Mind Games (44 page)

‘David? I’m flattered.’

‘You should be.’ Sam paused. ‘He’s never really seen me as any different to himself or Judy. Even to Saul.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s natural with Dad. I
sometimes think he’s like a blind man – he sees right past the surface. And it’s not just a colour thing – he’s just the same with everyone.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Grace said softly, then thought about that some more. ‘I can’t say the same thing is true for me though. I can’t say that I
don’t see your brown skin’ – she kissed his chest – ‘or feel the different texture of your hair.’ She rubbed her cheek against him. ‘It’s all you,
Sam. I love the way you look – I would hate, more than I can say, being blind to any part of it.’ She smiled. ‘Anyway, we both know I’m nowhere close to being as fine a
person as David.’

‘Shit, woman,’ Sam said. ‘You mean you’re not a saint, after all?’

She chuckled into the dark and wriggled further down the bed. ‘Would a saint want to do this?’

They both stopped talking for quite a time, then slept for an hour or so, and it was daylight before they were ready to return to the subject that they both knew wasn’t
going to get forgotten.

‘I’m not about to insult your intelligence,’ Grace told Sam after they’d carried two cups of coffee back to her bed, ‘by making out that I don’t know
we’re going to encounter prejudice if we stay together any length of time.’ She shrugged. ‘I guess I’ve always been lucky that way till now.’

She shared her limited experiences with him. She had seen enough of the ugliness, of course, on the streets of both Miami and Chicago – she’d heard the ignorant
salt-and-pepper
jibes and much worse – but she’d never actually met racism in person. Grace had grown up with an Italian name inside a largely Italian community. She had dated
an African-American law student at university and she’d spent three months in the frequent company of a doctor from Hong Kong soon after graduation. No one had ever openly hassled either
Grace or the men, but she was prepared to accept that she had, probably, been fortunate in that.

‘That is Florida,’ Sam said, simply, when she’d finished. ‘No matter how we dress it up or how many laws get fixed, it’s still the South. You hang around with me
long enough, Grace, and you’ll get proof of that.’

‘It goes both ways,’ she pointed out.

‘But I’m bigger and uglier and tougher than you are,’ Sam said, ‘and I’ve had a hell of a lot more years to get used to it.’

‘I’ve always been good at learning.’

‘It could be a hard lesson, is all I’m saying.’

Grace switched angles. ‘How does Judy feel about me these days?’

‘Ma wants you to come to dinner one Friday night. She said she’ll even cook fish for my nice Catholic girlfriend.’

‘I’m lapsed, Sam,’ Grace reminded him.

‘Are you ever,’ he said.

‘I can’t believe this really might happen,’ Cathy said to Grace during her visit on Monday afternoon. ‘I can’t believe I might really be getting
out of here.’

Grace did her best to hide her dismay. ‘Who told you that?’

‘Mr Wagner,’ Cathy said.

‘He shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not?’ Fear flashed in Cathy’s eyes. ‘Isn’t it true?’

They were in the big visiting hall since Grace was there as Cathy’s friend today rather than her psychologist, surrounded on all sides, sitting on two hard plastic chairs talking across a
Formica-topped table. Grace hated it with a passion. All those women, separated from their loved ones by those damned tables and the vigilant guards – no real privacy, not a
chance
of the slightest, often clearly desperately yearned for, intimacy.

‘Grace’ – Cathy’s voice nudged her – ‘isn’t it true what Mr Wagner said?’

Grace took another moment to answer, painfully aware of the need to be cautious. ‘It’s true that there’s a chance, Cathy, but a lot could still go wrong.’

‘But there really is a chance?’

‘Yes, there is,’ Grace allowed. ‘I just don’t want you getting your hopes up in case it falls apart.’

‘Oh, Grace, you can be such a downer.’ The fear was gone again. ‘This is the first time anything’s gone
halfway
right for me in months – I know it could
all turn bad again, but right now I just don’t want to think about that. Can’t you understand that?’

‘Yes, of course I can.’ There was such optimism in Cathy’s expression, the last thing Grace wanted to do was take it away. ‘I have to say, you’re looking much
better.’

‘I guess that’s down to the doc,’ Cathy said warmly. ‘He stopped giving me tranks because we both figured they were bringing me down, and he’s been giving me
vitamins instead because he knows I hate the food in here.’

‘I’m glad you’re off tranquillizers.’ Not for the first time, Grace felt real gratitude and appreciation for Eric Parés.

‘And I think I’m getting better at doing those relaxation exercises he’s been teaching me,’ Cathy went on. ‘The doc says nothing feels quite so bad if you can get
right down
inside
yourself, take yourself away from the stuff that scares you.’

‘Sounds like he’s been teaching you meditation.’ Grace was impressed.

‘“
Meditation, not medication
” – that’s what the doc says, and that’s cool, because I don’t really like taking all that junk, not even the
vitamins.’ Cathy’s blue eyes, so dulled since she’d been in this place, were almost shining. ‘Lucille says I’m feeling better because I know there’s a chance I
could get out of here.’ Lucille Calder was another inmate, an older woman who’d lately taken Cathy under her wing. ‘I’m feeling so much
stronger
, you know?’
She hardly paused for breath. ‘I’ve never been able to sleep well in this dump, Grace, which was why I was so tired all the time, but suddenly I just seem to have all this energy and
hope—’

‘Are you sleeping better?’ Interrupting seemed the only way for Grace to get a word in, and she was conscious of time slipping past.

‘Not really, but I don’t seem to care so much. That’s the whole
point
, Grace. Nothing’s getting me down the way it was.’

‘I wasn’t entirely happy about the cloud she was on,’ Grace told Sam late that night, ‘but on the other hand, it was a hundred per cent better than the
way she has been feeling – and I
do
like the sound of Dr Parés’ relaxation therapy.’

They were lying naked in each other’s arms in her bed after making love, and Sam was gently stroking the inside of her left arm with his fingertips, letting Grace talk, knowing by now how
much those visits to the prison always got to her.

‘I’m glad Wagner didn’t tell her about wanting her to come stay here,’ Grace went on. ‘I’m so afraid of letting Cathy down.’

‘Have you been having second thoughts?’ Sam asked.

‘No, not at all. But the judge might decide I’m not a suitable guardian.’

‘Why would anyone do that?’

‘Who knows?’

Sam stopped stroking her arm.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

He took a moment. ‘Are you concerned about us?’

‘In what way?’

‘Are you concerned what the judge might make of the two of us?’

‘No.’ Grace paused. ‘I mean, I hadn’t even thought about it.’

‘Maybe you should.’

Grace sat up and switched on her bedside light. Sam’s face was turned away, towards the window. ‘Please look at me.’

He turned, slowly. His expression was deadpan.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Is this something we need to talk about?’

‘Only from the standpoint that I don’t want to be the one to wreck Cathy’s chances,’ Sam said. ‘Not when she’s come this far.’

‘You’re concerned about what? That the judge might be a racist?’

‘The judge doesn’t need to be a grade A racist or even white to be one of those people who isn’t happy about exposing young people to mixed-race situations.’ Sam
shrugged. ‘Any number of black judges might feel exactly the same way.’

‘But we don’t agree with that, do we?’ Grace said.

‘No, we don’t.’ Sam left the
but
unsaid.

‘And I thought we’d already dealt with the morals side of things.’ A few strands of hair were in her eyes and Grace pushed them back impatiently. ‘I mean, we’ve
agreed that we’d have to be more careful about sex if Cathy did come here – I guess that would be a fair point for a judge to be
concerned
about.’ She paused again,
looking straight at him. ‘Anything more than that, Sam, I don’t know about you, but I’d fight like hell.’

At last, Sam smiled.

‘That, I’d almost like to see.’

‘Grace came yesterday,’ Cathy told Dr Parés when he called in to see her after she’d finished her shift in the laundry.

‘How is the lady?’ he asked.

‘Pretty cool, the way she always is.’ Cathy smiled. ‘Almost always. She worries too much – she was upset this time in case I got my hopes up and things went
wrong.’

‘She’s quite right,’ the doctor agreed. ‘It’s wiser not to have unrealistic expectations, Cathy.’

‘I know,’ Cathy said, still smiling. ‘It’s better to stay calm.’

They were alone in a locked room with a table, two chairs and an old, battered vinyl couch, not far from the infirmary. Privacy was a concession that Parés had won since he’d
persuaded the governor that his relaxation therapies were likely to make the prison staffs lives easier all round. Lucille had been scathing about what she called ‘hocus-pocus’, but the
older woman had come around to some degree, glad that Cathy had been able to find some measure of inner peace without turning into a hophead.

‘Much better.’ Parés sat down in a chair close to Cathy’s, picked up his bag and set it on his knees. ‘I have more vitamins for you.’

‘Aren’t I taking enough? I don’t like taking too many pills.’

‘Just one more.’ The doctor opened the bag and took out a small white envelope. ‘Actually,’ he explained in his soft, attractively accented English, ‘these are
mineral supplements rather than vitamins – equally important to you as long as you’re starved of good food, fresh air and sunlight.’

‘I guess I can quit taking them once I’m out of here.’

‘Not right away,’ Parés told her. ‘Your body will need a few weeks to grow accustomed to the changes.’ He paused. ‘And you mustn’t expect everything to
go entirely smoothly just because you leave this place.’

‘You mean because they could still re-arrest me?’

‘Precisely.’ Parés paused. ‘You’ve learned many hard lessons, Cathy. You know by now how tough life can be. That’s true even out there, with all that
freedom.’

‘I know what freedom means to me,’ she said, softly.

‘Tell me.’

‘It means running, as far and as fast as I want to.’ Her eyes were hazy with longing. ‘It means stopping and buying a Dr Pepper or some Ben & Jerry’s when I feel like
it.’

‘That’s fine,’ the doctor said, ‘and it’s true, as far as it goes.’ His dark eyes grew more serious and for a second or two he stroked his small, neat beard.
‘But one of the lessons I hope to teach you is that it’s wise in life to learn to recognize one’s enemies—’

‘I don’t want to think about enemies,’ Cathy said. ‘I’d rather think I don’t have any.’

‘But you know better than that, don’t you? For instance, whoever put you inside this place is your enemy, don’t you agree?’

‘You mean the guy who killed my parents and the others.’ All the light-heartedness had left Cathy’s face.

‘You think it is a man? It could be a woman.’

‘Everyone seems to think it could be this Hayman guy.’ Cathy looked at the doctor. ‘Don’t you think it’s him?’

‘I’ve no way of knowing anything about that. I just want you to be aware that you need to stay on your guard, even if things go well and you do get out of here.’ Parés
opened the envelope in his hand and took out a pink pill. ‘Take this later, before you go sleep. All right, Cathy?’

She nodded. ‘Sure, doc.’

The doctor glanced at the couch.

‘Are we going to do some relaxation now?’ Cathy asked him.

‘I was thinking that you’ve become so adept at deep relaxation that I might start teaching you some simple self-hypnosis.’ Parés saw her forehead crease.
‘It’s really very simple and perfectly safe, and it will help you when you leave here.’ He paused. ‘Everything becomes so much easier, Cathy, once you learn how to control
your own body and mind.’

‘Okay,’ Cathy said.

‘Are you sure?’ Parés checked. ‘You know I never want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.’

‘I know that,’ Cathy said. ‘It’s cool. I trust you.’

‘I hope so,’ Parés said.

The first performance of the S-BOP production of
Il Trovatore
was on Wednesday night. Grace had seen Sam Tuesday evening, after the dress rehearsal, and it was the
very first time she’d seen the man spooked by anything that didn’t involve life or death. Yet on the big night itself, when she brought a single red rose to the dressing room he was
sharing with Manrico, the tenor lead, and Ferrando, the bass, Sam seemed startlingly calm.

‘This always happens to me just before we really get to do a show for a crowd the first time,’ he told her outside the room, speaking softly because the other two men were both
basket cases from nerves. ‘I’m not sure why it is – a lot of singers throw up around this point, but I just get kind of high.’

‘Because you love it so much?’ Grace suggested, crazy about the way he looked in his captain’s costume with all that dramatic make-up on his eyes.

‘The other guys love it too,’ he said. ‘I guess it might be different for me if it was what I actually
did
– I mean, for a living. But singing with S-BOP just
feels like a big fat treat for me. Sure I’m scared of letting them down, but mostly I just feel like I’m coming home for Christmas.’

Grace knew virtually nothing about opera, and less about baritones. She had never seen another production of
Il Trovatore
, and now that she knew the plot more or less
inside out, she realized that the story was every bit as idiotic as Sam had once warned her it was.