This Body (28 page)

Katharine was annoyed, but she also knew what Robert was talking about. She had wondered about it too. What things would her
own children accuse her of?

I was too hard on them. I was too easy on them. They're too uptight. They're too easygoing. My fault. My fault
.

Maybe they would blame the rest of their lives on her death.

“So, Thisby,” Anne said, too casually after her long silence. “Have you had a chance to make an appointment with Dr. Mantle?”

Yeah, they want to believe that everything's hunky-dory, but they want the added insurance. Now they're grasping at control
when it's too late. Too late for Thisby anyway
.

“It's a week from today. I made the appointment all by myself.” Even to her own ears, she sounded like a sullen sixteen-year-old.

It had been a strange call. The receptionist had been very pleasant in the initial stages of their exchange. “Actually, we
have a cancellation next week. This always happens in August, what with vacations and so on. Now you say you're a former patient
of Dr. Mantle?”

The phone line iced over when Katharine gave her Thisby's name.

“Could I put you on hold? I need to check this appointment with Dr. Mantle. He might have a conflict.” She was gone a long
time. “Miss Bennet? The doctor says he will see you.”

Oh, goody
. But Katharine would go. She would see it through. She kept her word. Dr. Mantle for the exhibit. She hoped it would be the
final task, the final payment.
These three
. The first had been to agree to the exhibit, the second to go to Ashland, the third to see Mantle.

And the old saying is The third pays for all
.

Katharine could sense that Anne was skeptical whether Katharine had really called Mantle — or if she did, why she had acquiesced
so easily. Katharine was worried why she had done it so soon too.
The third may pay for all, but
… Was it really that? Or was it just to get it over with? There was also a nagging in her brain that she really did want
to see him, to see a shrink. Did she think he could help her? That maybe she could talk to him, tell him all? That maybe he
could stabilize the swings she was going through — of who she was, of what she wanted, of who she wanted?

Spending the night at the Bennets, and in Thisby's bed, surrounded by her childhood things, her parents securing the house
downstairs, Katharine couldn't help but somehow feel — even when she was irritated at them — connected to them.
Isn't that what family is — connection
?

Katharine was beginning to realize that the connections for Thisby were not strong. She did not receive her signals straight;
she processed them differently and got a lot of them wrong.
Or skewed
. The family thought she didn't get the subtleties of Shakespeare, but she did — she just saw them differently. She did know
better, as she always wrote, but she didn't know enough.

The world according to Thisby. It makes me sad
.

So what about Katharine's own world? What were her plans now, her strategies, her goals?

She thought she knew. She used to know. She would use Thisby and her family to get back to her own family.

I still want that, but the only thing I can imagine is the way we were. Things aren't the way they were, are they? Not for
me. Not for anyone
.

She felt as though she were on one of those airport walkways. But she was trying to go against the flow, the ramp rushing
her forward faster than she could run backward.

And I have no idea what awaits me at the end of the line
.

Act 4, Scene 1

You speak not as you think. It cannot be.

— H
ERMIA
,
Midsummer Night's Dream
, 3.2.191

Katharine had to force herself to get out of the car, stand up, and walk, almost reaching out for Goodfellow's arm to steady herself.

She hadn't been to the Dentons' house in years, and it looked different. Katharine noticed that the willow in front of True's
bedroom had gotten bigger, and there were tiered brick planter boxes along the front of the house where Emily had finally
replaced those awful evergreens —
like the ones Diana has
— with a full-color range of New Guinea impatiens.

True opened the front door. “Hey, what are you doing here? The party's tomorrow.”

“Out of my way, Young Denton.” Puck pushed past him. “Your mother invited us.”

They went through the living room and the family room and into the kitchen too quickly for Katharine to see what changes had
been made. Emily was at the counter dicing onions. She looked the same. It was almost a disappointment. Katharine felt that
somehow Emily should look different — more gray, more bowed from having lost a sister-in-law and gained a new one in less
than a year. But she still had the Ashley hair, curls spilling all over her head in so many different shades of blond, brunette,
and auburn that gray would be embarrassed to show up. She wasn't thinner or fatter, or younger or older. Just Emily.

Katharine shook her hand. Had she ever shook hands with Emily before? Probably not. The first time they met, Emily had hugged
Katharine. Katharine had been seeing Philip for a while, and they had already talked about marriage. Emily seemed to have
been well acquainted with that. And well pleased.

“Thanks for having us.”

She could hear Goodfellow behind her asking True, “So, who's here?” and True answering, “Oh, you know. All the players. Griff
Mill, June.” There was an implied “hubba hubba” in the way he said her name. “Even Thisby knows …”

True's words faded as Katharine's ear picked up another voice and seized on it. “Aunt Em, we need more guacamole.”

Katharine suppressed the urge to laugh, as she knew hysteria wasn't far behind. What would start out as a chuckle, then a
huff in her stomach like a bellows, would grow into a howling.

The gods must be crazy, and they're having a shitload of fun with me
.

The voice belonged to Marion, and for the first time, Thisby's body felt like it was Katharine's very own.

Now I know I've got a heart, because I can feel it breaking
.

Katharine turned around and feasted. It had been twelve months dead and six weeks alive —
sort of
— since Katharine had looked at her daughter. Marion was tanned, and her brown hair was streaked with startling blond.
It must be all that time in the sun at the … club
. She couldn't tell if Marion had grown any taller, but she had certainly filled out more, having lost the boyish frame to
feminine curves. She was in blue-and-green plaid shorts and a white T-shirt with the slogan of some tennis tournament on it.
She wasn't wearing any makeup, whereas a year ago she had been experimenting with foundation and lipstick and all the eye
stuff. Katharine also saw that Marion's fingernails were natural; again, a year ago she had spent hours each night changing
polish to match the next day's outfit. But Katharine noticed that Marion's toenails were painted candy-apple red — the same
color as Emily's.

True came alongside Marion, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her off balance. She almost dropped the bowl she was carrying.

“Aunt Em!” she protested.

True let go of her, brought his hands up to his face, and wiggled them over his cheeks in glee. “Auntie Em, Auntie Em,” he
screeched in the witch's voice. He smoothed out his features, straightened up, and spoke to Puck and Katharine. “This is my
cousin, Marion, from up north. She's nothing but trouble, but I gotta put up with her.”

Marion gave him her if-looks-could-kill face, which he successfully ignored.

Oh, look at me that way
!

“This is RB,” True told Marion.

Puck held out his hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Marion.”

Marion looked up into his face with shy admiration.

“And this is my sister Thisby.”

Katharine stepped forward, and her entire body shook from the need to gather Marion in her arms. “Hi” was all she could say,
and she kept her hand down, not convinced it wouldn't do something stupid.

“Come on outside,” True commanded. “There's a helluva lot of stuff to drink and eat.”

Not without my daughter
. But Marion neatly stepped around Katharine to the counter, and she and Emily started talking. True took Katharine by the
arm and led her outside. She forced herself not to jerk away from him and flee back to the kitchen.

True introduced her around. There were a couple of people from Puck's party to whom Thisby nodded, but as soon as Puck and
True were engaged in conversation, she drifted back to the kitchen.

Marion was sitting on the counter, her feet tucked up under her Indian-style, her hands resting on her knees. Emily was cutting
up tomatoes for the guacamole. Katharine stood just inside the back door and watched them. Marion seemed to be telling Emily
about some guy at the club and this other girl who liked him but he didn't like her and Marion thought he might like her,
which was okay because she thought he was pretty cute too and he was one of the best players on their summer interclub team
and they might get to play together as a mixed doubles team, though she wasn't nearly good enough to be partners with him
but maybe they could play for fun. …

Marion talking to Emily. Well, I guess nothing's changed here
.

Emily noticed her standing there, so Katharine came quickly into the kitchen. “I thought I'd come see if you needed any help.”

“No, I think we're pretty well squared away here. I'll be done with this in a second.”

Marion was beginning to unfold her legs.

Don't go
! “So, where are you from?” Katharine said it so quickly, she wondered whether Marion could even understand her.

“South of San Francisco. Sunnyvale.”

Katharine nodded. “Just visiting?”

“Well, I was hoping to get into a tennis tournament too, but I didn't get accepted.”

Katharine gestured to Marion's T-shirt. “Was that a tournament you were in?”

Marion looked down and pulled the shirt away from her waist as if to read it for the first time. “Yeah. I even won a couple
of rounds, but then I got bageled big time.”

“Bageled?” Emily asked.

“Yeah, you know.” She held her hand up and made a zero with her thumb and forefinger. “I lost six-love, six-love.”

Mulwray didn't tell me this
. “But it's good you won a couple of rounds, isn't it?”

“Sure. I'm even better now, now that I can play at this club we joined. I'm gonna win a lot more.”

A lump lodged in Katharine's throat, and Emily handed Marion the bowl of guacamole. She hopped down in one fluid motion and
took it outside.

Katharine turned to go outside after Marion, but Emily stopped her. “So, Thisby, what do you do?”

Katharine turned back reluctantly.

Live off the sales I made drug running and fuck drug lords in my spare time. You wouldn't mind if your niece spends some quality
time with me, would you
?

“I'm preparing an exhibit of my photographs.”

“Are you? That sounds wonderful. Here in LA?”

“Yes. A gallery on Melrose. The Ziegfeld-Zelig.”

Emily nodded, though Katharine thought not out of recognition. Katharine didn't remember that Emily was much of a gallery-goer.
“What kind of pictures do you take?”

“Well, they're a little hard to explain. Did you ever get that magazine
Highlights for Children
when you were a kid?”

Emily thought for a moment, and then her face brightened. “No, but my eye doctor did.”

“Okay. There was always a puzzle game, called Hidden Pictures, where you had to find, say, the outline of kitchen appliances
hidden in a drawing of a forest scene or barnyard animals in a cityscape.”

Emily laughed. “The knot on the tree trunk was also the lid of a pot? I remember desperately trying to do that one just after
my pupils had been dilated, and I couldn't see a thing.”

“Yeah. Well, the photographs are a bit like that.”

“Umm. I was never very good at that puzzle, even when I could see.” Emily wiped down the counter.

I was great at it. Hidden Pictures was my favorite game
.

“Well, make sure you send us an invitation. We'd love to come.”

Hank Denton walked into the kitchen with two grocery bags in his arms. Katharine suddenly realized she hadn't noticed his
absence — and she had always liked Hank.

“Okay, I got wine, two more six-packs of sodas, limes, and another thingie of orange juice. The limes aren't very big, but
that's all they had.” He put the groceries down on the counter and turned toward Katharine, halting in his self-introduction
as if something had thrown him off. Katharine could see him mentally shake his head, and then his face cleared so completely,
she thought she hadn't really seen anything at all. “Hi, I'm Hank Denton, True's dad.”

“I'm Thisby Bennet, RB's sister.”

“Oh, yeah, right. He's got another sister, doesn't he? One with a weird name?”

Katharine laughed. “It's Quince. But I think we all have weird names.”