Broken Glass

  “You really look beautiful, Haylee,” he said.

  “Thank you, Daddy. I don’t feel beautiful, but I’ll try for you.”

  He laughed, something he probably hadn’t done for nearly ten days. “You’re always beautiful to me, Haylee. Both of you,” he added.

  “I know. I feel like I’ve got to be doubly good at everything, do Kaylee’s share as well as my own. With everything!”

  He was silent for a while, and then he took a deep breath, turned to me, and said, “I really wanted us to be alone so we could talk about your mother more freely.”

  “She can’t stay like this forever, can she?”

  “That’s the issue,” he said. “Mrs. Lofter has been in constant touch with a Dr. Solomon Jaffe in Philadelphia, someone with whom she’s worked. She was a nurse at his clinic for more than ten years. He’s coordinated with Mrs. Lofter on the medication your mother is taking, but if she doesn’t make some progress, we’re going to have to have Dr. Jaffe examine her. It might be a deeper issue than we can manage at home, even with Mrs. Lofter’s help, and then there are days when she won’t be here, of course. I’d have to stay home when you were at school, or you might miss school.”

  He paused to let his words set in my mind. My silence was disturbing, but I was wondering if this was all leading to a place I had not intended to go. It was one thing to have people sympathize with you because your mother was distraught over the abduction of one of her children but another to have her declared certifiable. How would I live with that? Not that I would feel so guilty about it, but I was thinking that everyone would look at me differently.

  This had happened to Tami Gary when she was in the seventh grade. Her father had left them when Tami was in the fourth grade. Her parents hadn’t gotten a divorce. He’d just left, and Tami’s mother’s family had tried to get him arrested for not paying child support. That had been bad enough, but her mother had been into alcohol and some drugs, maybe as a result, and eventually had been put into a rehab clinic. Tami had gone to live with her grandmother, but I recalled how she had suddenly become so unpopular that she wasn’t invited to anything and barely had anyone to hang out with at school. Her mother had been in and out of rehab until she had eventually been put into a mental clinic, supposedly because of side effects from the life she had been leading, if it could be called a life. When Tami’s grandmother had died, Tami had been sent to live with an aunt and uncle on her father’s side, and no one had ever heard from her or about her again. And no one had cared!

  “Do you understand what I’m saying, Haylee?” Daddy now asked when I remained silent.

  “I think so,” I said. “She could go into a nuthouse.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t call it that. Nobody should—and anyway, even if she had to be admitted, it could be for only a while.”

  “Doesn’t matter, Daddy. Once she’s in there, everyone will think she’s crazy.”

  “Maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe we’ll get Kaylee back, and things will return to normal,” he said.

  He wasn’t saying it with any conviction. He was saying it the way parents said a thousand different things to you as you grew up. “Maybe Santa will bring you that for Christmas. . . . Maybe we’ll go to Disneyland next year. . . . Maybe we’ll do that when you’re older.” There were more maybes in life than anything else. Maybes were mostly empty promises designed to make you shut up, stop your complaints, and leave your parents alone.

  If I had to compare the two of them as we were growing up, I’d say Mother was more definite or determined about her maybes. Daddy used maybes a lot, especially just before their divorce. It seemed perfectly natural for him to be using another maybe now.

  “We have to be concerned for her,” he continued.

  “Can’t I just continue pretending along with her that Kaylee is home?” I said. “I’ll set the table that way, and I’ll invent conversations that Mother can overhear, and . . .”

  “The danger comes when she stops avoiding the truth, Haylee. The impact, as we already see, could be severe.”

  “Severe? You mean . . . she could commit suicide?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Let’s see what Dr. Jaffe concludes.”

  “When is that happening?”

  “Next week,” he said.

  “That fast?”

  “We’d be sorrier if we waited too long, right?” He forced a smile.

  We were close to the restaurant now, but I wasn’t thinking about the impression I was going to make on people, especially men, when we entered.

  Daddy wasn’t taking me out to cheer me up; he was taking me out to prepare me for more depressing things.

  “So you think she’s crazy, right? You always thought that, Daddy.”

  “I didn’t think she was crazy, just too fanatical when it came to raising you two. It got in the way of our relationship, but from what I could see, both of you were handling it all well enough and would be okay. This is just something out of the blue that no one could have predicted. We’ll handle it. Together.” He threw me a typical Daddy smile, full of promises and maybes.

  “Okay,” I said. It was the automatic answer when we had no choice anyway.

  “For now, let’s enjoy a great dinner together,” he said as we drove into the restaurant’s parking lot. “You can tell me all about your love life.”

  “My love life?”

  He pulled into a space and turned off the engine. There was that smile again. “What’s his name, Ryan Lockhart? I know he’s been coming to see you.”

  “Mrs. Lofter’s a little spy, huh?”

  “Just very observant. It’s part of her training. It’s all right. Frankly, I’m surprised more of your and Kaylee’s friends don’t come to see you.”

  “I’ve been discouraging it for now . . . with Mother and all.”

  “Right. But you like this Ryan Lockhart?”

  “Oh, he’s just a boy,” I said.

  “They’re all just boys, and I remember what that means,” he said, and opened the door.

  “Then maybe you’ll tell me what it means, Daddy. Sometimes it’s like navigating through a swamp.”

  He laughed, and we started toward the restaurant entrance. I had never been here, and I wondered if it was a place to which he had brought one of his girlfriends. He opened the door for me and took my hand as we stepped inside.

  “You’re my date,” he said. “Let’s make sure no one misunderstands that.” He nodded toward the bar as we walked by. A group of young men had stopped talking and were looking our way. I smiled to myself, thinking that the interest of good-looking new men was something I no longer had to share with Kaylee. Besides, I’d always believed they were looking mostly at me. I gave off the air of maturity they’d like in a girl my age.

  My suspicions were correct. The maitre d’ knew my father. He had been here often.

  “Good evening, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the man said, his gaze locked mostly on me. “And who is this beautiful young lady?”

  “My daughter,” Daddy said.

  “You will have to hire the Secret Service for protection,” the maitre d’ replied, smiling.

  Daddy held on to my hand as the maitre d’ led us to what I assumed was Daddy’s favorite table, off to the side and sort of private. I couldn’t help but enjoy the looks I was getting from men with their dates or wives. I wondered if any of them thought I was Daddy’s girlfriend. Whenever he took Kaylee and me out, there was no doubt who we were. We had to be his daughters. But by myself, I was suddenly more mysterious. It was a feeling I had never had when we were with him.

  It was an elegant restaurant, one that Mother would surely call pricey. The waiter gave Daddy the wine list, and he ordered something by the glass. He whispered that he would give me a sip of it.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said. “They make a terrific surf and turf here. My favorite and something I know you girls like.”

  “Kaylee never liked it as much,” I said.

&nb
sp; He nodded, thoughtful. His wine came, and we ordered salads and the surf and turf.

  “Now, I would never dare say this to your mother, even when you two were not around,” he began. I had sensed there was more to this dinner date than preparing me for possibly more intense psychiatric attention to Mother. My body tightened as though I were expecting a slap or something. “But I do see some significant differences between the two of you, of course. You are not clones, even though your mother sometimes presents you as if you are.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “Neither Kaylee nor I want to be a clone.”

  “And you think maybe that was why she did what she did?”

  I shrugged.

  “She’s never seemed that adventurous to me,” he said. “I guess I’ve really been out of the loop when it comes to you two.”

  I kept my gaze on my soft drink and waited for him to say or ask something more.

  “From what the police have told us about their interrogations of your friends and hers, no one had the least suspicion. Is she that good at keeping secrets?”

  “For us, a secret is like a diamond,” I muttered. “We’ve had to share so much in front of everyone, especially Mother and you.”

  Our salads came. I really shouldn’t have been surprised at his curiosity. He was our father, despite all that had occurred between him and Mother. A father had to have some instincts about his children. Mother made it seem like he was a complete stranger sometimes.

  “Why do you think she claimed it was all happening on her computer?” he asked.

  “You’re into computers and all that, Daddy. I suppose it’s not a big leap for her to think of that first.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s just that I keep thinking she’s always been more timid than you. To me, it seems that she depends more on you to lead when it comes to anything social.”

  “Maybe that bothers her,” I offered.

  He looked thoughtful.

  “Besides, timid girls are more apt to get into trouble, don’t you think? They’re more trusting.”

  “That makes sense. You’re right,” he said. I felt the tightness lessen in me. “Well, let’s stop talking about it. I’m defeating my purpose, aren’t I? This was supposed to be a dinner for relief, a breather. Let’s get back to your love life.”

  “And back to your telling me what ‘they’re all boys’ means?”

  He laughed. “I never had a pretty girl for a friend. Don’t believe the propaganda. Any boy who wants to be just friends is really trying to figure out a way to be more. Or else, he lacks testosterone.”

  For a moment, I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh. Then he cracked a smile, and I did.

  It was wonderful.

  My father was becoming my father.

  If Kaylee wasn’t gone, it might never have happened.

  16

  Kaylee

  I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but it was dark outside, and whatever lights we had were on. Anthony was back in the basement apartment when I woke, and at the foot of the bed were two bags and a shoe box from a department store I knew well. Mother had bought most of our new clothes and shoes there, in fact. Had Haylee told him that? Had she recited one detail of our lives after another, with him taking notes like a student studying the Fitzgeralds? Did he even know the name of our dentist?

  “Ah, finally awake,” he said, coming over to the bed. “You took a nice long nap. I’ve been back nearly an hour, and I have nice surprises for you.”

  He opened one bag and took out a new bra and some panties, in mixed colors, and a dozen pairs of mixed-colored socks. He placed it all on the bed, laying everything out like a display in a flea market.

  “Just as I promised, new clothes,” he said. He waited for my reaction, but I simply gaped. “Oh, I know. You’re wondering how a man can buy a woman’s clothes for her and get it right, huh? Well, I have a confession. I kept your old clothes so I could be sure to get the right sizes when it came time to start buying you new clothes. I lied to you because I didn’t want you asking for them constantly. Don’t ask for them now,” he quickly added. “They’re really gone this time, just like I said. But there’s lots better here and more coming.”

  He reached into the second bag and took out a light-pink blouse with a frilly white collar and a darker-pink pencil skirt.

  “Look familiar?” he asked, proudly holding the two up against each other.

  I recognized it. Haylee and I had the same outfit. She had either told him about it or worn it so he could see it when they communicated over the Internet.

  “Time to put some color into the place, don’tcha think? Brighten you up. Of course, Ma wouldn’t be happy about how tight and short some skirts are these days. This isn’t that short, but it’s tight. I didn’t want to get you something old-fashioned. Girls like to keep in style, look sexy, right? You told me about some of the other clothes you had and how important clothes and shoes were to you. This is just a start. Every day, I’ll bring you something new that’s just like what you had, what were your favorite things. Well, I mean almost every day.” He smiled. “Listen to me rambling on like this. I get so enthusiastic that I exaggerate some. I gotta work, too. Can’t go shopping anytime I want.”

  He opened the shoe box and took out the shoes, a pair of black flats.

  “This is what you was wearing the first night. I wouldn’t give them back to you. We want only new things for a new life, right? Same size,” he said proudly, and dropped them back into the box. “I brought one of the old shoes with me to be sure I had a perfect match. Shoe salesman was pretty damn impressed. ‘A woman lets you buy her shoes?’ he asked. ‘My woman’s special,’ I told him.”

  I hadn’t moved an inch or said a word. I was still wondering how long and in what detail Haylee had been discussing this new life with him. What other secrets about us had she revealed? Her contact with him had probably been going on for some time before I’d finally realized it.

  He folded his arms across his chest and leered at me. “You know, the least you could do is say ‘Thank you, Anthony.’ ” He waited for it.

  “Thank you, Anthony,” I said.

  He smiled as if he hadn’t forced me to say it. “You’re more than welcome, honey. Well, get it all on. Tonight’s perfect for dolling yourself up. I’m making us a rib eye with fries and green beans. Of course, we’ll have a nice salad with some fresh bread. And wait until you see the chocolate cake I got you for dessert. Your favorite of favorites, seven-layer. We’ll get that weight back on you in no time.”

  He slapped his palms together so hard I was sure it stung, but he didn’t seem to care. I winced. The air seemed to be crackling around me.

  “Chop, chop,” he said, then turned and headed for the stove. I rose slowly. He unchained me until I put on the new clothes. Considering that he had been able to use my own clothes to determine sizes, it was easy to see how much weight I had lost when I was dressed in what he had bought me. It brought me to tears.

  He paused and shook his head, smiling with a look of amazement.

  “You are the sort of woman who just can’t look ugly, even when you’ve lost so much weight, Kaylee,” he said. “I knew that from the first time I laid eyes on you. I’ve done struck gold,” he declared.

  How he was able to look at me and say that was not just amazing, it was insane. I saw that he had been taking sips from a bottle of gin as he worked on our food, and he took another sip now.

  He wiped his lips and said, “Real beauty cannot be silenced. To you.”

  He drank again. I stood there, feeling a little weak and wobbly. His smile evaporated. He expected something from me for layering one compliment after another, but I was still too dazed even to pretend appreciation.

  “Go wash your hands for dinner,” he commanded sharply, sounding more like an overbearing parent who was disappointed in his child’s lack of gratitude. He nodded toward the bathroom. “Go on. Don’t dilly-dally. I’m starving, too. Man needs his
strength for a woman like you. It’s like breaking in a wild horse or something. It ain’t easy, but you’ll appreciate me when you realize how much I’ve been doing for you. Damn right, you will.”

  His voice could change in tone as fast as striking a match. The fire in his eyes quickly followed what he had said. Even if it was just for another second or two, his fixed angry gaze was horrifying. He was like two different people, one sweet and caring and one wrathful and mean. Perhaps when he got like that, he was more like his father as he had described him, vicious and unpredictable. And when he was nice, he was like his mother. I could almost see the two personalities wrestling in his mind, neither staying down too long.

  I moved as quickly as I could to the bathroom, hoping that if he saw how dragging the chain was especially difficult for me in my weakened condition, he might be merciful and unfasten it again. Surely he could tell that I didn’t have the strength to attempt another escape, but when I glanced back at him, I didn’t see any sympathy. He was still gazing at me furiously, as if he imagined having a whip in his hand. Maybe that was coming next.

  The moment I looked into the bathroom mirror, I lost my breath and started to gasp. Having felt the top of my head earlier, I had some idea of how brutal he had been when he cut my hair, but the sight of it now, the patches randomly interspersed with portions that showed pink scalp, was so ugly and disfiguring I wished he had shaved me until I was completely bald. When I saw myself now, I once again wondered how he could look at me and mention the word beauty. Didn’t he realize what he had done?

  A rush of new terror I didn’t think possible came over me. I thought I had reached the limit of what I could endure, but my pale face became even paler. The contrast with the bright new blouse made it look even worse. Visions of Haylee standing behind me and gaping at me returned. Her smile began and widened. I heard her laugh and saw her run her fingers through her beautiful hair, tormenting me with the sight of her rich, pampered strands.

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. The little strength that had returned surged down my arm and helped me make a fist. I screamed and screamed and pounded the mirror, pounded at Haylee’s face, until I heard the glass shatter. Blood seemed to leap out of my hand. In moments, Anthony was beside me, his eyes bugging at the sight. I began to sink to the floor, but he grabbed me around the waist and helped me up with his right arm as he turned on the water and ran it over my hand. I watched my blood stream down the drain and wished I could go down completely with it.