Obsession

in school.”

“What kind of details?”

“Financial. Financial security was a big thing for her. She told me about a trust fund she’d set up for my education when I was four. She thought I had no idea but I used to hear her talking to her broker over the phone. I pretended to be amazed. There were two life insurance policies with me as the sole beneficiary. She was proud of paying off the house, having no debts, between my job and the investments I’d be able to pay the property taxes and all the routine bills. She ordered me to sell my car-actually quoted me the blue-book value-and to keep hers because it was newer, would require less maintenance. She spelled out exactly how much I could spend per month, told me to get by with less if I could help it but always to dress well, appearances counted. Then there were all the phone numbers: broker, lawyer, accountant, plumber, electrician. She’d already contacted everyone, they were expecting to hear from me. I had to be in charge of my own life, now, and she expected I’d be mature enough to handle it. When she got to the part about selling her clothes at a garage sale or on eBay, I started crying and begged her to stop.”

“Did she?” I said.

“Tears always worked with Mommy. When I was little I took advantage of that.”

“All that planning for your future had to be overwhelming.”

“She’s going on about property tax and I’m like, ‘Soon, she’s not going to exist.’ It empowered her, Dr. Delaware, but it was tough. I had to recite back what I’d learned, like a pop quiz.”

“Knowing you understood was a comfort for her.”

“I hope so. I only wish we could’ve spent more time…that’s selfish, the key is to focus on the person who’s suffering, right?”

That sounded like a quote from a book.

“Of course.”

She hugged herself with one hand, kept the other on Blanche. Blanche licked her hand. Tanya started crying.

Pulling her hair loose, she freed a blond mane that she shook violently before reknotting and jamming in the chopsticks.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll get to the point. It was Friday night. I got to the hospital later than usual, because I had organic chem lab and a lot of studying. Mommy looked so weak, I couldn’t believe the change since the morning. Her eyes were shut, her skin was greenish gray, her hands were like packages of twigs. The fan rags were piled up all around her, it looked like she was being swallowed by paper. I started straightening. She opened her eyes and whispered something I couldn’t hear so I put my ear close to her mouth.”

Twisting a chopstick. “At first I couldn’t even feel her breath and I pulled away, panicked. But she was looking straight up at me, the light was still on inside. Do you remember her eyes? How sharp and dark they were? They were like that then, Dr. Delaware-focused, staring up at me, she was moving her lips but they were so dry she couldn’t get the sound out. I wet a towel and she made a little kissy pucker and I bent and she touched her lips to my cheek. Then somehow she managed to push up with her head to get closer so I leaned down farther. She got one hand behind my neck and pressed. I could feel her I.V. tubing tickling the back of my ear.” She looked away. “I need to walk around.”

Placing Blanche on the floor, she stood. Blanche trotted over and settled in my lap.

Tanya crossed the room twice, then returned to her chair but remained on her feet. A hank of hair fell loose, blocking one eye. Her chest heaved.

“Her breath was like ice. She started talking again-gasping the words. What she said was, ‘Did bad.’ Then she repeated it. I said you could never do anything bad. She hissed so loud it hurt my ear, said, ‘Terrible thing, baby,’ and I could feel her face tremble.”

Stretching the corners of her eyes, she let go, took a deep breath. “This is the part I didn’t tell you over the phone. She said, ‘Killed him. Close by. Know it. Know.’ I’m still trying to figure it out. There were no men in her personal life, so it couldn’t mean close as in a relationship. The only other thing I can think of is she was being literal. Someone who lived near us. I’ve been racking my brains to see if I can remember some neighbor dying in a weird way, and I can’t. Just before I came to see you, we were living in Hollywood and I remember hearing sirens all the time and once in a while some drunk would knock on the door, but that’s it. Not that I’d ever believe she could ever hurt someone deliberately.”

She sat down.

I said, “You don’t know what to believe.”

“You think this is totally crazy. I did, too. I resisted dealing with it. But I can’t let go of it. Not because of my tendencies. Because Mommy wanted me to learn the truth. That’s what she meant by ‘Know it.’ It was important to her that I understand because the whole last week she was ordering my future and this was part of it.”

I kept silent.

“Maybe it is crazy. But the least I can do is check it out. That’s why I thought maybe Detective Sturgis could run a computer search on the places we lived to see if something happened nearby and we’d learn nothing and that would be it.”

Child of the cyber-age. I said, “LAPD’s computer system is pretty primitive, but I’ll ask. Before we get into that, you might consider-”

“If I’m prepared to learn something horrible. The answer is no, not really, but I don’t believe Mommy actually killed someone. That would be totally insane. What I’m thinking is at the worst she was involved in some kind of accident that she blamed herself for and she wanted to make sure it didn’t come back on me. Like a legal claim. She wanted to make sure I was prepared.”

She sat forward, played with her hair, used a long thick swatch to cover her eyes, let it drop.

I said, “After she told you all this, what did you say?”

“Nothing, because she fell asleep. It was like she’d unburdened herself and now she could rest. For the first time since she’d been hospitalized, she looked peaceful. I sat there for a while. Her nurse came in, checked her vitals, turned on the morphine drip, said she’d be out for at least six hours, I could leave and come back. I stuck around a little longer, finally went home because I had a test to study for.”

One hand clawed a chair arm. “The call came at three a.m. Mommy had passed in her sleep.”

“I’m so sorry, Tanya.”

“They said she didn’t suffer. I’d like to think that she went peacefully because she was able to express herself that last time. I need to honor her memory by following through. Since she died, I’ve been replaying it every day. ‘Terrible thing.’ ‘Killed him, close by.’ Sometimes it feels ridiculous, like one of those corny scenes you see in old movies: ‘the killer was-’ and then the person drops back and closes their eyes? But I know Mommy wouldn’t have wasted the time and energy she had left if it wasn’t important. Will you talk to Detective Sturgis?”

“Of course.”

“Maybe if you tell him what Mommy was like, he won’t think I’m totally whack. I’m so glad I came back to you. You understand why she was more than the best mother. I didn’t come out of her womb and when Lydia ditched me, it would have been easy to send me off somewhere and go on living her life. Instead, she gave me a life.”

“You brought meaning to her life, as well.”

“I hope.”

“Her pride in you was obvious, Tanya.”

“It wasn’t equal, Dr. Delaware. Without her I’d be nothing.” She glanced at her watch.

“We’ve got time left,” I said.

“That’s really all I have to talk about.” She stood again. Out of her purse came a white business-sized envelope that she’d brought to me. P. L. Bigelow embossed on the back flap, an address on Canfield Avenue. Inside was a sheet folded in perfect thirds. Typed list, centered.

Four other addresses, each accompanied by Tanya’s handwritten notation.

Cherokee Avenue, Hollywood. We lived here four years, from when I was three until I was