Yes, Well. She Lies. (2/10)
Having finished her lasagna and cleared her plate, Catherine says, “So. I guess you want me to make that call.”
“Yes,” Ellen says.
Ellen hands Catherine her phone.
Catherine moves away from Ellen, toward the living room, making the call a little more private.
“Here goes nothing,” she says, and dials. She waits. “Voicemail,” she mouths at Ellen. She fidgets and then starts to leave a message.
“Hi, Grandma. Um. I’m staying at Ellen’s tonight. Ellen Parsons. At her apartment. She said it would be okay if it was okay with you. So, yeah. Call back if it isn’t okay.”
Catherine hangs up.
“I told you,” she tells Ellen. “She barely knows I exist.”
Ellen shrugs and looks sympathetic. She doesn’t want to agree with Catherine, but on the other hand, what kind of guardian doesn’t take a call at nine thirty at night?
“You want the couch or the air mattress?” Ellen says.
“Air mattress.”
“I’ll go get it.”
When the air mattress is blown up and Catherine is ready for bed Ellen sits on the couch. Catherine sits across from her in a chair, and Ellen gives her a long, hard look.
She is at a skinny, awkward age, but she has those amazing eyes, and her face is lovely and serious. But what Ellen notices most is how much Catherine looks like Patty. It’s not her features, but her motions and her expressions. Like now, when she casually picks at the lint on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in, and then half glances up and gives Ellen a falsely sweet smile to let her know that yes, she is kind of judging the furniture.
“So,” Ellen says. “Why did you run away?”
“I was sick of her bullshit,” Catherine says.
Ellen starts. The exact same words she herself once used with Patty.
“Sorry,” Catherine says, apologizing for her language, but tilting her chin in a way that says she isn’t sorry.
“Specifically?” Ellen prompts.
Catherine takes a breath. “She lies about stuff. She told me my mom was dead. Like, that’s what I thought when I was little.” Catherine gives Ellen an accusatory look. “My mom’s not dead,” she informs her, watching for a reaction.
“I know,” Ellen says.
Catherine seems pleased that Ellen didn’t pretend ignorance.
“And she won’t let me talk to my dad.”
Well. That Ellen can understand. The custody battle was fraught, to put it mildly. Ellen almost got involved, but Michael’s lawyer decided at the last second that her testimony might not help his case. In retrospect, Ellen is very, very glad.
“I see,” Ellen says.
Catherine’s eyes flash. “It’s not just that.”
Ellen waits.
“She expects me to be perfect. Like, if I don’t get a good grade, she acts like I did it on purpose to bother her.” Catherine worries her lip. “Sometimes I do,” she confesses. “Get bad grades on purpose to bother her.”
“Why?” Ellen says, feeling like she’s gone into shrink-mode.
“So she’ll pay attention. So she won’t think that I’m so perfect she doesn’t have to worry about me.”
“So she’ll think about you instead of about her case,” Ellen guesses.
Catherine nods.
“Did something happen today?” Ellen asks.
“What?” Catherine says.
“Did something happen with Patty today? Something that made you run away?”
Catherine considers. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says finally.
“Okay,” Ellen says. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“G’night,” Ellen says, smiling.
“Goodnight.”
* * *
Once ready for bed, Ellen checks on Catherine, who is sleeping peacefully. She decides to call Patty, to make sure she really is okay with Catherine spending the night. And maybe, if she feels brave, to offer some subtle criticism of Patty’s parenting. She picks up her phone. She’s not sure if the number she has for Patty is current, so she hits redial.
“Ellen, honey? It’s late, is everything okay?” Ellen had been bracing herself to hear Patty’s voice, or at least Patty’s voicemail, and she is startled to hear her own mother’s voice instead.
“Oh. Yeah, Mom. Everything is good. I’m sorry. I called you by mistake.”
“I was in bed.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“That’s alright. Call me tomorrow?”
“Sure, Mom. Bye.”
Now Ellen is puzzled. She scrolls through the recently dialed numbers on her phone. All are familiar. None of them could be Patty’s number. And anyway, Catherine’s call to Patty should have been the most recent.
And then Ellen feels like a complete idiot. Of course. Catherine didn’t call Patty at all. She didn’t call anybody. She stood there in front of Ellen and put on a performance, and Ellen bought it.
* * *
Detective Huntley has left, and Patty is staring helplessly around her empty apartment. She would rather be out looking for Catherine, but she knows she should stay here in case Catherine comes home. She wants a drink, but decides it’s a bad idea.
She goes into Catherine’s room and sits on the bed. She picks up Blueberry and looks into the stuffed animal’s beaded eyes, trying to imagine she sees expression there. Corey died last year. Patty could have used his company tonight.
Her phone rings, and Patty goes rigid. “Yes?”
“Patty, Catherine’s safe. She’s here.”
“Thank God.” Patty collapses against the pillows, suffused with relief and gratitude. Then she realizes to whom she is speaking. “Ellen?”
* * *
“Yeah, it’s me,” Ellen says when Patty recognizes her voice.
“Catherine’s with you?” Ellen doesn’t think Patty meant for that to sound so much like an insult, but she can’t be sure.
“Yeah. She just - showed up at my apartment. I’m sorry, Patty, she told me - I thought you knew she was here.”
There’s a beat. Then, “Let me talk to her.” Patty’s voice has gone soft and dangerous.
“She’s sleeping.” Ellen says protectively.
“Sleeping? How long has she been with you?”
Ellen checks her watch. “Two hours.”
“Two hours,” Patty hisses. “And you call me now.”
Ellen swallows. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Like I said, I thought you knew. She said she called you. She also said you wouldn’t have missed her yet.”
“Yes, well,” Patty says. “She lies.”
“I know that now,” Ellen says.
“She’s been missing for seven hours,” Patty says. “I’ve been frantic.”
“Jesus,” Ellen exhales.
“I’m coming over,” Patty says.
“You think you should?” Ellen says. “Couldn’t we leave her until morning? Give everyone a chance to calm down?”
“Everyone?” Patty says.
“Well, okay, give you a chance to calm down, Patty.”
“I’ll be calmer when I’ve seen my granddaughter.”
Ellen can’t argue with that logic. “Okay,” she says. “You have my address?”
“Yes.”
It occurs to Ellen to wonder why the Hewes women know where to find her. She has moved twice since the last time she saw Patty.
“See you soon,” she says.
Back to Part One
“Yes,” Ellen says.
Ellen hands Catherine her phone.
Catherine moves away from Ellen, toward the living room, making the call a little more private.
“Here goes nothing,” she says, and dials. She waits. “Voicemail,” she mouths at Ellen. She fidgets and then starts to leave a message.
“Hi, Grandma. Um. I’m staying at Ellen’s tonight. Ellen Parsons. At her apartment. She said it would be okay if it was okay with you. So, yeah. Call back if it isn’t okay.”
Catherine hangs up.
“I told you,” she tells Ellen. “She barely knows I exist.”
Ellen shrugs and looks sympathetic. She doesn’t want to agree with Catherine, but on the other hand, what kind of guardian doesn’t take a call at nine thirty at night?
“You want the couch or the air mattress?” Ellen says.
“Air mattress.”
“I’ll go get it.”
When the air mattress is blown up and Catherine is ready for bed Ellen sits on the couch. Catherine sits across from her in a chair, and Ellen gives her a long, hard look.
She is at a skinny, awkward age, but she has those amazing eyes, and her face is lovely and serious. But what Ellen notices most is how much Catherine looks like Patty. It’s not her features, but her motions and her expressions. Like now, when she casually picks at the lint on the arm of the chair she’s sitting in, and then half glances up and gives Ellen a falsely sweet smile to let her know that yes, she is kind of judging the furniture.
“So,” Ellen says. “Why did you run away?”
“I was sick of her bullshit,” Catherine says.
Ellen starts. The exact same words she herself once used with Patty.
“Sorry,” Catherine says, apologizing for her language, but tilting her chin in a way that says she isn’t sorry.
“Specifically?” Ellen prompts.
Catherine takes a breath. “She lies about stuff. She told me my mom was dead. Like, that’s what I thought when I was little.” Catherine gives Ellen an accusatory look. “My mom’s not dead,” she informs her, watching for a reaction.
“I know,” Ellen says.
Catherine seems pleased that Ellen didn’t pretend ignorance.
“And she won’t let me talk to my dad.”
Well. That Ellen can understand. The custody battle was fraught, to put it mildly. Ellen almost got involved, but Michael’s lawyer decided at the last second that her testimony might not help his case. In retrospect, Ellen is very, very glad.
“I see,” Ellen says.
Catherine’s eyes flash. “It’s not just that.”
Ellen waits.
“She expects me to be perfect. Like, if I don’t get a good grade, she acts like I did it on purpose to bother her.” Catherine worries her lip. “Sometimes I do,” she confesses. “Get bad grades on purpose to bother her.”
“Why?” Ellen says, feeling like she’s gone into shrink-mode.
“So she’ll pay attention. So she won’t think that I’m so perfect she doesn’t have to worry about me.”
“So she’ll think about you instead of about her case,” Ellen guesses.
Catherine nods.
“Did something happen today?” Ellen asks.
“What?” Catherine says.
“Did something happen with Patty today? Something that made you run away?”
Catherine considers. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she says finally.
“Okay,” Ellen says. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“G’night,” Ellen says, smiling.
“Goodnight.”
* * *
Once ready for bed, Ellen checks on Catherine, who is sleeping peacefully. She decides to call Patty, to make sure she really is okay with Catherine spending the night. And maybe, if she feels brave, to offer some subtle criticism of Patty’s parenting. She picks up her phone. She’s not sure if the number she has for Patty is current, so she hits redial.
“Ellen, honey? It’s late, is everything okay?” Ellen had been bracing herself to hear Patty’s voice, or at least Patty’s voicemail, and she is startled to hear her own mother’s voice instead.
“Oh. Yeah, Mom. Everything is good. I’m sorry. I called you by mistake.”
“I was in bed.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“That’s alright. Call me tomorrow?”
“Sure, Mom. Bye.”
Now Ellen is puzzled. She scrolls through the recently dialed numbers on her phone. All are familiar. None of them could be Patty’s number. And anyway, Catherine’s call to Patty should have been the most recent.
And then Ellen feels like a complete idiot. Of course. Catherine didn’t call Patty at all. She didn’t call anybody. She stood there in front of Ellen and put on a performance, and Ellen bought it.
* * *
Detective Huntley has left, and Patty is staring helplessly around her empty apartment. She would rather be out looking for Catherine, but she knows she should stay here in case Catherine comes home. She wants a drink, but decides it’s a bad idea.
She goes into Catherine’s room and sits on the bed. She picks up Blueberry and looks into the stuffed animal’s beaded eyes, trying to imagine she sees expression there. Corey died last year. Patty could have used his company tonight.
Her phone rings, and Patty goes rigid. “Yes?”
“Patty, Catherine’s safe. She’s here.”
“Thank God.” Patty collapses against the pillows, suffused with relief and gratitude. Then she realizes to whom she is speaking. “Ellen?”
* * *
“Yeah, it’s me,” Ellen says when Patty recognizes her voice.
“Catherine’s with you?” Ellen doesn’t think Patty meant for that to sound so much like an insult, but she can’t be sure.
“Yeah. She just - showed up at my apartment. I’m sorry, Patty, she told me - I thought you knew she was here.”
There’s a beat. Then, “Let me talk to her.” Patty’s voice has gone soft and dangerous.
“She’s sleeping.” Ellen says protectively.
“Sleeping? How long has she been with you?”
Ellen checks her watch. “Two hours.”
“Two hours,” Patty hisses. “And you call me now.”
Ellen swallows. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Like I said, I thought you knew. She said she called you. She also said you wouldn’t have missed her yet.”
“Yes, well,” Patty says. “She lies.”
“I know that now,” Ellen says.
“She’s been missing for seven hours,” Patty says. “I’ve been frantic.”
“Jesus,” Ellen exhales.
“I’m coming over,” Patty says.
“You think you should?” Ellen says. “Couldn’t we leave her until morning? Give everyone a chance to calm down?”
“Everyone?” Patty says.
“Well, okay, give you a chance to calm down, Patty.”
“I’ll be calmer when I’ve seen my granddaughter.”
Ellen can’t argue with that logic. “Okay,” she says. “You have my address?”
“Yes.”
It occurs to Ellen to wonder why the Hewes women know where to find her. She has moved twice since the last time she saw Patty.
“See you soon,” she says.
Back to Part One