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Carine’s cheek spasmed as the strap cracked against itself.
Such a reaction typically would have made Heidi curious enough to probe and learn about Carine’s ingrained reactions to belts and other lashing things. At the moment, however, Heidi’s curiosity only extended as far as how long it might take for acetaminophen to chip away at her Mount St. Headache.
Some other time, maybe.
She hung the belt in the queue with all the others and unfastened her pants. She was itching to get out of the clothing of “interesting times” and back into her own skin.
“I feel bad for them,” Carine said.
“Who? Kevin and Kalimah? They’ll be fine. Kevin’s got rich parents who live in glass houses.”
“No, not them. I know they’ll be fine. I meant Eunice and her friend.”
“Oh. Why’s that?” Heidi pinched the cuffs of her slacks together to align the creases and then draped the pants over the padded hanger bar.
When no response seemed imminent from Carine, Heidi turned to her as she worked the spiral pins out of her hair bun.
Carine’s face was pink, her lips pressed tightly together, and her expressive eyes wide. She looked like she’d never seen a woman take her clothes off.
Heidi huffed softly and reached around her back as she departed the closet. The bra wasn’t going to remove itself. “Why, Carine?”
“Um… I…”
Heidi had made her way to the dresser to stash the bra and locate lesser-offending pajamas when Carine turned out the closet light.
Heidi turned on the dresser lamp.
Carine tilted her gaze heavenward. “What your grandmother said about having done what was expected of her, and now she can’t even make up for the lost time. The people at the senior residences dictate what she can do in private.”
There was a pervading tragedy in the truth that Heidi hadn’t wanted to fully explicate. Part of her was like her mother, not wanting to believe her grandmother’s words. If they were true, she’d endured needless misery for decades. Every day when she got up and went into the common room for breakfast, she probably sat next to Fran and remembered things that had been a cause of constant upset.
Heidi drew a deep breath, forced her shoulders down from her ears, and exhaled. She found a long, soft T-shirt in the pajama drawer and wriggled into it. “I sometimes think about springing her out of there,” she admitted. “But she’s not like a baby. She’s not like Naomi. I can’t steal her away to my office at the factory and occupy her with colorful play mats and soft blocks. She needs to be coddled for her health and safety but stimulated like the generally rational adult she is.”
“Spring them both out,” Carine said. “Her and Fran. They could have their own space. Hire someone to swing by and check on them if you think they need it.”
To Carine, the suggestion may have been experimental brainstorming talk to placate Heidi and lift her mood, but a little voice at the back of Heidi’s mind asked, “Well, why not?” Having a part-time home health aide visit periodically would probably be less expensive than what the Murrays were shelling out to the senior living community.
Heidi tucked the scheme into thePonder Laterpart of her aching brain and turned to Carine. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“No. I’m a night owl. You should know that. I’m usually one of the last ones out of Clay’s.”
“I suppose you are.”
“If you’re telling me to go home, I can go home. You can speak plainly. I’m a big girl.”
“If you felt like I was shooing you out, I apologize.” Heidi pushed the pajama drawer closed with her heel and retreated to the bathroom to deal with the alcoholic punch aftertaste on her tongue. She should have skipped straight to the hard stuff. “Folks tend to want to rapidly depart after having to witness other people’s families wallow in the stink of their own drama.”
Carine followed her to the door and watched her squeeze paste onto her toothbrush. “Second-hand embarrassment, you mean? No, I didn’t catch any of that.”
“What did you catch, then?”
Carine shrugged in Heidi’s periphery. “Just a lot of things to think about, like what Eunice said. Sixty-five years. I mean, wow. It took her sixty-five years to get back around to where she started, and I guess I don’t want to be in the same place. I don’t want to do what I’m so-called supposed to do. I don’t want to spend a lifetime wondering if I chose to settle for a convenient error over something that might make me smile every day.”
Heidi rinsed and spit. “So, what does that mean? You’re quitting your job tomorrow?”
“Maybe not tomorrow. Eventually, though. Probably sooner rather than later. But I wasn’t really thinking about work. I try to forget work the moment Shora vanishes from my rearview mirror.”
“If not work, then what?”
