“That seems best,” Marv agrees.
“Four to six more months? Best for who? I’m tired of people runnin’ my life and pushin’ me around.” When Edie came up with her path-stealing scheme at UMC El Paso, she promised me more money than I could spend in two lifetimes. I don’t need that much. Just enough to open Shear Elegance, and maybe a little extra so Momma and me can live our lives in comfort. I figure Edie owes me at least that much.
“How much time do you imagine before you’re strong enough to take care of yourself?” the doc asks, and I’m starting to feel betrayed. She’s never said anything about another four to six months.
“Just enough so I can sign a credit card without gettin’ my behind tossed in jail.”
“What do you need?”
A plane ticket. “I don’t know, but I’ve been locked up and might want to travel.”
“Where will you go?”
Home. As soon as possible. “I don’t know. Someplace where folks aren’t afraid of me.”
“We aren’t afraid of you, Edie.” Claire looks from me to the doctor. “We’re afraid for you.”
I know they are trying, but I get the feeling that I make them as jumpy as they make me. “Y’all look at me like you’re afraid I’m a hired killer and eye contact will put you on my hit list.”
Claire shakes her head. “It’s been a tough five months for everyone and we’re just being cautious.”
I don’t want people cautious around me. I don’t want people to walk on eggshells like I always had to with Dingleberry. Marv and Claire are not my favorite people, but that’s no way to live. “If Livingston didn’t turn me into a killer, nothin’ will,” I joke in an effort to lighten the mood. I miss joking and embellishing, and I have a burning urge to bring up the time Daddy killed a wild boar with his pocketknife. I can’t because I have amnesia, but I wouldn’t be a true Texan if I let a little thing like total memory loss stand in my way of bool-sheet. “Thank the good Lord and baby Jesus I never used that shank I made out of toothpicks and bobby pins. Twitchy was at the top of my ‘People to Kill’ list, I’m not gonna lie,” I say, but I’m the only one smiling. They look horrified, and I turn to Barb. “Oh Lord, don’t tell me I killed somebody and don’t remember.”
“No.” She shakes her head and I sigh with relief. “We’re just not used to your kidding.”
“I never kidded before?” Thinking about Edie, I guess that’s not a big surprise.
Marv and Claire shake their heads.
“Never told jokes?”
Marv finally breaks the silence. “Never.”
That’s not a surprise either. “We should all give it a try sometime. You know, ‘Knock knock,’ ‘Who’s there?’?” Thinking back on the conversation on the drive over, I suspect neither of them has a sense of humor.”
“Knock-knock jokes are for children,” he says matter-of-factly, and he doesn’t know it yet, but he just earned himself a mess of knock-knock jokes.
“Marvin.” Claire puts her hand on her husband’s knee. “No one wants to upset you, Edie.”
Marv is being rude, but I’m in control of my emotions. “How can I get upset? I don’t remember anyone or anything before May. I woke up not knowin’ who or where I was.” I pause to look directly at Edie’s parents. “Y’all remember that day.” They both give a slight nod and try hard not to look away. I appreciate the effort, but I feel a rant working its way to the surface. “I’ve been told about my life from birth to thirty, but I don’t remember it. I’m told I went to some fancy schools and had a fiancé; I couldn’t tell you what I learned or the name of the guy I was supposed to marry. I’m told I know a lot about fancy art and music, but all I can say is that I like painted skulls and country and western. Doctor Lindbloom said I was brilliant. I figure he must know since Mensa is his favorite subject.”
Doc Barb laughs. “Lindbloom loves to talk about himself.”
Finally, someone lightens up. “The pair of you could say I’m a thief and a triple-dipped psycho, but that’s not me.” That’s the other Edie.
“It’s difficult to look at our daughter and know that you’re not the same person we’ve known for thirty years. You don’t remember us or your brother. You don’t remember how much you loved trimming the Christmas tree when you were little or how excited you were when you named your first sailing dinghy Swift Winds.”
For the first time, I see a little crack in Claire’s icy image. The corner of her mouth wavers, and even though she doesn’t cry, she feels more human to me. Like she’s more than an unfeeling block of ice. I haven’t given much thought, if any, to how they must feel about the new and improved Edie. Hell, I don’t know either. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s difficult to realize that you really did try to kill yourself. You really do hate your life. You really do want to die.”
Marv puts his arm around Claire’s stiff shoulders. “Darling, things will work out.”
“Edie?” Doc Barb looks at me. “What are you feeling?”
“Sorry. That must be horrible.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to die, and I’d never kill myself. It’s a calcified fact that I hate pain, and the sight of my own blood gives me the heebie-jeebies. Lord knows I had to give enough of it at Livingston.”
“Edie, I think your parents need more from you than saying you hate pain and the sight of blood.”