Paul drove me to Greenglenna while Carrie stayed home to enjoy the new color TV set and all her new clothes and games. Paul chatted happily of the party he planned for all of us tonight at his favorite restaurant.
"I wish I could be selfish and leave Chris and Carrie at home. But I want them there when I put the ring on your finger." I fixed my eyes on the winter landscape rolling by, the trees bare, the grass brown, the pretty houses with decorations and outdoor lights turned on after dark. Now I was part of the show, no longer just a spectator locked away--and yet I felt so torn, so miserable.
"Cathy, you are seated beside the happiest man in the world!"
And back in his garden, I'd left a man just as miserable as I felt.
In my purse I had a ring I'd bought for Carrie in New York. A tiny ruby for a very small finger, and even so, it was too large for anything but her thumb. As I stood there, in the better jewelry department of the best store in town, discussing just how the ring could be reduced in size without ruining the setting, I suddenly heard a very familiar voice! A sweet, husky, dulcet- toned voice. As in slow motion, I cautiously turned my head.
Momma! Standing right next to me! If she'd been alone, perhaps she would have seen me, but she was absorbed in chatting to her female companion who was dressed just as elegantly as she was. I'd changed considerably since she saw me last--still if she looked, she would have to know who I was. The two of them were discussing the party they had attended last night. "Really, Corrine, Elsie does carry the festive theme through to an outrageous extreme-- all that red!"
Parties! Was that all she did, go to parties! My heart went pounding in fox-trot time. My spirits went limp, sagged out by disappointment. A party--I should have known! She never stayed at home and watched TV! She hadn't seen me! Oh, but I was angry! I turned to make her see me! A small standing mirror on the glass jewelry showcase reflected her profile, and showed me how lovely she was still. A bit older looking, but striking nonetheless. Her flaxen hair was drawn back to emphasize the perfection of her small gem of a nose, her pouting red lips, her long and naturally dark lashes that were made thicker by mascara. Her ears glittered with gold and diamonds, the real things--and she was speaking.
"Can't you show me something just right for a lovely young girl?" she asked the saleslady.
"Something in good taste, not gaudy, or too large, but something a young girl can keep all her life and be proud of."
Who? What girl did she have to give gifts to? I felt jealous and watched her select a lovely gold locket very much like the one Chris had given me! Three hundred dollars! Now our dear mother was spending money on a girl not her own, forgetting about us. Didn't she think of us, wonder how we were faring? How could she sleep at night when the world could be so cold, ugly and cruel to children on their own?
As far as I could tell, she was completely without guilt or regrets. Maybe that was what millions could do--nail a satisfied smirk to one's face--despite what it covered. I wanted to speak and see her poise collapse! I wanted her smiles to peel off like bark from a tree and she'd be revealed before her friend for what she was--a monster without a heart! A killer! A fraud! But I said nothing.
"Cathy," said Paul, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my shoulders, "I've returned everything--how about you? Ready to go now?"
I wanted desperately for my mother to see me with Paul, a man every bit as handsome as her darling "Bart." I wanted to shout it out. See, I too can attract intelligent, kind, educated and handsome men! So quickly I glanced to see if Momma had heard Paul speak my name, hoping to delight in her stunned surprise, her guilt, her shame. But she'd moved on farther down the counter, and if she heard the name, Cathy, it didn't cause her to turn her head.
For some reason I didn't understand, I sobbed.
"Are you all right, darling?" asked Paul. He saw something on my face that puzzled him and put concern in his eyes. "You're not having second thoughts about us, are you?"
"No, of course not!" I denied. But I was having second thoughts about me. Why hadn't I done something? Why hadn't I put out my foot this time and tripped her? Then I could have seen her sprawled on the floor, her poise vanished--maybe. It would be like her to fall gracefully and have all the men in the store hurry to assist her up--even Paul.
I was dressing for the big affair at The Plantation House when Chris came into my bedroom and sent Carrie away. "Go watch TV," he said with more sharpness than I'd ever heard him use with her. "I want to speak to your sister." Carrie threw him, then me, an odd look before she skipped out of the room.
No sooner had Carrie closed the door behind her, than Chris was at my side and seizing my shoulders. He shook me violently. "Are you going through with this farce? You don't love him! You still love me! I know you do! Cathy, please, don't do this to me! I know you're trying to set me free by marrying Paul, but that's not a good reason for marrying a man." He hung his head, released my shoulders, and looked terribly ashamed. His voice came so low I had to keen my ears to hear his words. "I know it's wrong what I feel for you. I know I should try and find someone else, like you try to do . . . but I can't stop loving you and wanting you. I think about you all during my days, every day. I dream about you at night. I want to wake up and see you in the room with me. I want to go to bed and know you're there, very close, where I can see you, touch you." A sob tore from his throat before he could go on. "I can't bear to think of you with another man! Damn it, Cathy, I want you! You don't plan to have children anyway, so why can't it be me?"
I'd drawn away when he released my shoulders. When his words stopped I ran to fling my arms about him, as he clutched at me, as if I were the one and only woman who could save him from drowning. And we'd both drown if I did as he wanted. "Oh, Chris, what can I say? Momma and Daddy made their mistake in marrying each other--and we were the ones to pay the price. We can't risk repeating their mistake!"
"Yes we can!" he fervently cried. "We don't have to have a sexual relationship! We can just live together, be together, just brother and sister, with Carrie too. Please, please, I beg you not to marry
Paul!"
"Shut up!" I scre
amed. "Leave me alone!" I
struck at him then, wanting to hurt him, as every word
he said hurt me. "You make me feel so guilty, so
ashamed! Chris, I did the best I could for you when we
were prisoners. Maybe we did turn to each other, but
only because we had no others! If there had been, you
would never have wanted me, and I would never have
given you a second glance! You are only a brother to