Tuesday Night Miracles (27 page)

Kit can’t remember what the essay was about—something terribly personal and revealing, for sure—but she knows right now that unless she kicks it up a notch and lets ’er rip she’s going to spend the rest of her life regretting her silence.

This is going to be a personal test for her, and even though she has absolutely no idea what she’s going to say or do next, she’s experiencing a mild state of euphoria because she is speaking first.

Jane is looking at Kit as if Kit has just asked her out on a date. Let ’er rip? Is this woman the descendant of a tribe of wild apes that escaped from the Brookfield Zoo?

Leah is smiling slightly. She loves it that Kit is speaking first, and that Kit has a daughter, as she does, and that she wore cowboy boots to class once. She has wanted a pair of cowboy boots for so long she couldn’t even count all the years. Once, when she was a little girl and she put on her brother’s boots and came into the kitchen, her father leapt from his chair, pushed her—actually pushed a little girl!—on her behind, ripped the boots off of her feet, and told her that girls do not wear cowboy boots.

Leah has wanted a pair ever since. One pair of boots and so much more, but right now how lovely that Kit wants to let ’er rip!

Grace wants to light a candle, because it isn’t Jane speaking first. How much longer must this humiliation go on? Besides her pounding headache, her foot is throbbing just as much as it did the night Jane shot her with an arrow. She can’t wait to get home and see if her daughter is still living with her. Speak, Kit, please. Speak fast before something terrible happens.

“Obviously Dr. Bayer wants us to find something in common, something that links us, something we can talk about besides, you know, that other mess that brought us here.” Kit continues talking as if she knows what she’s doing. “You know we all have a lot at stake here, and it’s probably a good idea for us to do what she asks. I, for one, know that those blaze-orange outfits they wear at the county jail would make me look terrible.”

Kit is hoping that by now someone else would have thought about something else to say or, at the very least, interrupted her. She pauses and keeps letting ’er rip.

“This shouldn’t be that hard, you know,” she goes on. “We are all women, we have all loved, we have all made mistakes—that’s the most obvious. And it’s also obvious we would all rather be a million other places and not here.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jane says, laughing. “On my list of Tuesday-night hot spots, this old building in the middle of this part of town is nowhere near the top.”

Leah is still afraid to speak. If Jane and Kit got into some kind of physical or verbal altercation, she’d put all her money on Kit. Then again, it would depend on weather Jane was wearing her stilettos.

“Actually, this part of town has a few rough edges but it’s turning around,” Kit says.

But before she can continue Jane snorts. It’s not a perfect snort, or very loud, but it is a snort.

“What?” Kit is trying to prepare herself for anything.

“Real estate–wise, honey, it’s going to be years before this part of the city even comes close to the other areas where there are lofts and condos,” Jane informs her.

“You mean empty lofts and condos,” Grace reminds her.

Leah is not thrilled with the direction this conversation is taking, and she’s thinking she may have to jump in as soon as possible. Shouldn’t they be talking about what they have in common?

“Come on,” Kit half pleads, as if she is reading Leah’s mind. “Can’t we just talk about what we have in common, which may help us get on with the rest of our lives?”

It’s Leah who rescues them, if only momentarily.

“I know we all have lots going on in our lives, but being here is a good thing,” Leah begins, looking from one woman to the next. “I, for one, have so much at stake that, to even begin telling you everything would take up three months of sessions. I am begging you all, please, can we at least think about the question at hand?”

“She’s right,” Kit says, finally making eye contact with Leah. “We’re acting like a bunch of preschoolers.”

“Don’t mention children, please.” Jane snarls when she says this. “I am sick to death of anything that has to do with children.”

Grace looks at her sideways in disgust; her detective work shows what kind of woman Jane really is. Kit sees the look and decides to keep talking lest someone cross the line, the dangerous, extremely thin line that must be taunting the living hell out of each one of them.

Both Kit and Leah see a flame behind Grace’s eyes. What is going on back there? Why isn’t she brushing off Jane’s obviously insecure comments? Where is the beer-drinking pal from last Saturday?

Not that either of them feels any differently. But, right this moment, both Leah and Kit want to move forward, even if it’s simply to keep the peace for as long as it takes the session to end and for Dr. Bayer to return.

Before Grace has a chance to say anything, Kit tries to get them back on track. She reminds them that they’re supposed to find things in common and she asks them to think about that.

Leah asks them if this came up during the first session, before she joined the class.

“Kind of,” Kit replies.

Jane leans forward, obviously ready to leave, absolutely put out by the entire discussion, and before anyone can stop her she brings up the children issue again.

“So I’m the only one who doesn’t have babies. We figured that out already. Lucky for all of you. Hurray for me. We did the stand-up-comedy thing, the dancing thing, the singing thing. I don’t suppose you can do all three or maybe juggle with fire, can you, Leah?”

Leah turns red and does not move.

Kit is furious and holds on to the sides of her seat with both hands to keep herself from flying off her chair and tackling Jane.

Then, without hesitation, Grace stands up, walks over, and slaps Jane across her left cheek.

Jane is absolutely stunned, and yet she manages to stand up. She puts her left hand over the spot where Grace slapped her.

Grace is instantly mortified, but she’s also still quite angry. She says nothing, but backs up.

Then Jane lets her have it.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you realize that I can have you thrown into jail? I know all about you and your little boyfriend who you’re afraid to be seen with in public because he’s black. You are so going to regret this, Grace! How dare you slap me, touch me, even look at me!”

Grace is now almost as red as Leah. She takes another step back, raises her right hand, jabs a finger at Jane, and starts shouting.

“Don’t fuck with me, either, you prissy bitch! I know all about your issues with babies and children, and that you’ve done nothing but lie to your husband and doctors and probably everyone else in your life! You are no better than us. In fact, you are just like us, so fuck you too, Jane Castoria! Fuck you!”

For a moment it looks as if Jane is going to lunge at Grace, but instead she turns, picks up her purse, and walks from the room so fast no one else has a chance to say anything.

Dr. Bayer hears some commotion down the hall and is just standing up when she sees a flash of color fly past the small window of the closed door.

She has no idea that the flash is Jane Castoria getting the hell out of the building as fast as she can.

33

Just When You Think

J
ane is still slowly making her way to the ground floor in the antiquated elevator when Dr. Bayer bursts into the room. She is breathing hard and looks first at Grace, then Kit, then Leah. Jane was obviously the flash of color she saw streaking past her window.

Damn it.

“Would one of you care to tell me what happened the few minutes I was out of the room?”

The women do not move. They are all looking at their feet. Grace is as red as a ripe tomato. Leah has her eyes closed, and appears to be praying. Kit is now moving both legs up and down terribly fast, as if they are resting on a vibrator.

The room is suddenly so quiet that Dr. Bayer wonders if the women are holding their breath. She can actually hear the echo of the elevator grinding as it descends.

Dr. Bayer doesn’t know it yet but this pause is creating what even some naysayers would call a minor miracle. The women in the room are thinking so fast that all three of them feel as if their heads are going to explode. They’re trying to decide what to say, whom to protect, how much to lie, who should speak, and what will happen when they make this momentous decision.

Grace knows that if the women tell Dr. Bayer what happened, she will most likely be leaving the building inside a police car. When the realization of what she has just done hits her, Grace’s entire body goes into meltdown mode and she begins shaking. Her headache has expanded to every vein inside her head. It feels as if a tractor is plowing up her brains.

Maybe her mother has been right all these years and she truly is nothing but a wasteland of humanity. Maybe she really is out of control. Maybe everything bad that has ever happened to her is totally her fault. Maybe Kelli has acted out for the past three years to punish her for being such a bad mother. And maybe, just maybe, what Jane said about Evan is true. And because of all that, because she’s such a failure, Grace tells herself that she does deserve to go to jail to atone for her multitude of sins. Everything is lost.

Leah is praying that Kit speaks up first. She knows what she wants to say but dares not, knows what kind of pressure Grace must be under to react that way, knows that a mistake can be made so quickly when someone is under stress that sometimes simple forgiveness is the only thing that will make it all better.

She’s desperately trying not to speak out, not to reach over and grab Grace’s hand, not to look into the eyes of Kit, who has totally surprised her tonight, not to think of what might happen not just to Grace but to all of them if Dr. Bayer discovers the truth.

Kit is composing herself but first she allows herself a quiet moment of anger, which she knows Dr. Bayer would love: Damn you, Jane, you egotistical bitch; damn you, Grace, for throwing your garbage into the middle of this group; damn you, Leah, for pushing my emotional buttons.

Isn’t this hard enough without someone totally going ballistic? Isn’t anger what got them to this place to begin with? Are they truly all beyond help and hope? The last hour has been like a prelude to a major battle.

Kit looks up and sees that Grace looks as if she’s going to say something. And she is. Grace has decided to spill her guts and tell Dr. Bayer everything. It’s time to pay the price.

But Kit instinctively speaks first. She can’t help herself. And she is absolutely determined to control her own destiny.

“We had a little disagreement, that’s all,” she lies. “We were talking about anger issues, what makes us mad, you know, and were just starting to get into what we have in common and, well, Jane was smart to leave because she was so darn angry.”

Leah and Grace go pale.

Dr. Bayer is no fool. If Kit were acting normal, the “darn” would have been a “damn.” She knows that something else happened, and she would love to know what it was. On the other hand some serious bonding may have taken place. The women are actually looking at each other instead of at the floor. She has three seconds to make the next move.

“Good for Jane,” Dr. Bayer tells them. “She must have been listening. Sometimes leaving the room is the best answer of all.”

Half of Grace’s headache disappears like magic.

Kit stops moving one leg.

Leah is trying without much luck to hide a smile.

Did something wonderful just happen or are they simply prolonging the pain?

Downstairs, the elevator door is sliding open one half a centimeter at a time. Jane is stamping her foot. She can’t wait to get the hell out of the building, away from those women, especially that crazy witch Grace. Jane figures she must have nailed part of Grace’s problems right to the wall.

Dr. Bayer doesn’t say another word as she hands back three journals, but she notices everything. The women are suddenly more relaxed. Grace seems to have received an instant facelift. Leah is smiling, for the love of God! Kit is sitting up in her chair, not slouching, and she took charge.

But then there’s Jane. Dr. Bayer decides she must run to catch up with Jane. These three get a pass. She wants to get Jane’s version of the last fifteen minutes and return her log.

“I liked your writings this week,” she says, startling the women even more. “Honesty is a great sign of progress. Keep it up. You may just get there yet.”

Then she dismisses them with a smile. If these women are as smart as she thinks they are, they’ll see the smile as her acknowledgment of their cover-up. All three of them are lying.

Dr. Bayer doesn’t wait to see their reactions. She grabs her files, throws on her coat, and decides to race down the steps to try and catch Jane. Besides, she thinks, smiling even wider, all three of them might end up in the elevator at the same time and have to speak to each other about what just happened. And about what didn’t happen. She would pay a pretty penny right this moment to have a hidden camera in the room and, especially, in the elevator.

The three women appear startled as Dr. Bayer all but runs out of the room.

Leah stands up and finally lets go of a soft laugh she’s been holding on to since Kit told a white lie. A lie she feels they all must share.

“I shouldn’t laugh, I know, but that was something, Kit.”

Grace gets up next and takes a step toward Kit.

“Why did you do that?” she asks, trying hard not to reach over and hug Kit.

“I wanted to beat the shit out of Jane myself,” Kit admits. “She keeps crossing the line. We all know you shouldn’t have slapped her—physical violence, as we all know, is never the right thing to do. It was wrong, but I’m guessing Leah feels the same way I do. I’m kind of glad you did it.”

“You’re right,” Grace agrees. “There’s no excuse for violence.”

Kit is feeling a little cocky. The women gather up their own coats and purses and anger logs and start walking to the elevator.

“So, Grace, do you have a boyfriend or not?”

Grace turns back into the tomato.

Then she shrugs, wrinkles up her face, puts her head down, and says, “I don’t know.”

Leah chuckles as the antique elevator door slides open. When they get inside, the women can smell Jane’s strong perfume. The lingering scent sobers them up.

Jane, they all think at once.

“Do you think she’ll say anything?” Leah asks as the door closes.

“I hope not,” Kit says as they begin to descend. “But she’s definitely a wild card.”

Grace reaches out to put her hand on Kit. “Thanks,” she says quietly. “I have tons on my mind this week. I’ve actually been doing great. I have a lot to lose if this doesn’t work.”

“We all do, sister,” Kit says, touching Grace for a brief moment. “As long as we all win, I say we play the game however we want to.”

“Well,” Leah says, speaking up quickly. “This would be about the limit for me as far as rule-changing and honesty. I feel kind of sorry for Jane.”

Kit and Grace remain silent as Kit pushes the button while the elevator door is trying to decide if it wants to stay closed or open. If Jane says something they’re all going to be in deep shit, and the chances of Jane spilling the beans seem pretty darn good.

Downstairs, Dr. Bayer has stepped out of the building and is looking for Jane. It’s cold outside. The kind of Chicago October cold that is like a horrid warning for what is to come in the next few months. Olivia walks down the sidewalk a few feet and looks one way and then the other. Where did Jane go?

Olivia heard the front door close as she came down the steps. Unless Jane is running, she must be very close. She decides to walk to the end of the building and see if Jane has left her car in the parking lot or down the block a bit. But even with the bright streetlights, the ones that are still working anyway, she doesn’t see her.

Dr. Bayer turns back the other way and begins walking as fast as possible toward the other side of the building. A cold wind charges up behind her and her coat billows out as if someone is pumping frigid air through the sleeves. She puts the files she has been carrying into her battered brown leather briefcase and wraps the ends of her coat around her as tightly as possible.

“Chicago sucks,” she says out loud, as if that will change anything, while she tucks her chin into her chest, hoping for a brief moment of warmth.

The second she lifts up her head, she hears a scream. It ricochets off the Franklin Building and instantly makes her look up and across the street.

There are no lights across the street. The old wooden poles are there, but it looks as if someone shot out all the bulbs. All that’s left are jagged pieces of glass. It is dark, and it looks absolutely foreboding and dangerous across the street.

Olivia has been coming to this building for years. She was here when there were still street gangs roaming in this section of town and full-time guards escorted people in and out of the buildings.

Then she was given a pager, right before cellphones became not just mandatory but totally necessary, so that she would never have to park her car and walk inside the building alone.

But during the past two years this entire section of the city has started a marvelous resurgence. The old warehouses have been purchased by developers who have turned many of them into town houses and artists’ lofts. The economic downtown that started a few years ago has slowed the construction process, but the past year has been magical for some buildings that were once old factories and warehouses.

People have been moving back into the city in droves. They’ve given up their second cars and purchased bicycles. They’re walking to the theater and to work and everywhere else within a few-mile radius.

But even the magic hands of time do not change everything. There have been sporadic incidents of violence and crime: car-jackings, thefts, an occasional random and nonsensical beating.

Olivia hesitates for a moment, and then she hears another scream. A longer and much louder scream, and everything inside her, every ounce of her being, tells her to move and to move fast.

The moment Dr. Bayer begins to run across the street, Leah, Kit, and Grace emerge from the building. When they push through the huge front doors, Leah happens to look to the right and she sees Dr. Bayer running across the street at a clip that would qualify her for membership on an Olympic team.

“Oh, my gosh! Look!” she exclaims, pointing toward the street.

“It’s Dr. Bayer!” Kit shouts.

They all freeze, because what they’re seeing makes absolutely no sense and that is when they hear the third scream. And all three of them start to run.

Dr. Bayer has just made it across the street. Her bag is flying behind her as if it’s the tail of a kite. She wants to stand and listen for more screams, but she also feels as if she must keep going. She is almost certain that the scream is coming from the alley on the far side of the building across the street.

When she gets to the alley and turns left into it, she sees Jane being dragged by her coat collar and she is fighting like hell. A tall man with a ski mask over his face is pulling at her left arm and clawing at the large leather purse she refuses to give him.

Olivia’s stomach jumps right into her throat. Sweet Jesus. Does he have a gun? Is Jane hurt? Are there more men?

Dr. Olivia Bayer does not stop to ask. She starts shouting to let him know that Jane is no longer alone.

“Stop it! Let her go! Leave her alone!”

The man is startled, and this gives Jane a chance to jerk her right arm away and whack him in the head with her fist. He instinctively lets go of her arm and puts his hand on his head. Jane is no slouch and, even lying in the filthy alley, she hits him with all the energy she can muster.

Leah, Kit, and Grace come running into the alley and, without hesitation, Kit sprints as if someone has set her heels on fire and starts screaming.

The man is befuddled. Where the hell did all these women come from? He has absolutely no idea what to do next and so he does nothing. His entire face is covered in a black ski mask but suddenly his lower jaw appears beneath it, as he stands immobilized.

But Kit takes care of that for him three seconds before tiny Dr. Bayer is about to throw herself on top of him. That is exactly what Kit does: she screams, and it is a scream that could pierce the eardrums of small babies. Then she throws herself on top of the man, rips off his mask, and starts clawing at his eyes.