Stupid Boy
Page 61
Quickly, I readied myself for another visit with Corinne Belle.
At Oakview, Ms. Baker greeted me as always, as though she hadn’t seen me just a few weeks ago. I’d dressed in a trim green velvet maxi dress and a pair of expensive black pumps. I’d left my hair down, tucked behind my ears. I’d carried a fruitcake for the staff. It felt like a brick in my hand, but they always seemed to enjoy it.
I went through the usual greetings and braced myself for the icy stare I’d receive when I stepped inside Corinne’s room. She didn’t open her eyes when I entered; she’d been dressed in a red plaid flannel nightgown that had a white collar. Her hair, snowy white, was pulled into a bun. Her face was relaxed, void of the angry lines usually there. My heart began to beat fast, and I drew a deep breath.
“Merry Christmas, Grandmother Belle.”
Those icy blue eyes didn’t flash open. Those snowy brows didn’t collide into a terrorizing scowl.
I moved closer. Slipped my hand to hers as it rested on top of her quilt. It was as icy as her stare. Cold. Stiff.
My heart lurched. “Grandmother?”
Corinne Belle didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. And she didn’t breathe.
I stood there, staring down at her, waiting for those awful mean eyes to flutter open, focus on me, and blaze. They didn’t. My body began to shake. My breath quickened, and so did my heart. How could this be? How?
“Merry Christmas! So, how are we doing this morning?” Ms. Baker announced as she walked in.
My eyes didn’t leave Corinne Belle’s body. “She’s…” my voice quivered. Cracked.
“Oh my dear child!” Ms. Baker gasped. “Ms. Belle!” She hurried over to my grandmother’s side, patting her hand, her cheek. She raised her worried gaze to mine. “I just bathed her an hour and a half ago,” she said, tearful. “Ms. Harper, I’m so sorry.”
Tears didn’t fall from my eyes.
Not for Corinne Belle.
No one knew the things I knew.
And it’d stay that way.
Forever.
“Ms. Belle! Darling, are you okay?” Ms. Baker crooned.
I saw the monster in the bed. Her eyes were closed. And they weren’t opening. My hands gripped the side of the frame, so tightly my knuckles were white. I eased my breathing as much as could.
I looked at Ms. Baker. “I’m perfectly fine. For the first time in my life.”
The monster was dead.
And I was alone.
The staff rushed in then, Ms. Baker cooing and pushing Corinne Belle’s hair back and disconnecting her feeding tubes. I sat back and watched, quietly. Confusion kept me there. What was I to do?
“Ms. Belle, don’t you worry about a thing,” Ms. Baker said, squatting beside me in the chair I sat in. “Your grandmother was a gracious woman, I can tell. She has all of her final arrangements in order.” She patted my hand. “You won’t have to do a thing.”
The words were almost comical to me. I didn’t blame Ms. Baker for not knowing. Although how she couldn’t see the pure hatred shooting from those icy blue eyes like lightning bolts was beyond me. Still, I stared at Corinne Belle, even as the staff fussed over her, making her stiff head comfortable on the pillow, the quilt tucked just so around her skinny frail neck. They had no idea about the monster they were tucking in one last time.
“Is there someone I should call for you, dear?” Ms. Baker asked.
I didn’t look at her. Only at my dead grandmother. “There’s no one,” I answered. “No one except me.”
* * *
Christmas night, I laid by the fire in Belle House. I wondered what would happen now. What I’d do next. I didn’t know who I was. Who I was supposed to be. Was I free now? Or would I always be trapped inside this prison Corinne had set for me. Would I ever be normal? I wanted to call Murphy. I’d shut her out completely, but now I wanted to let her know things. My past. Why Detective Shanks was at Winston. It’d feel good to release those demons without fear of repercussions from Corinne. Would it be that easy? Just…release?
And that’s when an idea struck me.
I had something to do first. Then I’d call Murphy.
I sat up, found my phone, and called information.
“City and state please,” the operator called out.
“Boston, Mass,” I offered. “I’m unsure of the city, actually. The listing is Harbor Breeze Care Facility.”
“That’s in Revere, hold for your number.”
So I did.
* * *
After I’d made the call, my thoughts rampaged. For the first time in my life, I’d known who I was with Kane. Even if for a little while, I’d known. It was the first time I’d felt real my whole life. Now, he was gone. I was truly alone. And I didn’t know what to do. I wanted him back. So very badly.
Finally, sleep overcame me. Corinne’s face appeared before me as I closed my eyes, almost like a ghost from a Charles Dickens novel. Her eyes flashed fury, dripped with icy blue frost, and her brows plowed together as she drew close to me, staring, damning my soul. Threatening to lock me away in an asylum. I think she wanted to haunt me, truly. I forced my eyes to stay shut. Forced her vision to leave. Forced sleep.
I drifted then, in and out of nightmares and the past and under beds and in cubbyholes and in dank dirty kitchen cabinets. Visions of that night flashed before me like an old movie projector, faces pale, angry, screaming. And the blood.
“No!” I screamed with my eyes shut. My lips were numb, my heart raced wildly against my ribs and, despite the cold in the hall, I poured sweat across my brow. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I sobbed. “No! Please! Don’t lock me in an asylum! I’m not bad! I…I am not psychotic! Please, grandmother!”
At Oakview, Ms. Baker greeted me as always, as though she hadn’t seen me just a few weeks ago. I’d dressed in a trim green velvet maxi dress and a pair of expensive black pumps. I’d left my hair down, tucked behind my ears. I’d carried a fruitcake for the staff. It felt like a brick in my hand, but they always seemed to enjoy it.
I went through the usual greetings and braced myself for the icy stare I’d receive when I stepped inside Corinne’s room. She didn’t open her eyes when I entered; she’d been dressed in a red plaid flannel nightgown that had a white collar. Her hair, snowy white, was pulled into a bun. Her face was relaxed, void of the angry lines usually there. My heart began to beat fast, and I drew a deep breath.
“Merry Christmas, Grandmother Belle.”
Those icy blue eyes didn’t flash open. Those snowy brows didn’t collide into a terrorizing scowl.
I moved closer. Slipped my hand to hers as it rested on top of her quilt. It was as icy as her stare. Cold. Stiff.
My heart lurched. “Grandmother?”
Corinne Belle didn’t flinch. She didn’t move. And she didn’t breathe.
I stood there, staring down at her, waiting for those awful mean eyes to flutter open, focus on me, and blaze. They didn’t. My body began to shake. My breath quickened, and so did my heart. How could this be? How?
“Merry Christmas! So, how are we doing this morning?” Ms. Baker announced as she walked in.
My eyes didn’t leave Corinne Belle’s body. “She’s…” my voice quivered. Cracked.
“Oh my dear child!” Ms. Baker gasped. “Ms. Belle!” She hurried over to my grandmother’s side, patting her hand, her cheek. She raised her worried gaze to mine. “I just bathed her an hour and a half ago,” she said, tearful. “Ms. Harper, I’m so sorry.”
Tears didn’t fall from my eyes.
Not for Corinne Belle.
No one knew the things I knew.
And it’d stay that way.
Forever.
“Ms. Belle! Darling, are you okay?” Ms. Baker crooned.
I saw the monster in the bed. Her eyes were closed. And they weren’t opening. My hands gripped the side of the frame, so tightly my knuckles were white. I eased my breathing as much as could.
I looked at Ms. Baker. “I’m perfectly fine. For the first time in my life.”
The monster was dead.
And I was alone.
The staff rushed in then, Ms. Baker cooing and pushing Corinne Belle’s hair back and disconnecting her feeding tubes. I sat back and watched, quietly. Confusion kept me there. What was I to do?
“Ms. Belle, don’t you worry about a thing,” Ms. Baker said, squatting beside me in the chair I sat in. “Your grandmother was a gracious woman, I can tell. She has all of her final arrangements in order.” She patted my hand. “You won’t have to do a thing.”
The words were almost comical to me. I didn’t blame Ms. Baker for not knowing. Although how she couldn’t see the pure hatred shooting from those icy blue eyes like lightning bolts was beyond me. Still, I stared at Corinne Belle, even as the staff fussed over her, making her stiff head comfortable on the pillow, the quilt tucked just so around her skinny frail neck. They had no idea about the monster they were tucking in one last time.
“Is there someone I should call for you, dear?” Ms. Baker asked.
I didn’t look at her. Only at my dead grandmother. “There’s no one,” I answered. “No one except me.”
* * *
Christmas night, I laid by the fire in Belle House. I wondered what would happen now. What I’d do next. I didn’t know who I was. Who I was supposed to be. Was I free now? Or would I always be trapped inside this prison Corinne had set for me. Would I ever be normal? I wanted to call Murphy. I’d shut her out completely, but now I wanted to let her know things. My past. Why Detective Shanks was at Winston. It’d feel good to release those demons without fear of repercussions from Corinne. Would it be that easy? Just…release?
And that’s when an idea struck me.
I had something to do first. Then I’d call Murphy.
I sat up, found my phone, and called information.
“City and state please,” the operator called out.
“Boston, Mass,” I offered. “I’m unsure of the city, actually. The listing is Harbor Breeze Care Facility.”
“That’s in Revere, hold for your number.”
So I did.
* * *
After I’d made the call, my thoughts rampaged. For the first time in my life, I’d known who I was with Kane. Even if for a little while, I’d known. It was the first time I’d felt real my whole life. Now, he was gone. I was truly alone. And I didn’t know what to do. I wanted him back. So very badly.
Finally, sleep overcame me. Corinne’s face appeared before me as I closed my eyes, almost like a ghost from a Charles Dickens novel. Her eyes flashed fury, dripped with icy blue frost, and her brows plowed together as she drew close to me, staring, damning my soul. Threatening to lock me away in an asylum. I think she wanted to haunt me, truly. I forced my eyes to stay shut. Forced her vision to leave. Forced sleep.
I drifted then, in and out of nightmares and the past and under beds and in cubbyholes and in dank dirty kitchen cabinets. Visions of that night flashed before me like an old movie projector, faces pale, angry, screaming. And the blood.
“No!” I screamed with my eyes shut. My lips were numb, my heart raced wildly against my ribs and, despite the cold in the hall, I poured sweat across my brow. Tears flowed from my eyes, and I sobbed. “No! Please! Don’t lock me in an asylum! I’m not bad! I…I am not psychotic! Please, grandmother!”
