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“Hi, Lindie,” I said, trying to remain calm. It was okay. If anything went wrong, there were people here to help. “Dr. Livingston called me over the weekend. Told me what happened.”
Lindie snorted and stomped into the living room. I moved out of her way, sensing being in her path was a dangerous place to be. “So the dutiful daughter came to visit.” She waved her hand. “You can leave now.”
Lindie wore jeans and a cashmere sweater. She shoved up her sleeves in irritation, giving me a good view of the wrap around her wrist. It wasn’t in a cast, so it really wasn’t that bad, right?
“I only want to make sure you’re okay. Dr. Livingston seemed to think you wanted to see me. She asked me to come visit.”
“That doctor bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” Lindie glared at the door, probably wishing I was there, leaving.
“Lindie.” I sighed, not knowing what to do or say. I never seemed to say the right thing to her. Maybe coming really had been a bad idea. Should I just leave? Put us both out of our misery?
We remained silent for a long time. Was this what conversation between us was going to remain as? Silence so quiet that I felt numbed by it.
Lindie jumped to her feet and stomped to the bathroom, not looking back at me or saying anything. I stared at the door, wondering what was going through her mind. Life would have been so much easier if I had been able to anticipate Lindie’s thoughts better.
A screeching howl cracked through the air.
Lindie.
My heart pounded a mile a minute as I jumped to my feet and rushed to the door. “Lindie?” I called as I knocked. I pressed my ear to the door, able to hear her making noise on the other side. It sounded like she was trying to hold in her cries.
My heart twisted as I reached for the door, too afraid to open it. This was too much like the night my father left. What had happened afterward? Would I find the same scene now?
Blood. Everywhere. Soaking into the linoleum floor. Lindie leaning over the tub, her eyes closed, her chest not moving.
Old traumas nearly forgotten rose as I pushed open the door, almost glad she had left it unlocked but at the same time terrified that she did.
Lindie was in a heap in the bathroom. For a moment, the image of her overlapped with my memories and just like when I was ten, I froze. Slowly, pieces of the scene came into focus. Lindie curled up on the floor, her head turned to the side, her bobbed dark hair hiding my view of her face. Scrunched up tissues littering the floor.
“Lindie,” I said carefully.
Her head snapped up and narrowed on me. The little bit of makeup she had been wearing was smudged all over. Hateful, nearly black eyes accused me as she glared hard. “You. You, you, you! It’s all your fault! He left me because of you. Because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” By the end of her rant, she was wailing, gripping a picture tightly in her fist. She curled into herself and banged her head against the tiled wall.
I was rooted in the doorway, hopeless as I stared down at Lindie in one of her breakdowns.
“Why?” she cried. “Why did he have to leave me? Why did you have to tell him?”
“Lindie,” I croaked, my heart heavy. “Please, get off the floor.”
“No!” She banged her head against the floor hard.
I ran over to her, kneeling down. “Please, let’s get cleaned up and you can take your medication. You’ll feel better.”
“Why?” Lindie shoved me away from her. “Why did you have to tell him?” Her eyes were wild, her forehead red. My heart thumped hard against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She scoffed. “Sorry? You’re never sorry! You opened your mouth, spewed shit, and chased him away. He left me because of you!”
Once again, I felt like that little girl crying as her mom screamed and begged for her father to stay. Lindie had a way of reverting me back into that weak little girl who couldn’t do shit. I kneeled by her, unable to say anything because she was right.
Dad left because I opened my stupid mouth. I told him about the man who came to visit when he was at work. I didn’t understand the repercussions at ten years old. Lindie had been one of those lonely housewives, and that man made her happy and helped her deal with that loneliness, even if what she had been doing was wrong.
“Lindie, I’m so sorry. Please believe me when I say I’m sorry. He left me too, and I never stopped thinking about that day.” Sometimes I wrote questions I had for him, like why did he leave me behind? Why didn’t he want me? What did I do wrong? Would it have been better if I never told him?
“Shut up! You’re a liar. You have always been a liar.” Lindie shoved me away and staggered to her feet. She grabbed a cup and tried to take a drink, but she was shaking too much and dropped the glass. It shattered against the floor.
“Lindie, don’t move.”
