Chapter 35
“
I
t’s good to see you,” Mike said. All Monica’s fears about seeing him again evaporated the minute he opened the door.
“You too,” Monica said.
“If you’re looking for Lacey—”
“I’m not.” Monica moved in on Mike before she could change or mind or clue him in on what she was about to do. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, pulled him close, and kissed him. His arms circled her waist and he kissed her back. It was a long time before Monica pulled away.
“We have a workshop coming up,” Monica said. “And we’d love it if you come.”
“We?” Mike asked.
“I’ll explain everything,” Monica said. “But first there’s something I’m dying to do. And I know it’s going to sound a little strange—”
“Try me,” Mike said. Monica talked. Mike listened to every word. Then, a smile came over him.
“Well,” he said. “There’s no dining room here, but there’s always the kitchen counter.” He grinned again and held out his hand. Monica took it, and he led the way.
Lacey and Alan were lying in bed, relaxed and happy after a long-overdue lovemaking session.
“This Saturday?” Alan said. “We have a big site meeting—”
“Cancel it,” Lacey said. “Please?”
“What are you two up to?” Alan asked. Lacey straddled him, kissed his neck.
“No more questions,” she said. “Just come.”
“Okay,” Alan said pulling her into him. “Anything for you.”
“Good morning,” Monica said. “Welcome.” The room was packed. Monica made sure not to look at anyone in the front row, the one usually reserved for friends and family. “My name is Monica Bowman,” she continued. “And I am not the architect of my soul.” A few people clapped, some because they misunderstood, others because they were terminally polite. “I hate this job,” Monica continued. She held up her book. “Every time I quote from this bullshit, I want to gag.” A few people laughed nervously, the others waited to get the joke. “The idea to write the book wasn’t mine. It was my ex-boyfriend’s. He should be up here telling you how to Construct a Blueprint, Build a Foundation, and How and When to Remodel. Those aren’t my words, and I certainly don’t practice what I’ve been preaching.” Monica caught her new assistants, the ones assigned to her by Help Yourself! Inc., whispering in the back of the room. One of them clutched a cell phone, and the other looked around, no doubt scanning the room to find the large hook with which to drag her off.
“I do want you to lead better lives,” Monica said. “Because as far as I can work it out, this is it, the only life we get. Don’t waste it on Time Management crap. Don’t waste it on Thin Thighs in Thirty Days. How to Catch a Man When You’re Out of Bait. This workshop isn’t going to take two days. It may not even take twenty minutes. And don’t worry, if you’re not fully satisfied, I’m sure Help Yourself! Inc. will be more than happy to refund your money. Right, girls?” Monica gestured to the two assistants. They slunk as far as they could in their seats.
“If you prefer the flashing lights and eighties music, get an iPod and a disco ball. If you’re expecting words like ‘up sales’ and ‘down sales’ with smiling presenters dripping in bling, bragging about another new idea or product to shove down the throats of the gullible American public, then just go across the hall. I’m sure there’s one of those over there. Scream yourself silly and convince yourself you can only be happy if you have more things. A new house, a new car, diamonds dripping from your wrists.
“But that’s not what I want for you. Or me. I’m going to tell you a few simple things that I think could be stopping you from leading your best lives. They’ve certainly kept me from leading mine.” Monica reached into her pocket and pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills that had been her constant companion the past year.
“These are sleeping pills,” she said. “I’ve been carrying them around like a security blanket for the past year. And not because I was having trouble sleeping. In fact, I was pretty sure if I ever broke the seal on them, I would swallow every single one. Luckily, when it finally happened, I only took about half. I really thought I’d only taken three, but I was kind of dizzy from all the paint fumes. That’s another story. I vandalized a hotel room.” There was a small eruption of noise from the audience, gasps, and at least one “Oh my God.” A few people looked around, as if wondering if it were their hotel room she’d “vandalized.” Knowing a heart-to-heart when they heard one, the audience quieted down, afraid to miss a single word.
“At the same time that I was contemplating taking my life, I was standing up here, pretending I could help people like you live better lives. I, myself, was given everything growing up. I had two parents who loved me. Two nice homes. Money. Privilege. But something was missing. A sadness lived inside me. I couldn’t get rid of it, and I certainly couldn’t outrun it.” Monica stopped and took a deep breath.
“I’ve recently been lucky enough to hang out with some artists,” she said. “I asked my friend the painter what drove her to paint. I asked my friend the sculptor what drove him to sculpt. An actor what drove him to act. The essence of their answers was exactly the same. The pursuit of two things. Truth and beauty.” Monica stepped forward.
“I wondered how I too could apply truth and beauty to my life. Because carrying a bottle of sleeping pills around because I wasn’t sure I wanted to live wasn’t beautiful. And pretending to be the author of a book I didn’t really write was not the truth. And then I wanted to get to the root of every ugly lie that’s been weighing down my life.” For the first time since she began, Monica looked at the front row. “My mother and father are here today,” she said. “I’m sure it’s been very difficult for them to listen to this, my truth. It’s so hard to look at the people you love and tell them the truth. Isn’t it, Mom? Isn’t it, Dad?” Her parents stared back. At least they were still there, they hadn’t walked out. It gave Monica the courage to continue.
She gazed out at the audience. “I wonder how many of you are keeping secrets, both large and small, from the people you love. I know they’re weighing you down. Forcing you to build a false self in front of the true you.” Monica took off her jacket; her armpits were soaked. She took a sip of water, then looked at the four empty seats on the stage.
“Mom, Dad,” she said. “Please join me on stage.” This was it. From here on out, she would not be able to control what her parents did. They could walk out. They could deny everything. But she was willing to take that chance. Then, no matter what they did, she was going to live the rest of her life out in the open. She caught Mike’s eye in the second row. He smiled and gave a slight nod.
Her mother stood first, then the Colonel. Monica could tell his left leg was stiff from sitting, and his jaw was locked with tension. He gave her a look she knew well, the look that said she was humiliating him in public and he would not forget it. Strangely, she took this in without the usual dose of guilt or shame. She wasn’t here to humiliate them, she was simply facing the truth. She also knew with a sudden and sure clarity that they were her parents and she would love them no matter what. Her mother had tears in her eyes. She looked at Monica, then headed for the stage.
“Katherine,” Richard said as quietly as possible. “Katherine.” She looked back at her husband, and they stared at each other. An understanding must have passed between them, for a minute later, Richard Bowman gave one curt nod and then followed his wife on stage. They settled into the chairs, and the audience burst into applause.
“Thank you, Mom, thank you, Dad,” Monica said. “Six months ago something happened to me that changed my life as I knew it.” Monica’s voice faltered, but she forged on. “I have a sister,” she said. “Her name is Lacey.” The audience waited. “She’s my identical twin. And I didn’t know she even existed until six months ago.” This time, the audience went tilt. They broke out in loud murmurs; Monica heard the same woman say “Oh my God” again.
“Monica,” Richard said. “This isn’t an appropriate discussion for a public forum.”
“It’s the way she wanted it,” Monica said. “It’s the only way she would meet with you.” Monica found the interpreter in the audience, sitting slightly in the middle and to the side of the chair Lacey occupied.
“Lacey,” Monica said. “Would you please join us on stage?”
Richard stood.
“Monica!” he said. Katherine pulled him back down. She’d started to cry, but to her credit she stayed in her seat. Heads turned as Lacey and the interpreter made their way on stage. There were more gasps and murmurs as the twins stood side by side and a few more “Oh my God”s floated along with the flashes of cameras. Monica and Lacey exchanged a look; this would be the end of privacy as they knew it.
“This is my sister, Lacey,” Monica said. “And these,” she gestured to Richard and Katherine, “are our biological parents. I was not adopted.” The audience made the loudest ruckus yet. Richard and Katherine leapt to their feet.
“I’m taking you home,” Richard said. He took Katherine by the elbow; she jerked away.
“You don’t understand,” she said to the girls. “Lacey. We’ve never stopped loving you.” Katherine turned to Richard. “Tell her,” she said.
Richard cleared his throat, nodded.
“We’ve always loved you sweetheart,” he said. “We knew where you were, we knew you were happy, we paid for your school, your college—”
“You threw me away like a piece of garbage,” Lacey said.
“No,” Katherine said. “They said it was for the best.”
“They?” Monica asked. “Who are they?”
“We will not discuss this here,” Richard said. “We will not.” He took Katherine by the arm and began guiding her off the stage.
“Phase one,” Monica said as they watched them leave.
“On to phase two,” Lacey said. The girls quickly followed their parents offstage. Monica’s new assistants tried to stop her at the door.
“What do we do with them?” they said, gesturing to the audience, who looked as if they were going to pounce if everyone didn’t come back on stage soon.
“Celebrate good times,” Monica said. “Just celebrate good times.”
As promised, Alan and Mike were waiting in Alan’s car at the curb. Lacey and Monica hurried into the backseat.
“Have they left yet?” Monica asked. Alan pointed to the black Mercedes pulling out.
“Let’s go,” Lacey said. “But not too close.” Alan started the car and pulled out.
“I know the way to the cabin,” Monica said. “It’s okay if you lose them.”
“Why are you so sure they’re going to the cabin?” Mike asked.
“The Colonel is mortified,” Monica said. “He’s going to need to shoot something.” Lacey waited until the others had settled into their own, hunkering down for the long drive. Mike and Alan were talking up front. Monica was resting her eyes, mouth moving to a song on the radio, Lacey assumed. She snuck the latest note out of her pocket, and her stomach clenched with anticipation as she read it again.
Parents. Cabin. Lock them in the cellar until they talk. There’s rope and duct tape in a silver garbage pail under the shelf of canned peaches if you need them.
Chapter 36
K
elly Thayler stood at the exact spot Lacey told her to stand. Maria and Robert were up closer to the cabin, probably breaking the cellar window and throwing Kelly’s prosthetic leg into it at that very moment. Next they would help Kelly lure Mr. and Mrs. Bowman down to the cellar, then shut and lock the door behind them. After that, all they had to do was wait until Lacey gave the word, then let them all out.
Kelly hoped she’d get the chance to follow them down to the cellar. She didn’t care if Lacey got mad, she wanted part of the action. They’d been staying at a motel down the road, and she was ready to get this over with, get her leg back. Most of the time she leaned against a tree, but when Lacey texted her and said they were almost there, and she saw the black Mercedes coming down the road, she hopped on one leg out to the middle of the street. She was just going to have to trust Monica’s assurance that the Colonel had terrific reflexes. He did. He braked several inches away. Dirt from the country road flew into Kelly’s eyes. She wiped it away as she gave an exaggerated hop toward the car. A woman Kelly believed was Katherine Bowman was the first out of the car.
“My dear,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Kelly cried. “I’m not all right.” At this very moment, Alan was taking a second road to the cabin, a route that took slightly longer, but if Kelly delayed them long enough, they should beat them there.
“What in the devil are you doing in the middle of the road?” Richard Bowman yelled.
“Richard,” Katherine said.
“I could’ve killed you,” Richard said.
“I don’t care,” Kelly said. “I want my leg back! I want my leg back!” Richard and Katherine exchanged a look.
“I’m sure you do, dear,” Katherine said. “I’m sure you do.”
“It’s in your cellar,” Kelly said.
“I beg your pardon?” Richard said. “It’s what?”
“There were these two boys. They said they just wanted to see how I took it on and off. I believed them. But the minute I got it off—they took off.” Kelly pointed in the direction of the cabin.
“Oh my God,” Katherine said. “I’ve read about this kind of thing.”
Richard gave her a look.
“How do you know it’s in our cellar?” he asked.
“Because I followed them,” Kelly said. “I can hop, you know.”
“Of course you can, dear,” Katherine said.
“I saw them break a little window on the ground of your cabin and chuck it in—I assume it’s your cellar,” Kelly said.
“How did you know this is our property?” Richard asked.
“Everybody knows you, Mr. Bowman,” Kelly said. “Everyone with an air gun, that is.”
“You shoot?”
“Yes, sir. I may only have one leg, but I have two good arms.”
“That you do, dear,” Katherine said. “That you do.”
“Well, let’s stop standing around. Hop in the back,” Richard said, holding open the car door.
It was dark and smelled like damp peaches. When Monica located the chain and filled the small space with light, Lacey could see why. Canned peaches lined the walls, and the stone floor was slightly wet beneath their feet. Lacey pointed to the silver trash can. Monica opened it, leaned down, and when she came back up, she was holding duct tape and rope.
“Nice to know it’s there,” Lacey said. “But I don’t think we’ll need it.”
“Are you sure?” Monica said.
“Locking them in will be enough,” Lacey said.
“The Colonel might shoot his way out,” Monica said.
“We have the only gun down here,” Lacey said. Otherwise there were only spiderwebs, and peaches, and mold. “Can you hear anything?” she asked for the millionth time. Alan glanced at the broken window, their only link to fresh air.
“Not yet,” he said.
“Kelly’s doing a good job of distracting them,” Monica said.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to wait upstairs?” Mike asked.
“I want you here,” Monica said.
“Just keep quiet,” Lacey said. “Mon and I will do all the talking.” Alan suddenly put his finger up to his lips. Shhh. He heard a car. It was time.
Lacey could feel the Colonel clomping down the steps.
“The light is on,” he said. Monica and Lacey exchanged a look. Lacey saw a second pair of feet, small black flats, following him down the rickety wooden steps. Lacey could also feel the door at the top slam shut. The Colonel stopped moving. She watched his feet race back up the stairs. Monica slapped a hand over her mouth.
Nervous laughter,
Lacey thought as she watched her sister’s shoulders shake. At least she was holding it together somewhat.
“What the hell?” Alan interpreted. She could tell by his facial expression it was the Colonel. He pounded on the door. “Hey. Hey.” The pounding and screaming stopped. He stomped back down the stairs. As soon as he reached the landing, Monica stepped out, holding Kelly Thayler’s leg. Katherine screamed.
“Looking for this, Dad?” Monica said. Lacey stepped up beside her.
“Welcome home,” she said, using her voice. Alan would interpret for them when she signaled him to.
“How did you get here before us?” the Colonel said.
“You stopped at that diner,” Monica said. “We went hungry.” She gestured to two folding chairs they’d brought down from upstairs. “Please,” Monica said. “Have a seat.” Katherine obeyed. Richard stood with his hands on his hips.
“I will not,” he said. “Now let’s go back upstairs and discuss this around the dining room table like civil human beings.”
“We’re in charge here,” Lacey signed. At the sound of Alan’s voice, the Colonel’s head snapped around. He was truly startled; neither of them had noticed the men in the corner.
“I’m Lacey’s fiancé,” Alan said. “I’m interpreting for her. Everything you hear me say will be her words.” The Colonel finally took his eyes away from Alan and looked at Lacey.
“Please,” she said gesturing to the chair. “Sit.”
“We loved you,” Katherine said, leaping out of her chair. “We loved you both. Our girls. Our girls.”
“Then why?” Monica asked. “Why, Mom?”
“Enough,” the Colonel said. Lacey looked at Monica, who raised her eyebrows and held the duct tape up where only she could see it. Lacey flipped another light on the wall, one she’d already staked out. It illuminated a shelf behind her. On it sat the huge head of a buck. Its wide antlers and glassy eyes stared at the Colonel. According to Monica, the Colonel shot it when he was twelve. It had sat on the upstairs fireplace mantel as long as Monica could remember. Bucky. Nothing gave the Colonel more pride than Bucky.
“What the hell,” the Colonel said. He stepped toward the shelf. Mike suddenly stood in front of him, holding a paint gun.
“One more step and he gets a paint job,” Lacey said. The Colonel backed up. But he didn’t sit down. Instead he stomped back up the stairs.
“Mom?” Monica said. “Finish what you were going to say.”
“You had an unhealthy attachment to your sister,” Katherine said. “You couldn’t stand it if Lacey was out of your sight.”
“Katherine,” Richard warned from the top of the steps.
“We took you to a psychiatrist,” Katherine said. “She watched you two play for months. She said it wasn’t healthy.”
“We were twins,” Monica said. “We were close.”
“She said you might get violent,” Katherine said, maintaining eye contact with Monica.
“That’s ridiculous,” Lacey said. “Don’t blame her.”
“We were afraid she was going to kill you,” Katherine blurted out. Then, before either girl could respond, Katherine doubled over.
“Mom,” Monica said running toward her.
“I didn’t want to believe her,” Katherine moaned. “I didn’t want to listen.”
“It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay,” Monica said. Lacey didn’t move. She stared at Katherine.
“I should have never let you go to that stupid birthday party! That toy horse. That Goddamn toy horse!” Monica had never heard her mother swear before. Richard pounded back down the steps and got in Lacey’s face.
“Are you happy?” he said. “Is this what you wanted?”
“I just turned away for a minute,” Katherine said. “You two always played in the woods.”
“The horse,” Lacey said. “The blue plastic horse.” Katherine nodded.
“She’s been painting horses for years,” Monica said. It was almost a whisper.
“You had a cow,” Katherine said.
“You mean I was upset?” Monica said.
“No. I mean you had a toy cow. You fought for that horse all morning.”
“I don’t remember,” Monica said.
“You were just a baby. I thought it was just a phase. But then—”
“Then?” Monica said. Katherine glanced at Richard. He opened his arms, then sat down. He folded them across his chest, glanced at Bucky, and nodded.
“I heard a scream,” Katherine said. “Lacey’s scream. I’ll never forget that sound as long as I live. I ran as fast as I could. But it was too late. You’d already done it.”
“Done what?” Monica said. Perspiration clung to Monica’s lips. She looked terrified. Lacey wanted to tell everyone to stop, wanted to assure her it was okay.
“You pierced her eardrum with the leg of the horse,” Katherine said. She looked at Lacey. “There was blood everywhere. We didn’t take it out, they told us not to. We rushed you to the hospital. But they couldn’t repair the eardrum. A few days later, you got an infection, spiked a fever. You survived, but you lost your hearing in your other ear too.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” Monica said. “Oh God.” She looked as if she were going to fall. She reached out and grabbed the shelf nearest to where she stood. The board tilted, and canned peaches rolled down and smashed to the floor. Lacey went to her.
“It’s okay,” Lacey said turning her sister around and signing to her.
“How can you say that?” Monica said. “You’re Deaf because of me! We were separated because of me!”
“First—I say thank you,” Lacey said. “I’m happy being a Deaf woman, remember? It’s who I was supposed to be.”
“It was only going to be temporary,” Katherine said. “We weren’t giving you up. We were just waiting for Monica to calm down.”
“The horse,” Lacey said. “I have half of it.”
“After the accident, it was all you asked for,” Richard said. “For some reason you still wanted the damn thing.”
“So you gave me half?” Lacey said.
“Yes,” Richard said. “It sounds ridiculous, but parents will do anything to make their children happy. I couldn’t let you have the half that had taken away your hearing.”
“I visited you every weekend for the first year,” Katherine said. “Monica was inconsolable. But you. You were happy, Lacey. It got so that you would cry when you saw me coming because you thought I was going to make you come home. I’d never seen a child blossom so fast. And gradually, Monica stopped screaming and banging her head—”
“Banging her head?” Lacey said.
“We had to have a helmet on her whenever you two were separated,” Katherine said. “Monica would bang her head against whatever surface she could until you came back.”
“It’s my fault,” Monica moaned. “It’s all my fault.”
Lacey sat next to Monica and put her arms around her.
“I don’t blame you,” she said. “I’ve already told you. I’m happy to be a Deaf woman. I love my life. I love my culture, my language, my people. I’m happy. And we’re going to do everything we can to get you happy too. Truth and beauty, remember? I love you.” Lacey stood and faced her parents.
“You two have a lot more sucking up to do,” she said.
“Fair enough,” Richard said. “I’ve got just the way to start.”
“How?” Lacey asked. “Group therapy?”
“Hell no. The shooting range,” Richard said.
“Are you kidding me?” Lacey said. “I’m not a killer.”
“They’re just cans,” Richard said. “But don’t worry. After we shoot them, we’ll recycle them.”