I immediately felt a little sick. What if Schuyler Bennett could tell right away that I wasn’t Laurel? What if she somehow got Laurel’s phone number and called her? I really should tell Laurel what I’ve done—and besides, I still have to return her diaper bag.
I JUST GOT back from Laurel’s house. I tried calling but it just went to voicemail and said her mailbox was full. So I called Vanessa to come watch Chloe and I drove over there. I was surprised when Stan opened the door because it was the middle of the day. Then I felt scared, remembering what she’d said—that Chloë would be better off without her. “Is Laurel all right?” I asked.
“Why wouldn’t she be?”
I didn’t know what to say right away. After all, it was Stan who’d told me that Laurel had BPD and had tried to kill herself. “I just wondered because she’s not picking up her phone and she didn’t seem . . .” I hated to say anything bad about her, especially given all the stuff she’d said about Stan the last time I saw her. But that had been part of her delusional thinking, so I said, “She wasn’t in good shape when I saw her last. It made me worry . . . about what you told me.”
“She’s much better now,” Stan said coolly. “And frankly . . . well, I think she’s better off not spending time with you anymore.”
I was so shocked you could have knocked me over with a feather! I think I just stammered something about not understanding and then Stan said, “I’ve discussed this with Esta and we agree that you’re not a good influence on Laurel right now. It may not be your fault, but your own morbid delusions about your child are giving Laurel . . . ideas.”
“My morbid delusions?”
“Yes, that you’re afraid you might hurt her. That you’ve thought about killing yourself and taking her with you. That you have a recurring nightmare about sleepwalking and leaving your baby in the car or drowning her in the bath—”
“That was Judith who told the story about the car! And the part about the bathtub—that was only a thought. Esta calls them intrusive thoughts. I’d never—”
“No? Peter told me that you tried to kill yourself in the bathtub. The last thing Laurel needs is someone planting those kinds of ideas in her head. Laurel is very impressionable.”
“Laurel? Impressionable?” I scoffed. I’m afraid I may have laughed then. I could see by Stan’s face that I must have looked a little crazy. “Laurel’s the one who’s impressed herself on me! She’s the one who’s always telling me how I should do my hair and what to wear and what to think.”
Stan’s expression changed then. He almost looked like he felt sorry for me, but then his face hardened and he said that was my problem. He asked me not to come by anymore and he closed the door in my face.
I stood there like an idiot for a couple of minutes. I even tried looking in the window to see if I could find Laurel, but all the blinds were drawn. Laurel always had them open. The house was dark and quiet, like a tomb, or a prison. I suddenly had the conviction that Stan was holding Laurel prisoner inside.
And then I remembered the bottle of water Laurel had been drinking the last time I was there. Stan mixed it for me, she’d said, with electrolytes and shit. I think he’s trying to poison me.
I’d thought she was crazy, but what if she had been right? What if he was drugging her to have her declared incompetent so he could gain control over her money? I stared at the house for another few minutes trying to figure out what to do. Go to the police? They’d never believe me. They would think I was crazy.
I got back in my car and sat there gripping the steering wheel, my hands shaking so hard I was afraid to drive. Thank God Vanessa had Chloe. Vanessa. She had Simone’s phone number. I’d go home and get Simone’s number and call her. She would know if Laurel was really in danger.
I drove home slowly, making sure I made a full stop at every stop sign, signaling at every turn, waiting extra long for oncoming traffic at every corner. I had the feeling that I was being watched. That if I slipped up even a little the police would descend on me and take me away. They’d take me away from Chloe.
When I got home I was so anxious to see Chloe that I ran into the house crying, “Mommy’s home!” and found Peter sitting in the living room with Chloe in his lap. “Where’s Vanessa?” I asked.
“I told her to go home,” he said. He was giving me that sideways look. Examining me. I found myself patting my clothes to make sure they were all right.
“I thought you were playing golf,” I said.
“Stan canceled,” he said, his voice flat and cold. “Laurel’s not well.”
“No, she’s not,” I said. “Remember? I told you that.”
“He said you came by.”
“Yes! To check on Laurel, but he wouldn’t let me see her. Listen, Peter, I think there’s something wrong—”
“He said you’ve been telling Laurel stories about hurting yourself and Chloe.”
“No!” I cried so loudly that Chloe whimpered. I went to comfort her, but Peter shielded her with his arm to keep her from me.
“You shouldn’t be around her when you’re like this,” he said.
“I-I’m all right,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m just upset about Laurel. I think Stan is keeping her from me. I think he might be medicating her so she seems crazy.” I almost said poisoning her, but I stopped myself in time.
Peter stared at me. “Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”
“Yes!” I said, again too loud. Chloe’s face puckered, the way it does before she cries. I just wanted to hold her but Peter was keeping her from me. “I know that’s how it
