almost anything. How I wished I had someone older and wiser to talk to, someone who would listen. I was greatly tempted to call Doctor Marlowe, but to do anything without all the girls agreeing seemed to be even a greater wrong.
The room wasn't working for me. It was no good without the others, without their spirits and energy combining with mine. I blew out the candle and started out of the room, even more despondent than when I had entered. Suddenly the phone rang. Maybe the room does work, I thought. It had to be Jade, Star, or Misty. They had felt my trouble. I had reached one of them with my cry and now one of them was calling. Hopefully, it was Jade. She would be the most sensible now, I thought.
"Hello," I said anxiously as soon as I lifted the receiver.
"You're lying," he said. "I've called every hospital in Los Angeles and she's not registered at any of them. Where is she?" my father demanded.
I tried to speak, but my throat felt as if it had closed up. "Did she tell you to give me that cock n'bull story?" he demanded.
"It's not a lie," I finally managed. "You didn't call the right hospital and I told you she didn't want you to call or see her. I'm going to get her later today. She's being released," I said. "I'll tell her you called and called, and I'll tell her you broke into our house. I'll tell her how you've been following me and spying on me. tell her everything today. Leave us alone!" I screamed at him.
I slammed the receiver down so hard, the cradle nearly shattered. For a few moments I just stood there gazing at it, my heart pounding as I gasped for breath. Then I sank slowly to the floor, and sobbing, called Jade.
She answered with a laugh.
"Shut up," I heard her tell someone. "You're such an idiot. Hello," she said, and laughed again before I spoke. "Jade."
"Cat? What's up now?" she asked with a groan. "I'm sorry," I said through my sobs.
"I can't understand you. What's wrong? Why are you crying? Cat?"
"I'm sorry, Jade. I made a mistake. Stuart.. .doesn't want to get involved. He left," I said.
"Oh, great. I had a feeling this would happen. We shouldn't have listened to you. Damn."
"I'm sorry, but I do believe him when he says he won't tell anyone."
"Sure. Boys are such creeps."
"We have another problem," I said. "My father just called and demanded to speak to Geraldine again. He said he called every hospital in Los Angeles. I told him I was picking her up today and slammed the phone down."
"Brother," she said.
"I'm sorry. What should I do?"
"Nothing. You'll have to drive, it's a good thing you didn't break your
right
ankle. I'll send Misty over later just as we planned, so under the cover of darkness you can do exactly what we planned and hopefully that will throw him off. It's Cat," I heard her say. "Stuart's not driving you."
"Misty 's there?"
"Yes, she's here with Chris. He and David are waiting for us at the pool. We're all going swimming She'll have to figure out her own excuse to get rid of him for a while. Do you think your father's out there now?"
"I don't know. I'm scared," I said. "Stuart thinks we could be arrested on suspicion of murder. I don't want to get you all in trouble. I came up to our room. I'm here now, but it's not working for me."
"What? You're in the room?"
"It's not working."
"Cat, take it easy. You're getting hysterical."
"I lit the candle. I tried to meditate and calm down and..."
"All right. All right. I'll send Misty over now to be with you. She'll be there as soon as she can."
I heard her groan in the background.
"She's going to hate me. I know she wants to be with Chris."
"It'll be all right. I'll talk to her. She'll do what she said," Jade added, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "She'll come in through the back. Unlock the door and just wait for her. And Cat, try to stay calm. That's the most important thing now."
"I'm sorry. It's all my fault."
"Let's not do that," Jade nearly yelled. "Let's not start blaming ourselves. They're always trying to pass the blame onto us somehow. Just wait there, calmly. Damn them," she said.
I wasn't sure who the them was at this point, but I was afraid to utter another sound.
"Okay," I said in a small voice, and hung up the phone.
Trembling so badly, I clung to my crutches as I made my way out of the room. I didn't know where to go. Suddenly, going downstairs and being alone seemed terrifying. I went into my bedroom instead and closed the door. It was where I went and what I did all my life when I was afraid. I would crawl onto my bed and pull my legs in and hold myself and-close my eyes and wait for the waves and waves of anxiety and trepidation to go away. Sometimes they did immediately and sometimes it seemed to take hours, I would fall asleep and wake and still be trembling.
Geraldine never came to check on me, even when I was very little. It got so whenever my father did come to see if I was all right I welcomed his hands.
"There, there,"
he would say,
"let's get our little girl to feel good again."

All my unheard, unvoiced screams were trapped in this room. I imagined them bubbling under the surface. The walls had absorbed them like a sponge. They could, at any sudden moment, explode in a cry so powerful, the whole house would go up in a cloud of dust. Some wind would come along and blow it all away so that it would be as if it had never existed, me and my sister and father along with it. The world would be so much better off, I thought.

I tried to close my ears as well as my eyes because sounds were rising up through the floors. I could swear I heard the vacuum going. Geraldine was there, cleaning, hating the dirt and dust, mumbling to herself about something she had read or seen that confirmed her dark, dreary view of people. Maybe I shouldn't have hated her so much. She had been betrayed too, I thought. Now I could understand why she was so hardened and bitter. Whom could she believe in?

Was that the sound of water running? Was she washing a floor, rinsing a table, doing windows? And that now, was it the droning of the television set, locked on one of her electronic preachers, confirming her dismal visions? Did I hear footsteps on the stairs? I tightened my eyelids and squeezed my body. She was whispering through the door.

"I told you. Now you see that you reap what you sow. You slept with him. You let him touch you. You're dirty deep down into your very soul. You can't scrub it out no matter how long you soak in a tub or shower or rub. Anyone can look at you and see. Sin is in your eyes. You let him touch you."

Whom did she mean, Stuart or my father? The whispering became unintelligible. It was just the constant sound of air flowing through her dried lips. I put all my strength of concentration on the image of a single candle flame and watched it flicker and flicker until it drifted into the tiny spiral of smoke and was gone.
A loud rapping sound snapped open my eyes. I listened, my heart thumping. Had all I had imagined been true? There was a tinkle at the window and then a thump on the wall. I rose, puzzled and terrified, but I made my way to the window and gazed out. Misty was below. I opened the window quickly.
"What are you doing? You didn't leave the back door unlocked."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I fell asleep."
"Hurry up. It looks like it's going to rain," she ordered, and went around to the back of the house.
I moved as quickly as I could and made my way down the stairs, through the house and to the door. She burst in, closing it quickly behind her.
"What happened? Don't you remember our plan?" "Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how long I had been asleep."
"Jade told me what you said. I knew we shouldn't have trusted him Did you break up?"
"I guess," I said. "I don't expect him to come back."
"You're better off," she said. "I'm never going to fully trust any man, even the man I marry, if I marry. What good are promises and vows, even with a priest holding his hand over you both? I feel sorry for Ariel. My father will probably break her heart, too.
"Did he call again?" she suddenly asked.
"You mean my father?" She nodded. "No."
"Well, let's get started. I promised Chris I'd meet him at seven-thirty. One good thing about Chris is he never asks many questions. Where's the dress?"
"Upstairs where you left it," I said.
She hurried ahead. After she put it on and fixed her hair the way I had described Geraldine's, we got into the car. She sat on the floor in the back.
"Are you sure you can drive?"
"Yes," I said, even though I wasn't. I couldn't stop the trembling inside me. When I took hold of the steering wheel, it helped, but my breathing was so rapid and short, I was afraid I would make some terrible error and have an accident. Then what would we do? How would we explain anything?
"Go, go, go," Misty urged. "I'm not exactly comfortable down here."
"Okay."
I started the engine, opened the garage door.
"Oh, no," I said. "It's raining hard."
"That's good. It'll be more difficult for him to see us," she said.
Right, I thought, but it's harder to drive, too. I headed out slowly. As I left the driveway, / glanced around quickly, searching for signs of my father. A car more than halfway down the block did look like his.
"I think he's there. I think he's going to follow us."
"Try to lose him if he does," Misty coached from the back.
I watched the rearview mirror. Raindrops made the window look like shattered glass.
"It's hard to see in this. I can't tell if that car is his." "Forget about him, Cat. Just drive to the hospital."
"What hospital? We never decided!" I cried in a panic.
"Take it easy," she said. She gave me directions to Saint John's and we drove on.
During the whole trip, I never knew if he was right behind us or not. I made so many turns and took a number of side streets. We drove to the hospital, parked, and waited for as long as we thought it would take to get Geraldine checked out. I watched for any signs of him, but saw none. After what we thought was a sufficient time, we drove away with Misty in the front seat.
The rain fell in periodic torrents and then slowed to a drizzle. It was like that in Los Angeles. It could be raining hard ten blocks away and almost not raining where I was. When we arrived at the house, I closed the garage door behind us before either of us got out. Then we went to the living room and Misty took Geraldine's chair. I had her back to the window and opened the shutter just enough for someone to see her silhouette.
"I'll pretend to get you some tea," I said.
"Don't pretend. I could use a cup of something hot." After I brought it to her, she sipped it and smiled. "So? How do I look?"
"I don't know. I guess from across the street you look like her."
"I'll sit here another twenty minutes and then I'll walk out and leave through the back. Of course, I'll change first," she added with a laugh. "It's creepy, but if it works, he'll keep his distance."
"We hope," I said.
"Don't worry about Stuart. You'll have a new boyfriend in a week. I've got some ideas already. Jade wants us to have a meeting about all this tomorrow night," she added.
"Okay," I said, "but don't worry about getting me a boyfriend."
I gazed through the shutters at the street, Maybe he wasn't there. Maybe all of this was for nothing. I suppose we'll know soon enough, I thought.
"I'm going to heat up some soup," I said. "Be right back."
"It's all right. I'm fine," she told me.
At the doorway I gazed back at her. She was sipping her tea and gazing through the shutters. From where I stood, she did look like Geraldine. How many times had I seen her in that chair sipping tea and gazing out at the street? What went through her mind? What did she see? Did she envision a way out or did she imagine walls keeping her forever imprisoned in her terrible disappointments?
I could actually still see her, hear her, even smell her.
People don't die, I thought, until the memory of them is gone. How foolish I was to think that we could roll her into the ground, cover her up, and be free of her.
Geraldine and I would be joined forever and ever. We shared the same silences and heard similar voices. I was with her even now in our mutual garden of sorrow.