She raised her face into the steaming downpour,feeling the warm, sedative pounding on her closed eyelids, her aching neck andshoulders. Her shampoo was lavender-scented and she scrubbed the soapy froth,replacing the turp smell with the intoxicating aroma of the sweetest herb onearth. It made her think of lavender fields in France - wide, stretchingexpanses of clearest blue leading up to old castles. Nice. The gloom that haddogged her all day was starting to ease.
Turning off the water, she looked over tothe glass though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. What was to fear? She’dshowered this morning and there was nothing there.
She blinked. Her breath stopped in herthroat.
There, right next to her at shoulder level,was the word Help. It looked written as if with a trembling finger andstayed there, not running down with the other droplets.
A quiet groan, almost of pain, escaped herlips. Involuntarily she backed up a step, shutting her eyes tight, opening themagain.
It was still there.
Her head thudded crazily as she reached outto touch it, then pulled her hand back fast; reached hysterically up for asponge and wiped the word away.
It stayed gone, but she still stood there, nakedand shaking, feeling the dry rasp of her breath in her throat. She began tomake a whining sound, unaware that she was making any sound at all.
“I WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS. NO…NOTHAPPENING…”
With a crazed, jerky movement she got outof the shower stall, slammed the door, grabbed a towel and wrapped it aroundher, tight, tighter, as if the towel could somehow hold her together. She stoodlike that for long, trembling moments, dread building until she could stand itno longer. She reached and yanked the shower door open again; looked in.
The Help was still gone, replaced bywild smears of soapy lather. Her eyes darted to the faucet, making drippingsounds that seemed abnormally loud. But that word was gone, and it stayed gonedespite the humidity piling more hot mist on the glass.
Liddy dropped to the toilet seat. Sat thererigid for a long time, feeling the harsh breath in her throat finally slow.
“I’ve been tired for so long,” she whisperedout loud to herself, and it seemed okay, not crazy at all, to talk out loudlike that. Her voice grew stronger. “So much has happened that I don’tunderstand. The accident…these apparitions…everything.” Then, slowly, sheforced herself to stand, reach one hand to the sink for support. “But it’s allright. It’s going to be all right. Beth says save yourself…”
She headed for the bedroom, still in hertowel. Part of her mind pulled fearfully at her, tried to make her go compulsivelyback to check the shower – no, dammit, nothing’s there! - but she wentstraight to her drawers instead; pulled out her prettiest underwear. Black lacebra and panties, just the thing to distract, think of nicer things. She hadimagined what happened in the shower; she had imagined everything - that’sright. It had been a bad three months…but it was over now. Her jaw clamped downhard. She was declaring war.
Put on the face, hang tight, saveyourself.
I’m doin’ it, Beth.
From the closet she pulled a simple blackcotton dress, V-necked and sleeveless. It was one of Paul’s favorites, he’dlike that, though she decided to wear comfortable black flats to favor her badleg. Next, putting on makeup before the mirror, she decided on an even better wayto tackle this. If maybe she was actually losing her mind, well hey - she couldstill fake sanity, couldn’t she? Mind over matter! Never again would shemention her hallucinations, or whatever they were, to anyone. Under extremestress the mind plays cruel tricks. She’d been through a rough patch but it wasover now. Finished. Save yourself, she thought urgently.
But bad stuff kept bubbling up. In thekitchen where she’d left her purse she remembered telling Alex Minton, “Thoseapparitions, it’s like I’m seeing a ghost.”
The thought sent her back to the studio forher sketchbook, which she pushed into her purse. She wasn’t sure what she’d dowith it at the restaurant, probably nothing, but she took it everywhere out ofhabit, didn’t she? Ha - would she wave it around under Carl Finn’s nose, seehis reaction? Oh she was tempted, but that would be bad. Paul would get upsetand it would be like last night all over again.
Peaceful was better. Paul looked so pleasedannouncing there’d be a surprise.
What surprise? The heart that wouldn’t quitits cold thudding wasn’t exactly feeling up for surprises.
Liddy stashed another lipstick in herpurse, then locked the apartment and left.
Down in the street, in the still very warm waningsunlight, she stopped to look up to the window where she’d seen the fightingcouple. For a long moment she stared at it, seeing again the pained, whirling-aroundface of the young blonde as he struck her. Terrible enough, but what shookLiddy even more was the feeling that wouldn’t let go. That girl had looked likeSasha Perry - and what was she going to do about it? She had seen somethingthat still tore at her, broke her heart, made her feel guilty.
Call, KerriBlasco said. If there’s anything at all, don’t hesitate.
Wait, fromBeth. A thousand fights like that happen every night.
And from Paul: Stay away from the cops,they’ll find noon at three o’clock!
The window up there was quiet now,empty-looking with the shade pulled. Paul had to be right – it was some troubledcouple who’d either made up or broken up, and she had built it up into-
Stop, Liddy stormed at herself. Down, crazythoughts…
She exhaled, turned, and walked on, headinga block east and realizing that she was moving more briskly than she had inages. That surprised her, made her smile. Ditto the sun, hot but not too hotand the good feeling being out in it, and seeing faces, people tired but gladto be heading home, bar doors open emitting laughter and music.
She turned north at Mercer, gazing aheadthrough the early-evening crowd…
…and her breath stopped.
There, crossing at mid-block and headingtoward her, was Sasha Perry.
29
Oh my God, no doubtthis time, not a hallucination. Liddy’s heart rocketed - it
