Into the Garden

  "Pornography," she said. "And sex manuals." I raised my eyebrows and she added, "With pictures."

  My eyes widened. To discover that Geraldine read these...it was so shocking, I wondered if I wasn't dreaming this whole thing.

  "No."

  "Yes," she said, smiling. "Your precious Saint Geraldine had a whole secret life here. While she wouldn't let you own a bathing suit or wear shorts or clothes she thought might look too tight, behind closed doors she was Miss X-rated. What a

  hypocrite."

  Jade tossed the books and magazines onto the pile of clothing.

  "Nothing will surprise me now," she said, and started on the closet.

  I stood back, still stunned. What did all this mean? "Get in here," Jade called.

  I entered the closet. She was standing in the corner. She had pulled away most of the garments and there, well hidden behind them, was a small safe.

  "I don't suppose you know the combination," she asked me.

  "I didn't even know it was here."

  "This isn't going to be easy to open," she said. She knelt down and searched around the safe. I drew closer. "Go back and search that night stand drawer. Look for numbers written on anything," she ordered. "Since she kept it locked, we might have a shot."

  I took everything out of the drawer slowly and inspected it. There was a small flashlight, some overthe-counter medicines for colds and headaches, a box of cough drops, a pen, a pair of reading glasses, a small pair of scissors and a back scratcher, but no slips of paper, and no pads. There was nothing written on the pad by the phone either. I returned to the contents of her pocketbook and sifted through it all carefully..

  "Nothing," I told Jade when she emerged from the closet.

  She stood there with her hands on her hips, thinking. "We've got to find the combination," she said.

  "It's going to be like searching for a needle in the haystack," I told her.

  "Maybe. We've got to think like her. I saw this movie once where the detective tried to become the killer, get into his mind, to track him down," she said.

  I smiled. She was sounding more like Misty, but at least the search had inspired her and washed away her expressions of gloom- and doom.

  "She was confident that you would never come in here. That door doesn't even lock," she said, nodding at the bedroom door. "Once it was shut, it was as good as locked, though. Yet, she did lock the nightstand. Why? Maybe because your adoptive father slept here," she answered herself, just like Geraldine used to do. "Chances are he never knew the combination to that safe either."

  "Do you think he knew about the other stuff?" I asked, nodding at the sexy undergarments and the books and magazines. She thought a moment and shook her head.

  "No, I don't, especially after what you've told us about both of them and their relationship." She gazed around the room and shook her head. "You're right," she said. "If she wrote it down on something, it could be anywhere, maybe even in a different room. Still, we should give it a try," she concluded, and started to inspect behind furniture and under the bed. She even pulled out the drawers and looked behind them as well. I did as much searching as I could and after about a half hour of ripping things apart, we both stopped and sat on the mattress, discouraged.

  "It's got to be someplace really obvious," she thought. She gazed up at the light fixture and then looked at the windows and ran her eyes over the walls. "Once, at school, when I was afraid I might forget my locker combination, I went into the girls' room and I wrote it in tiny numbers on the wall in the first stall. Let's inspect the walls," she decided and rose. I took the opposite wall. We practically had our noses to them.

  "What are you two weirdos doing?" Star asked from the doorway.

  We had both been concentrating so hard, neither of us heard her and Misty come in and up the stairs. They both stood there gaping at us, bags in hand.

  "We're looking for the combination to the secret safe I discovered in the closet. I thought Geraldine might have scribbled it on a wall."

  "Secret safe?" Misty asked.

  "I discovered a few other surprises too' Jade said, nodding at the second pile on the floor.

  Star approached it slowly and then knelt down and examined the garments. She picked up the books and magazines, too.

  "Are these what I think they are?" she asked Jade.

  "None other:' Jade said. "Geraldine was Madame X-rated herself, apparently. Behind closed doors, of course."

  "Wow," Misty said gaping. She looked at me.

  "I never knew any of it' I said.

  "What would make you think she wrote a combination to the safe on the walls?" Star asked

  Jade explained her theory and the next thing I knew, all four of us were going over every inch of the room, searching for numbers. After about twenty minutes or so we stopped, Star declaring it was stupid.

  "Can't we just break it open?" she asked.

  "Go look for yourself," Jade said, and she did, returning with her head shaking.

  "No way without dynamite," she said. "Do you have any idea what's in it?" she asked me.

  "I didn't even know it was there," I said, "much less have any idea of what's in it."

  "The way to find out what's in it' Jade said, "is to open it."

  "Really? Why didn't I think of that?" Star asked Misty. She widened her eyes and looked from one to the other. "If we drop it from the window on a big rock, maybe it will break open."

  "I doubt it," Jade said.

  "Well, we can't spend all day looking for numbers," Star declared. "We should be getting some of this painting done. Don't forget," she told me, "you're coming to my house for dinner and staying over."

  I smiled and nodded.

  Jade groaned her frustration and stood staring down at the nightstand for a moment. She sifted through the cough drops and medicines, studying the labels.

  "Where would she keep numbers?" she muttered.

  "Mix the paint, Misty," Star ordered. "We got you your own roller, Miss Jade," she said.

  Jade didn't turn. She kept her concentration on the nightstand. Then she picked up the flashlight and turned it in her hands.

  "Any time Miss Beverly Hills is ready to help do what she wanted all of us to do is fine," Star sang.

  Jade looked at her and pointed the flashlight at her.

  "I'll beam you out of here if you don't shut up," she warned, and flicked the flashlight on, only it didn't go on. She shook it and then threw it on the bed. "You're lucky it doesn't work."

  "Geraldine was fastidious about keeping everything working. Remember her obsession with our inventory," I reminded them.

  Jade stared at me a moment, and then she smiled and picked up the flashlight. She unscrewed it quickly and looked at the cap. Then she broke into a very wide grin and held up a tiny slip of paper.

  "That's why it doesn't work," she said. She unfolded it. No one spoke for a moment, waiting. "It's the combination," she declared. "Clever."

  She nodded at me and we followed her back into the closet where she knelt before the safe and began to work the numbers from the little slip of paper. There was a click. She looked up. I drew closer, and she opened the safe door.

  The first thing she held up was a very thick stack of money wrapped with a rubber band.

  "All fifties," she announced, flipping through it. "There's a lot of money here... thousands, probably."

  "Good," Star said. "I was afraid we were going to have to raise the club's dues."

  Misty laughed and Jade reached into the safe to pro- duce a velvet sack. She emptied it on the floor. It was filled with rings, bracelets, earrings and two expensive looking women's wristwatches, all of it sparkling with diamonds and rubies.

  "I bet all that belonged to your mother," Misty told me.

  "Yes, I suppose it did. Geraldine never wore any rings and even hated wearing a watch. She never wore earrings either," I said.

  "It all belongs to you now," Star said.

  "There are documents, to
o," Jade said, continuing her search. She opened them as she pulled them out and de- scribed them. "Deed to the house, their wedding certificate, some savings bonds, sizeable too," she added.

  "So Cat's rich," Star said. "Now let's get back to work. Cat and I have to leave in about three hours or so:'

  "Wait," Jade said. "There's something way in the back." She extended her hand and came out with an official looking envelope. She gazed at me and then she turned it and opened it, pulling out some documents.

  "Well?" Star asked

  "It's adoption papers," she said.

  "Well, there's no surprise there. We know Cat was adopted, right?" Star asked.

  "Right," I said.

  "This is a surprise," Jade said, nodding her head. She turned the papers our way. "They're not Cat's adoption papers."

  "Huh?" Star said.

  "They're Geraldine's. According to this, Cat, she isn't even your half sister. Your mother adopted her."

  "What?"

  Jade continued to read.

  "She was adopted here in California." She looked up at me. "It's official. She's not really related to you."

  "Good," Star said quickly. "She's better off not having even the slightest blood tie to that witch. You're okay with it, right, Cat?" she said, putting her arm around me.

  I didn't know what to say. All these surprises stunned me. I felt like I was being turned around and around by each different discovery until the whole world was topsy- turvy.

  "I don't understand. It has to be some sort of mistake or confusion. Someone put the wrong name on the papers. It should have been my name"

  Star glanced at the papers and handed them to me.

  "Read it for yourself. It's stamped and signed and her name and the date are in a number of places. No one made any mistakes."

  I studied the document. It was true.

  "She never even... suggested such a thing," I muttered. "No one did."

  "And there's nothing in the letters you've read yet that suggests it either," Misty added.

  I looked at her and nodded.

  "Maybe it's coming up in the ones that remain," Jade said softly. She stood up. "It doesn't really matter all that much anymore anyway," she said. "She's gone. You've got to put the whole ugly past behind you."

  "I never saw any resemblances between the two of you anyway," Star said.

  "Oh, my God," Misty cried, her eyes wider. We looked at each other. "She could have married Alden. He wasn't really her uncle. No wonder she was so upset about it."

  "Yes," I said. "Yes." So much was beginning to make sense to me now.

  "Here's the money," Jade said, handing it to me, "and your mother's jewelry. You might as well keep it in your own room now." She closed the safe and locked it again.

  I took it all and gazed at the documents and then I left the closet and sat on the naked mattress. They all came out and stood before me, waiting. I glanced at the pile of sexy clothing and then at them.

  "I never knew anyone, I guess. No one was who they were supposed to be. Everyone lied."

  "It's been the same for us," Jade pointed out. "The only difference is it's stopped for you." She looked at Star and Misty. "Not for us."

  Everyone was quiet, lost for a few moments in her own dark thoughts. Star was the first to emerge, and as usual, channeled her anger into energy.

  "Are we going to paint this place or just sit around moaning and groaning about ourselves? I thought we didn't need anyone else anyway."

  "Right," Misty said.

  Jade nodded.

  "Right."

  "Then let's get started, Princess Jade," Star said, and thrust a roller in her hands.

  "We need music!" Misty cried, and rushed out to turn on the stereo. A minute or so later, the sounds rocked the house. Star twirled with her roller in the air and Misty shimmied up to her. The two of them lipsynching the song. Jade and I roared.

  Secrets fall like rain, she had said.

  Maybe Star was right: my storms were over.

  Or maybe, maybe they had just begun.

  11 Exposed

  For all of us the revelation of family secrets and lies made the world seem less and less solid. It was as though the very ground we walked upon could become thin ice at any moment. We would fall through, screaming and crying until we hit rock bottom, forced to confront another ugly truth about ourselves or our lives. Even with a warm, secure and loving family, young people my age struggled to find the answer to the haunting questions, "Who am I? Who am I supposed to be?"

  After it's all over, the early childhood, a chain of birthdays woven with candlelight, piles of presents, voices of relatives singing and praising your promise and future, after the years of schooling, fitting yourself into different size desks, memorizing, reciting, reporting, and performing for jury after jury of teachers, counselors, and administrators, you still feel inadequate, alone, vulnerable, and naked in a world that can be unforgiving and terribly demanding.

  Sometimes, you cling to your family like some shipwrecked passenger clutching a lifesaver, but when you look into their eyes, you see their impatience and their expectation. You hear what they're thinking you should be swimming on your own by now. You'll only drag all of us down if you don't.

  If you're lucky, really lucky, you find someone to love who will in turn love you and the loneliness and fear is greatly reduced. Often, it seems from what we've all experienced, you can make the wrong choice and just when you thought it was safe enough to let go of the lifesaver, you're tossing and turning and on the verge of drowning again.

  But what if you've never really had a loving family? What if all your birthdays were treated as minor inconveniences and all your presents were grudgingly shoved your way? What if all your candles were snuffed too quickly and whenever you reached for that lifesaver, you were tossed ideflated tube and left to struggle on your own?

  And what if after you had come through the darkness and finally looked for the light and for hope and promise, you found only a prism of lies twisting and turning, making you dizzy and sending you spinning in a whirlpool of memories you now knew were all illusions? Into what stream, what pool would you dip your hands to wash your face in smiles? Where would you go to hear the melody of laughter? What place in yourself would you reach into to draw out some happy moment to share even if you did find someone with whom you could share?

  How would you know the difference between yourself and your shadow? Would anyone blame you for stopping and asking everyone, every passerby, every acquaintance, every stranger the same question? Do you know who I am? Do you know where I can go to find that out?

  I had a mother who was captured only in a small pile of letters. I had a father who was someone frozen in old photographs, a face without a voice, a hand without a touch, eyes that never saw me and ears that never heard me. I had parents consisting of twisted and knotted ribbons of deception, who even deceived each other.

  My friends and I had begun to unravel all the ribbons and make the painful discoveries. My mother was not my mother. She was my half sister. My half sister was not my half sister. She was a complete stranger who had no past herself. What if one day, one moment early in my life, she had stopped and turned to me and said, "Cathy, it's time you knew the truth so that we can all live in a solid world, a world without thin ice."

  What if she had given me the most precious gift of all? My real name, my identity, an opportunity to be someone and know the difference between my shadow and myself? What kept her from doing that? Who was she punishing? Or was she merely so full of hate that any act of love was beyond her?

  Tied and bound by death she lay in the cold, dark earth behind our house like some piece of buried evidence that would easily convict all those who had helped create her. It was best not to think of her. Oh, do not think of her, Cathy. Run your hand over your forehead, I told myself, and wash the memory away as you would some ugly stain. Think of yourself as reborn. Light new candles, Cathy the Cat. Turn them against the darknes
s.

  I thought all these things as I worked

  mechanically beside my new sisters. They chatted and laughed, sang and giggled, and filled their ears and eyes constantly so as to keep out their own demons. Geraldine used to say "Work hard so you don't think about unpleasant thoughts." She was right about that, although I was sure she never dreamed I would think of her as one of those troubling thoughts.

  "All right now," Jade cried, interrupting my reverie as she turned around and looked at our work. The whole room, even the ceiling, was a flat black. She, Star, and Misty had moved the furniture out, taking the beds apart first and then removing all the drawers from the dressers. The room was completely bare. All the furniture and clothing was in the hallway near the stairs.

  "Tomorrow, call the Salvation Army," Jade said. "They'll come by to pick up the furniture and the clothes." She looked at me. "Is there anything of hers you don't want to give away?"

  "No," I said, without any hesitation. "Good." She inspected the door closely. "Can this be locked somehow?"

  "Why?" I asked.

  "This room will be our sanctuary, our temple We don't want anyone in here, even by accident," she explained. Star looked at the door too.

  "You'll have to replace this knob with one that locks then," she said.

  "Okay. I'll pick up a new knob on the way here tomorrow," Jade promised.

  "Let's get going then. It's late," Star said.

  We went to clean up and I put on something nicer than a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt to wear to Star's house. Then I packed a small bag for my overnight stay. I couldn't help feeling anxious about it. I had never before stayed overnight in anyone's home but my own.

  Jade called for her limousine and ordered the driver to take us to Star's after he had dropped off Misty and her, but I couldn't help trembling a little as I locked the front door and left. Jade sensed it the most, I thought.

  "It will get easier and easier each time," she whispered. "Before long, you won't even give her a passing thought." She squeezed my hand and we all got into the limousine.

  I clutched my overnight bag on my lap like I would a parachute and stared ahead.