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I was tired of Papa, too.
If Papa came to me again, I wasn’t conscious. The next time I woke up it seemed weeks later. But I was now as I had been as a child; I had no sense of time, so how could I know? Again I was in the bed. My room was empty but for me. The house was so quiet; it felt so huge and empty all around me. I lay there paralyzed and tried to think of what I could do to escape while Vera was occupied elsewhere.
The door opened and Arden and Vera came in together. She was talking to him in an irritated tone. “Arden, sometimes you are more of a boy than a man. There must be some legal way we can force Damian to leave you his money when he dies. Certainly he must realize Audrina can’t outlive him and wouldn’t benefit from his millions.”
“But Sylvia will always need care, Vera. I don’t blame Damian for looking out for her. If, or when, Audrina should die, he’s having it drawn into his will that if Sylvia is put in an institution, or dies, my share that would come from Audrina’s will be cut off. He’s putting it in a trust fund so it will be doled out monthly. I don’t care if he leaves me anything. I can always earn enough to keep us fed, clothed and housed.”
“Fed, clothed and housed? Is that all you want out of life? There’s a world of glamour and pleasure beyond the walls of this museum. Go after it. If you don’t, I will. Arden, look at me. I’m twenty-five, one year younger than you are. Life moves so swiftly. Soon we’ll both be thirty. It’s now or never. What good does lots of money do when you’re too old to enjoy it? What good are beautiful clothes and expensive jewelry when your figure is gone and your neck is wrinkled? I want it now, Arden, now! While I’m still pretty enough to feel good about myself. Decide, Arden. Decide what you want. Do something positive for once in your lifetime. You’ve allowed guilt to rule you because you failed that day in the woods … and in a way you failed again when you were stupid enough to marry Audrina. Say it now, that you take me and not her. I want out of this miserable situation—today!”
Appearing torn by indecision, Arden glanced at me, at Vera, then stared at Sylvia, who shambled into the room. She meandered over to my bed and tried with clumsy hands to brush my hair even as she tried to say my name. But Vera was there, and she couldn’t even make her hands stop trembling. Appearing deeply troubled and frustrated, she slowly turned around and spread her arms wide as if to protect me.
“Whenever she can, Sylvia sneaks up on me and jumps me. She clamps her teeth into any part of my body she can grab hold of. I hit her, kick her, stomp on her toes and pull her hair to make her stop, but she hangs on like a bulldog! She’s crazy.”
On and on Arden stared at her without speaking. Then he turned his eyes on me lying like a stick of wood, my eyes half open, my lips slack. The IV dripped its solution into my veins, and my hair lay in limp, dull strings on the pillow. I knew I couldn’t appeal to him now.
“Yes,” he said heavily as the mists began to form around him and Vera, “I guess you’re right. Audrina would want to die rather than live on as she is now. She’s so young to have suffered so much. Isn’t it a terrible pity that I’ve never been able to help her, when all I ever wanted to do was save her from more suffering. Oh, God, if only I could have done differently, then maybe none of this would have happened.”
His head bowed. The last I saw of him this time he was kneeling by my bed, his hand clutching mine, and on our clasped hands he rested his cheek that was wet with his tears.
And just barely, before I floated to that nowhere they called sleep, I felt the warmth of his face, the wetness of his tears. I tried to speak, to tell him I wasn’t going to die, but my tongue stayed frozen and all I could do was drift away.
Last Rites
On what I was to find out later was a clear summer day it came to me as in a dream that my death was at hand.
The purposeful way Vera strode into my room that morning told me so much. She came to my bed and stared down into my face. I kept my eyes almost closed, knowing my lashes would give me the appearance of being asleep. Her cold hand touched my forehead to feel its warmth.
“Cool,” she said, “but not cool enough. Are you recovering, Audrina? Your skin looks better today—why, you almost look half alive. I do believe you’ve put on some weight. Though I’m sure Arden won’t notice that.” She giggled. “He seldom sees anything but your face, even when he sneaks in here to move your arms and legs. Papa does that, too, and his eyes are always so full of tears he can’t see anything, either. The two of them are so burdened down with guilt it’s a wonder they can still get up in the mornings and go to work.”
She glanced at Sylvia, who’d taken to sleeping on the floor near my bed. “Get away from there, idiot!” She made some movement that I took to be a kick. Sylvia squealed in pain, then jumped up and staggered over to her favorite dim corner. There she crouched down to keep a suspicious eye on Vera.
“Last bath time,” sang out Vera. “Wouldn’t want the coroner to think I neglected you. ‘Gonna wash that man right out of your hair,’” she sang gaily, “gonna paint that face and make you look pret
ty … but not so pretty he’ll cry too long.”
Like a musical farce she was making my death, as she came toward me bearing a basin of warm water and several towels. Quickly she disconnected the IV and eased me around so my head dangled off the side of the bed into the basin of water. She used several pitchers of warm water to rinse off the lather. Next I was moved back onto the bed, bathed, and over my head she tugged one of my prettiest nightgowns. She seemed to notice some difference in the flexibility of my body. She looked disturbed, hesitated, then shook her head and began brushing and arranging my dried hair.
Several times she used her thumb and forefinger to spread my lids and peer into my eyes. “Did I just see you move? Audrina, I could swear I saw you move. You winced, too, when I pulled your hair. Are you only pretending to still be in your coma? Well, I don’t give a damn. Keep the game up and pretend long enough and in your grave you’ll find yourself. Already you’ve pretended too long, Audrina. You’re so weak now you can’t do a thing to help yourself. Too weak to walk, too weak to talk, and Papa and Arden have gone away on a daylong conference in Richmond. They won’t be home until late. Soon I’ll be rushing off to the beauty parlor in Arden’s car, and our new maid named Nola will be instructed to look out for you.”
Every sense I had quickened, became sharper.
My survival instincts came alive as I quivered with apprehension, wondering how she planned to kill me and what I could do to save myself.
Seconds later Vera used my dressing room to apply my makeup to her face. I caught the whiff of my own French perfume, smelled my own dusting powder. Then I heard her fumbling around in my closet. Finding what she wanted, she came into view wearing my best summer suit.
“It’s August, Audrina. August in Paris, what a honeymoon that’s going to be. Before this month is over Arden Lowe will belong to me … and he’s got enough evidence on Papa to have him locked away in jail. He doesn’t want to use it, for dear Papa has reformed and no longer cheats and embezzles. Your noble Arden made him quit. I don’t really want Papa in jail anyway. I want him where I can put my hands on him and make him pay, and pay, and pay. And when I have all his money, into an old folks home goes dear Papa, and dear little Sylvia will get her just rewards, too. I think it’s very romantic for you to die in the summer. On your grave we can lay all the roses you love. Remember that first box of Valentine candy Arden sent you? And I ate every piece? I hated you for attracting him even then, when I was more his age. You’ve been unconscious three months … do you know that? I pray you can hear. According to your husband, you and he finally ‘found each other’ just before your fall down the stairs. Really, Audrina, you do know all the right ways to mess up your life. Too many people fall in this house. Someone should have Sylvia locked up before somebody else takes a tumble. You shielded a killer, Audrina. But you won’t have to worry about anything after today. I’m driving to the village, making a big show of myself. While I’m gone … the job will be done. I’ll come home to find you dead.” She laughed and then turned to look hard at Sylvia.
The clickity-clack of her high heels on the floor sounded ominous as she went out the door.
I was alone now, except for Sylvia.
I tried to speak, to call, and though I made some gurgling, throaty noises, nothing coherent came out. Sylvia, I willed, come to me. Do something to help me. Don’t let me be here when Vera comes back. Please, Sylvia, please …
In her corner Sylvia played with several prisms, using them to send separate light rays that crossed. Looking up every once in a while, she vacantly stared my way. I had to find my voice. Desperate need gave me the strength to speak. “Sylvia … help me …” It came out as little more than a moan, but Sylvia heard and understood.
Sluggishly she rose to her feet. Excruciatingly slowly she wandered not to my bed but to the dressing table, which was not reflected in the mirror over the dresser. But I could hear her fiddling around with the pretty jars and bottles. She squished the perfume atomizer, wafting to me the scent of jasmine.
Sylvia, I moaned again. Help me. Take me away. Hide me. Please, please … Sylvia … help Audrina.
