The Grey Door Page 4

  “Are you okay?”

  “You broke my heart, Grace. What do you want me to say? That I’m fine?”

  Blaming her for his foul mood wasn’t what she needed. “Maybe we should talk another time when you’re not so—”

  “Angry? Yeah, maybe. I’ll call you.” The >click< at the other end of the phone stung.

  “Feeling better now?” Her voice filled the room. “Much better,” she told herself.

  When her cell phone rang, she let it ring. “Nah-ah, Jess,” she said, watching the light flash. “I will not tolerate manipulation.”

  CHAPTER 4

  ARLENE PRATT

  A rlene wandered down J Street, looking this way and that. Every now and then she stopped to scratch her armpit or blow her nose, oblivious to the stares and unkind comments. In her world, there were no creepy crawly things, no fuzzy wuzzy things. Her world consisted of even tones and blasé. The connection to caring and loving had been severed. She felt nothing, like a song without a tune. It was one continuous hum, day in and day out. She managed. Do what you’re told. Take your medicine. Keep appointments.

  ***

  Lately, for Grace, skipping lunch had become a habit. When Arlene Pratt arrived, Grace’s stomach grumbled, reminding her that noon had come and gone. She slipped a Saltine from a wax sheath in the cupboard, shoved it in her mouth, and washed it down with sips of cold coffee.

  “Come on back, Arlene,” she said, rounding the corner of the front desk. “How are you doing today?” she asked, distracted by the pasty wheat between her teeth. Her tongue searched the inside of her mouth. She brushed a crumb from her breast.

  “Misty took all my crackers,” Arlene complained, spittle spraying from her twisted lips. Grace swallowed the last bit of paste she retrieved from her molars. Arlene stood close, watching her.

  “Remind me, who Misty is again?” Grace asked, wiping offensive droplets from her arm with her other sleeve.

  “My neighbor. We go to the movies. She smells like dead meat.”

  “Oh yes, I remember now. She’s the woman with the pretty car.” Arlene scratched her head. The words pretty car seem to erase any negative thoughts.

  “It’s okay. She likes crackers,” Arlene said candidly.

  “How is work?” Grace settled in her chair and crossed her legs.

  “Okay,” the woman said, mimicking the therapist by lifting one chubby leg over the other.

  Grace observed Arlene’s behavior, noting that she seemed sober today. The combination of gin and Seroquel could send her into a rant so that she’d want to kill anyone who looked at her sideways. She tried to conceal her passion for martinis with a heavy dose of Tabu, but Grace was wise to her. Her childhood was filled with the recollection of doctor’s wives using the same scent to cover their weakness for Tanqueray.

  Grace had to admit, Arlene had good reason to feel hatred. At the age of twelve, Arlene was present when her parents were bludgeoned to death during a home invasion robbery. There were no convictions.

  Arlene and her younger sister had been brutally beaten, raped, and sodomized. Arlene became pregnant, and though she tried desperately to cope, in her last trimester she lost the battle when she found her sister hanging in their bedroom closet, a belt wrapped around her neck. Arlene went into labor that day and gave birth to a son. According to Arlene’s medical records, her mind “snapped the moment she heard her baby cry.”

  “Anything in particular you want to talk about today, Arlene?”

  The woman was required to attend therapy sessions. The state wanted to make sure she was still “crazy” enough to receive her medication on their dime. She had never lived a normal life. At thirty-one, the same age as Grace, Arlene appeared as if she were in her late fifties, and she had the mind of an adolescent. There was no getting better. There was only status quo and getting worse. As long as Arlene stayed on her meds and avoided too many martinis, she was able to function and even work a few hours a week. Her mind held speckled memories, not all of which she wanted to talk about, but one thing was very clear to Grace, Arlene adored her sister.

  “Adelle’s birthday is tomorrow,” Arlene announced, her face void of emotion.

  “Tell me about your sister,” Grace consoled. “How did she like to spend her birthday?”

  “She liked pink cake with pink candles.” Arlene’s body trembled for a moment, but she didn’t cry.

  “What else did she like?” Grace asked tenderly.

  “She liked when I tickled her. She liked bubbles in the purple jar. She liked Pop-Tarts. I like those too!” Like the pretty car, the random memory made her feel good. “We used to sneak ’em into our bedroom and hide ’em under the bed. We’d eat ’em late at night when my mom and dad were sleeping. When I got the curse, me and Adelle ate the whole box.”

  “Curse?”

  “You know, the menses curse. That’s what Auntie Karen calls it.”

  “Oh yes, menstruation.” Suddenly Grace was compelled to check the calendar on her desk. She continued talking, hiding her panic. “Do you still go to the cemetery on Adelle’s birthday?” she asked. A nauseating feeling came over her as she flipped the pages of the calendar back and forth. She sank back down into her chair. Nothing you can do about it now. Focus.

  “I go at ten in the morning. That’s when Adelle was born,” Arlene announced proudly. But then her smile turned into a frown as she said, “He broke her nose.”

  Grace jolted upright. “Who broke whose nose?”

  “That boy broke Adelle’s nose. She said she wasn’t a pretty, birthday girl anymore. I got to blow out the candles.” Arlene began rummaging through her purse. She didn’t notice her therapist had turned pale.

  Grace couldn’t respond right away. Tiny Burton? No. It had to be a coincidence. “I pushed her down on the floor and started beatin’ her. I wanted her to stop lookin’ at me. I heard her nose break.”

  “Arlene, do you remember the boy that broke Adelle’s nose?”

  “I didn’t want to look at him.” She held her purse tight to her chest. “He was fat.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Adelle told me!” she said emphatically. “Birthday girls don’t lie. My Auntie Karen told me that.”

  “She’s right. Birthday girls don’t lie.” Acid churned in Grace’s stomach. She wanted to flee. She looked at the clock. Three more hours to go.

  ***

  By the time Grace arrived home, she was exhausted. Sneaky greeted her at the door, wagging her tail, needing to go out. Once the dog was in the backyard, Grace ran upstairs to change. Arlene’s words had been pounding in her brain all afternoon: He broke her nose. She shuddered while hanging her suit in the closet. Slipping on a pair of khaki shorts, a black tank top, and flip-flops, Grace hurried to return downstairs.

  She shook two aspirin from the bottle on the counter and poured herself a glass of iced tea. Her head hurt. Her heart hurt. She swallowed the pills and reached for the paper bag containing items she picked up at the pharmacy on her way home. She mulled over her receipt, annoyed her co-pay barely dented the cost of her Xanax. When she reached in to pull out the next item, the phone rang, interrupting her mission.

  “How did things go?” Sal’s tone, motherly.

  “I barely managed without you. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. I came home, threw up a few times. Grossed out my son, Buns. He had a friend over. Jeez! You’d think I committed a crime the way he carried on!”

  “Eww,” Grace teased.

  “Wait till you have kids!” Sal rebuked, but Grace’s humor fell flat as she removed the box from the pharmacy bag. Skimming the directions, her mind drifted away. Plus for positive. Minus for negative. I’m never late. We were careful. How?

  Sal’s chatter caught up with her. “How would you like to go on a double date?”

  Grace set the box down and wiped her sweaty palm on her shorts.

  “Sal, I’m not ready.”

  “It’s not a date-date. W
e just don’t want this guy to feel like a third wheel. You know John; he can’t keep his hands off of me,” she giggled.

  “Who’s the guy?” Grace asked, turning her back on the box, wishing it away.

  “John’s sister’s husband’s cousin.”

  “Your brother-in-law’s cousin?”

  “Close enough!”

  “Ok, tell me—”

  “He’s cute, very cute!”

  “But—”

  “No buts. He’s short. Not real short; you’ll need to wear flats.”

  “Sal!”

  “You’ll like him, Grace. He’s a dentist, He’s nice. Very cute; he’s just short.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a play.”

  “The theater?” Grace groaned.

  “Yes, Cats. John got tickets from his boss. They’re good seats. You’ll love it. Say yes.”

  “I can’t say no to Cats, but it’s not fair to manipulate me like that.”

  “I know. You’ll get over it.”

  “If you say so,” Grace sighed. “Okay, I’ll go as a favor to you, but I have to get off the phone. Sneaky is in the backyard.

  “Great! Tuesday, six p.m. See you tomorrow.”

  Grace hung up the phone, grabbed her iced tea and went outside. She would think about the box later.

  Sneaky was watching a squirrel shimmy up a tree. The squirrel scolded Sneaky for being in its space, but the dog remained unaffected. She seemed fascinated with the creature.

  “C’mere Sneaky,” Grace called.

  A voice said, “Hi.”

  Graced jumped. The dog barked and came at Jess, her jaws drawn. Grace intercepted.

  “Sneaky, No!” she shouted. “Sit!” she commanded.

  Grace grabbed the dog by the collar.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Jess shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “I came to— I thought that dog was trained?”

  “Sneaky is trained. She didn’t tear your face off, did she?”

  “Can we start over? I came to apologize.”

  Grace withdrew hands from her hips.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, “We better sit out here, though. You seem to be upsetting everyone today.” She started for the back door, Sneaky in tow. Before she entered, she turned back and saw Jess checking out the yard. He seemed preoccupied.

  “What’s up girl” She patted Sneaky’s flank, feeling the hum beneath the dog’s silky fur. “Why don’t you like Jess?” The dog growled and barked.

  “I know he’s not Garret, but he’s my friend. You need to respect that.”

  The dog’s eyebrows danced around before settling in a prone position.

  “Are we clear?”

  A quiet woof preceded a raised paw. Grace shook the dog’s paw to seal the deal and went back outside.

  “Did you give her a bone or something?” Jess asked.

  Grace wondered why the sarcasm.

  “We have an agreement, but don’t push her. She needs to get to know you better.”

  “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll have her eating out of my hand in no time.”

  “It’s a matter of trust. She’s not a jury you can win over with charm.”

  “Good analysis.”

  “Touché.”

  The conversation went dry until deep blue saturated the sky. A crescent of light cradled a dark orb, a bright star twinkled nearby. When red and gold melted into the horizon, Grace leaned against Jess’s shoulder. He patted her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls,” she said. “I’ve been depressed. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Jess.”

  “It hurts me more to know you can’t talk to me.”

  “I’m not sure how to say this.” Grace’s eyes filled with tears. Jess drew her close. “I hadn’t been able to connect with anyone but you until Garret came along. I liked him the first time I met him a couple of years ago, but I held back. He wasn’t you. And then when the stalking began, I got to know him better. I felt something different from what I felt for you.”

  “Different?” Jess asked. “Different how?”

  Grace broke from his embrace to rise. “It felt like I had a future. Can you understand that?”

  Jess stood to face her.

  “I’m trying to,” he said. But Grace wasn’t convinced he was telling the truth. She noticed how his hands balled up at his sides. His jaw clenched. He seemed like he wanted to smash something.

  She backed away.

  “So, I blew it! If I hadn’t married Jenna—”

  “Jess, please don’t—”

  “Why not? If I had followed my heart instead of my head, we would be talking about what to have for dinner. We’d be tucking the kids in bed. The freaking dog would’ve been happy to see me!” Grace held her ground.

  “How can I expect you to understand? I really don’t understand it myself. All I know is that when Garret was shot, a part of me wanted to die. How could I tell you?” The tears welling in her eyes streamed down her cheeks. Silence fell between them.

  “Guess I’d better work on being a better listener,” he said.

  “Me too,” she agreed, wiping her eyes. “How did dinner go with Jenna?”

  “Great! She wants everything. She gets half. I agreed to alimony until she remarries, just to be nice.”

  “Does she have someone in mind?”

  “Who knows?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Good thing you have a good friend to help you through all of this.”

  “Friend with benefits?”

  “Don’t push it!”

  “Push what?”

  She whacked him. They laughed. For the moment, it felt like old times.

  ***

  The next morning Grace ignored the small box sitting on her counter. Stress is the reason I’m late, she convinced herself. She checked the clock. Her appointment with Dr. Meltz was in fifteen minutes. No time. Don’t want to be—late, she sighed. I need to get in a session before seeing clients.

  She arrived in Dr. Meltz’s office promptly at seven-thirty. After discussing her lack of sleep and her sudden disinterest in glazed donuts, Grace began to recap her visit with Jess the previous night.

  “Where does Jess fit into the mix?” Dr. Meltz asked.

  “I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

  “If I remember correctly, you had a crush on him in college?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What happened?”

  “In college, we flirted like crazy, but nothing ever happened between us. We were friends. He married someone else.”

  “Were friends?”

  “We still are, except the ‘nothing ever happened’ happened.”

  “You had sex with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “During the time I was being stalked by Candy, Jess separated from his wife. I felt vulnerable, I guess.” Her voice trailed. She focused on the ornate lamp perched on the doctor’s mahogany desk. Silence, a lead balloon, settled in the dark paneled room. Blood rushed through her ears.

  “I’ll be honest with you, Gracie, you don’t strike me as a person who puts out because they’re freaking out about something, especially to a married man. Let’s talk about your feelings for Jess.”

  When Grace could no longer avoid Dr. Meltz’s stare, she spoke. “After he graduated, he got married. I used to fantasize about him. I imagined what it would be like to be his wife, have his children. As the years went by, the fantasies were less frequent. I grew up. I moved on.”

  “Really?” Dr. Meltz wasn’t one to be fooled.

  “When we talked on the phone…he turned me on. It had nothing to do with our conversations, it was just him. It was just me.”

  “I get it. T
ell me more.”

  “There’s not a lot more to tell. He moved to Sacramento a few months ago. We got together for a drink. I went home alone. I— I moved on.” She could feel her face flush.

  Dr. Meltz rocked in his chair and waited patiently.

  “I didn’t know he was going to leave his wife. That came as a surprise.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought he was happily married! He never indicated otherwise.”

  “So, it wasn’t love at first sight after all?”

  “I thought it was, until—”

  “Until, what? Until he loved you back?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure if you loved him?” he asked. “Or not sure if you loved him until he loved you back?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

  “I think you do know.”

  “When I met Garret, my feelings began to change.”

  “Change? How?”

  “I would get butterflies when Garret looked at me a certain way or got too close to me. I found myself laughing for no reason. I got a dog!”

  “You got a dog? It must be love!” Dr. Meltz’s sarcasm hit home, remembering how she hid behind her dad whenever Dr. Meltz brought his dogs along on his visits.

  “I was beginning to fall in love with Garret.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just knew! Don’t we know, Dr. Meltz? Don’t we just know?” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. The words that spilled out didn’t feel like hers. They came from a place she had never been before. “Okay, I thought I was in love with Jess. I had never met anyone who made me feel the way he did. He made me feel so special. He’s kind, considerate… controlling.”

  The word controlling popped out of her mouth like a hiccup. Dr. Meltz lifted one eyebrow.

  “He’s controlling, Dr. Meltz. Once we had sex, he acted as if I was his property. I didn’t like that.”

  “Did you talk to him about how you felt?”

  “Not really. Maybe,” her voice weakened. “I don’t know.”

  Dr. Meltz waited to hear more.

  “Everything was happening so fast. I wanted to feel loved. Someone was threatening my life. If it ended, I wanted to know what it was like to make love to the man I had fantasized about for the last ten years.”