Abithica (4 page)

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Other than the fact that I’m here in your house, and I was somewhere eating mackerel, which I detest. I don’t even know your name. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, Sydney Turner, that does it. You’re going to the E.R. You must have struck your head, or maybe one of those drug things got to you. She took my hand and started tugging. “Come on. Let’s not waste a minute!”

E.R.? Emergency room? Needles and tests and more questions I couldn’t answer?

“No!” I swung my legs out of the bed, but they were wobbly and I had to blink my eyes rapidly to keep everything in focus. I was losing control again, just as if I was going through another switch.

“Sydney, honey, what is going on? You don’t look so good.”

Her voice sounded far away. I struggled to bring it back, suddenly winning the contest. “I’m fine. Just don’t take me anywhere and don’t call anybody. I just need rest, that’s all.”

“What if you’re sick? What if you have amnesia? What if it’s a brain tumor? How can you expect me not to do anything? I’m your mother.” She started tugging on my arm again. “Come on, you definitely need help.”

I let her drag me down a concrete hallway strewn with the longest Indian rug I’d ever seen. Definitely custom made. I felt guilty even walking on it. The walls were entirely dark adobe blocks I accidentally brushed up against. Ouch!

Wait, Sydney was back. I could feel her gloating from whatever spot she’d gone to in my psyche. She
wanted
Faith to take me to a doctor. She wanted it bad. Was she hoping he’d pry me out like a farmer digging out a gopher? Was that even possible? What would happen to me if it worked? Never in my sketchy remembered past had I switched into someone so obviously vicious, so… so venomous. The more I learned about her, the dirtier I felt. It was time to get tough.

“I don’t need a doctor. You can’t make me go!” I dug in my heels and jammed to a stop.

“But—”

“I’ll handle this my own way.”

“Oh, and you have done such a
stellar
job at that in the past! Look at you. Look where your independence has gotten you. For the first time in my life, I want to help you, so please let me.”

“Look… I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I’m sorry I’ve put you in such an awkward position, but you have to trust me. Doctors are so not the answer to my problems. I absolutely refuse to go, and that’s final!”

A cedar chest stood by the front door. She sighed, sitting on it and staring into space. “My name’s Faith.”

“Faith. Okay, look… Faith… let’s try it my way first. If I get a fever or some other sign of physical illness, I’ll let you take me to the hospital, but only then. Agreed?”

“Do I have a choice? By the way, you smell pretty bad. Go have yourself a nice long shower. Maybe it’ll help. There’s a change of clothes sitting on the bathroom sink.”

What a relief! Of course it would help. It would give me a little more time to think. There had to be some way out of this situation. My handling of Claire and Tom had gone like oiled silk, once I’d switched into her… well, until the very end at least. So, as my reward God had changed the whole game to something a lot tougher. I should have known when he threw mackerel into the pot.

Even though I couldn’t remember much about my previous switches, it seemed my purpose was to correct human relationships one way or another, even though I ended up acting more like a parasite than a helper. Maybe parasite wasn’t the word. Maybe it was catalyst, or mechanism, or channel. Whatever it was, it involved me, but clearly I didn’t belong in the end product.

This time it looked like my role was to reconcile Sydney with Faith, but that was looking more impossible by the moment. There really wasn’t much I liked about Sydney, and she probably didn’t like much about me. She’d no more change her ways than a leopard could change its spots, and then where would Faith be?

A few hints from the almighty “mackerel man” would be nice!

The pile of clothes, right where Faith said, had a delicate, yellow eyelet blouse with a lacy collar on top. Not a speck of black anywhere. Faith had even thought to include a pair of sandals that actually fit when I put them on. I’d felt I was bigger than she was, back there in Gillie’s, but it was probably the spike heels I’d been wearing. Thankfully, I hadn’t wobbled too badly on my way out.

I wondered what other features Sydney had inherited from Faith besides the shoe size and small frame. There was a full length mirror on the back of the door. I took a deep breath, then stepped in front of it. Surprise! I was somewhere in my late teens or early twenties. My hair was another surprise, reminding me of a dandelion and making me laugh. No wonder Faith kept trying to tuck it behind my ears. It wouldn’t stay… too much gel. Just bounced back into place like a spring. Then there was the smeared black eyeliner, way too heavy. I looked somewhat like a raccoon, but not for long. I quickly found how to remove the gold hoop pinned through my lower lip and practically leapt into the shower.

Although steam filled the room, I turned the dial a little hotter and scrubbed until my skin turned pink and my hair squeaked. Then I scrubbed again. By the time I finished, my legs and underarms were smooth, all the makeup had been removed and I could easily run my fingers through my hair. All in all, Sydney had a good deal of potential, plus a good shape. I imagined the kind of men she’d attract if only she could throw away the lip rings and other Goth decorations. No chance of her meeting anyone decent until then.

Faith was in the kitchen, preparing lunch. Wow! Her kitchen was amazing—no expense spared. With state-of-the-art appliances, adobe walls, and wood ceilings, it had a rustic elegance that would make even Martha Stewart envious. There were seven massive tree trunks across her ceiling. I stared at one right over my head.

“They’re called vigas,” she explained, unloading the dishwasher. “In the old days they were load-bearing beams. Now they’re more decorative than anything else.”

I was still looking up, so I didn’t see her approach until her fingers were touching my damp hair. A very motherly gesture. Worlds apart from how I had caressed Claire’s husband’s hair. There was
nothing
motherly about that! It should have been Claire, draped all over him and rubbing against him like a teenager in heat, but I wasn’t so sure. Had it been her—or me—behaving like that? Either way, the experience was humiliating, and Faith was making me feel the same way all over again. When she stepped away, she must have realized my dismay.

“Sorry to embarrass you,” she said, “but I haven’t seen you look like yourself since you were a little girl. I’ve put you through so much since then, and here you are giving us a second chance together.”

What could I say? She had to understand that this was all conditional. I needed to figure out a plan before I did anything else. Besides, I’d begun to like her. My concerns were growing.

“Look, Faith, I needed to sleep… and you gave me a bed and a roof over my head. I can’t promise anything beyond that right now. I’m sorry.”

“I see. You’re still absorbing what I told you over dinner, aren’t you?”

“Dinner? No, I… look at me and try to understand. I don’t remember
anything
before my head landed in my plate of food. Nothing. Not one thing.”

“That’s why I think you ought to go to the… well, we don’t have to talk about it right now.” She sighed. “Can’t we just pretend… for awhile… that you met me at the restaurant because you wanted to, not because I had news to tell you?”

“That’ll work.” I nodded. “No questions asked, just two women getting to know each other for the first time. How’s that sound?”
Another piece of the puzzle. Wonder what news she’s talking about.
“Smells good. What are you making?”

“I hope you like fish,” she said, with a mysterious glint in her eyes. “It’s a special recipe of mine. Steven simply
loves
it.”

Fish? Oh, no! I wasn’t quick enough to hide my sudden revulsion, sagging into one of the yellow chairs. A heartbeat later she burst out laughing. Not just any laugh, but a full-fledged belly laugh that started at her toes.

“Oh, I’m
so
bad,” she said, catching her breath. “I shouldn’t tease you, but you should have seen those three women at the restaurant. They acted like they’d never…” She fought back one last giggle. “…but after seeing how much fun it was for you, I bet they’re all itching to make up some mashed potatoes and try it. Can’t you just see them reading the instructions on the box? They probably haven’t cooked anything in years.”

There was definitely something “off” about this woman, but then again, there was something “off” about me, too. Maybe that’s why I found her so comforting. I tried not to giggle.

“Faith, it
wasn’t
fun for me, and they didn’t seem the type.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, honey. Haven’t you ever noticed that the stuffier people are, the wilder their private lives? It’s true. People show one side of themselves to cover up another. Take a mean person, for example. More times than not, deep down they’re screaming for a hug.”

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“Nope. I’m still selling shoes, but now I’m the best. I have a whole fleet of clientele that will only buy from me. I’m thinking of opening my own store some day.” She placed a bowl of steaming hot chili and a tall glass of iced tea in front of me. I stared at the chili, looking for possible chunks of fish. “All the world’s problems can be solved with the perfect shoe,” she continued, taking the chair across from me. “Take John McCain, for instance. He lost that election to Obama, but no wonder. Did you ever check out those clod-hoppers McCain wore? He called himself a maverick, but if he’d actually been one, he’d have sported a slick pair of cowboy boots, with silver trimmings. It was so obvious I almost called him about it.”

“Is this some sort of ‘dress for success’ philosophy of yours?” I swallowed my first taste of her chili. It was really good.

She put her spoon down and scooted to the very edge of her chair. “Let’s take you, Sydney. What do
you
want more than anything else in the world?”

Of course, she asked the one question that could catch me off guard. “To be loved” was the answer I could have screamed at the top of my lungs, but I pulled back from that particular abyss by taking another spoonful of chili.

“Security?” I finally said.

“Security. Okay, then from today forward, wear nothing but lace-ups. It can be tennis shoes or lace up boots, it doesn’t really matter, as long as the laces are pulled tight at all times and double knotted. After you’re done eating, I have a pair of tennis shoes you can change into.”

I glanced at what she was wearing, delicate gold sandals that wrapped around her ankles. “I take it you’re looking for love?”

Why did she suddenly look sad?

“
Very
good! That was close, but actually I’m trying my damnedest to keep the love I already…” She paused, suddenly turned and stared at the front door as if she had some sort of X-ray vision. I hadn’t heard anything, but a moment later her doorbell rang. Rang wasn’t exactly the term for it. Sang would have fit better. It was Elvis, singing a line from “Blue Suede Shoes.”

“Now who could that be?” She sighed. “I don’t get many visitors, living way out here.” She scooted from the table before Elvis sang a third time. I could see her front door without moving from my chair. When it was partly open, she hesitated as if she wanted to shut it again, but couldn’t because a pair of grimy hands clutched the doorframe on both jambs. Their owner had a shaved head with a red bull’s eye tattooed on one side. He was in black leather, head to toe, wearing a not-too-friendly expression. A biker! All he’d need to complete the picture would be a spiked mace on a chain, or maybe some gold chains around his neck. Yikes! I was glad he was out there and not inside, but then Faith opened the door wide. I shot to my feet. Was she crazy? There was no telling his reasons for being there, or who he might have with him, out of sight. He pushed her aside on his way in, stopping as soon as he saw me.

“There you are, you bitch!” His accent was thick. Australian? “You stood me up last night, and I don’t like gettin’ stood up.”

Faith stepped between us, but he brushed her aside like she was a child’s doll and grabbed me by the waist with both hands, pinning me against the wall. He was close enough for me to tell he was happy to see me, and I don’t mean by his expression. His tongue was in my mouth before I could ask who he was. I wanted to bite it, but then one of his filthy hands began covering everything it could reach.

I shoved as hard as I could. It was a good thing he didn’t expect that, because he was a mammoth of a man. Good Lord! I seriously doubted a bulldozer could budge him if he was ready and waiting for it. What hole had Sydney dragged this giant from?

“Hey, come ON, Bay-bee! I come out all this way to find you, even after you don’t show, and
this
is how you act? Shouldn’t I get something in return?” His hurt expression quickly turned to anger. Even the top of his head had turned red.

Don’t anger him, whatever you do.
“Who… who are you? I mean to me?” I almost wished I hadn’t asked, but another piece of the puzzle was coming together, in a way. This was certainly the type of man Sydney would find attractive, or vice versa.