'Of course. I'm just surprised. The second shoe hasn't dropped yet,' I muttered, wondering what scheme Gisselle was designing to make life more unbearable for everyone, especially me, at Greenwood.
The remainder of the week passed quickly and without incident. I didn't know whether being alone in the dorm and being responsible for taking care of her own basic needs was what exhausted her, but every morning when Kate finally wheeled her to the breakfast table, Gisselle looked half drugged. She sat there with her eyelids drooping and nibbled on something, barely paying any attention to the chatter around the table. She was usually the first to interrupt or to ridicule something someone else said.
Then on Friday Vicki stopped me in the corridor after science class to tell me she had heard that Gisselle had fallen asleep in remedial reading. I imagined Gisselle was too stubborn to admit that caring for herself was draining her of whatever energy she possessed. Toward the end of the day, I stopped her in the corridor.
'What is it?' she snapped. Fatigue made her even more irritable than usual.
'You can't go on like this, Gisselle. You're dozing in class, dozing at lunch, moping in your chair. You need help. Either take Samantha back in with you or move back with me,' I said.
The suggestion brought color to her face and perked her up.
'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' she replied in a voice loud enough to attract everyone nearby. 'You want me to be dependent, to have to scream for help whenever I want to brush my hair or my teeth. Well, I don't need you or darling Samantha in order to get myself around this school. I don't need anyone,' she added and whipped the wheels of her chair hard to push herself off. Even Kate was left standing with her mouth open.
'Well,' I said, shrugging, 'I'm glad she's trying to be independent. Let me know if she seems to be getting sick, though,' I told Kate, who nodded and then ran after Gisselle. I went on to my art class.
That night Beau phoned. I had been waiting anxiously for his call all week.
'I thought I would sneak away tomorrow and come up to Baton Rouge to see you, but my father has restricted my use of the car since Daphne had a talk with him and my mother. She told them about my taking you up to the institution.'
'And that made them that angry?'
'She said we disturbed Jean so much he has had to be given shock treatments.'
'Oh no. I hope it's a lie,' I cried.
'My father was furious, and then when she told them I was up in your room during the wake . . . I think she exaggerated what we were doing too.'
'How could she be so horrible?'
'Maybe she takes lessons,' Beau jested. 'Anyway, I expect my restriction will be lifted at holiday time. It's only another ten days, right?'
'Yes, but will your parents permit you to have anything whatsoever to do with me now?' I wondered aloud.
'We'll manage. There's no way anyone can keep me from seeing you when you're here,' he promised.
He asked me about school, and I told him about Gisselle and how she was making everyone's life as miserable as she could.
'You really have your hands full. It's not fair.'
'I made promises to my father,' I said. 'I have to try.'
'I overheard my father talking to my mother last night about Daphne,' Beau said. 'She and Bruce Bristow have made some drastic moves, foreclosing on some businesses and tenants to seize their property. My father said Pierre would never have been so cruel, even though it made good business sense.'
'I'm sure she's enjoying it. She has ice water running through her veins,' I told him. Beau laughed and described again how much he missed me, how much he loved me, and how much he looked forward to our being together. I could almost feel his lips on mine when he threw me a kiss through the phone.
When I returned to the quad, I half expected that Gisselle would be waiting for me in the lounge to interrogate me about the call, but she had the door to her room shut tight. Kate informed me that Gisselle had decided to go to sleep early. I thought about checking on her and reached for the doorknob, only to find she had locked the door. Surprised, I knocked gently.
'Gisselle?'
She didn't reply. Either she was already asleep or she was pretending to be.
'Are you all right?'
I waited, but there was no response. If that was the way she wanted it, I thought, that was the way it would be. I went to my own room to read and to write a letter to Paul before going to sleep. Miss Stevens and I had made a date to paint at the lake after breakfast the next day, and I was finally closing my eyes and looking forward to something again.
Saturday morning was beautiful. The December sky was more of a crystalline blue, even the clouds looking like glazed alabaster. Miss Stevens was already at the lakeside, setting up our easels. I saw she had spread out a blanket as well and had brought a picnic basket along. The lake itself had a silvery blue sheen. Although the sun was bright, the air felt cool and invigorating. Miss Stevens saw me approaching and waved.
'What a challenge it's going to be to mix paints to duplicate this color,' she said, looking out over the water. 'How are you?'
'Fine and eager,' I said, and we began. Once we got started, we both lost ourselves for a while in our work, the process itself absorbing us, seizing our minds. Often, would imagine myself to be one of the animals I painted in my settings, seeing the world from the eyes of a tern or a pelican, or even an alligator.
We both had our concentration broken by the sound of hammering and looked at the boathouse to see Buck Dardar pounding on a lawn-mower blade. He paused as if he could feel our gazes and looked our way for a moment before starting again.
