Chapter 41
41
After dressing, I went back to the yoga tent and peeked in a window. Sol was crouching beside Ramit, rubbing his back, while Moon held Ramit’s head between her hands, eyes closed, murmuring something. I backed away, disturbed. In the midst of all this, Moon and Sol were still running their retreat. Ramit and Dawne had no idea what was happening here behind closed doors.
“Thea.” Karen walked up to me on the path. “How are you feeling?”
God, I was sick of people asking me that.
“I’m fine.” I said the words coldly.
“Look.” She raised her hands. “I’m sorry that I lied to you. I really am. But my intentions were good. Don’t let your anger at me keep you from staying here.” She paused, her turquoise eyes jumping around my face. “ Are you thinking of staying here?”
“I don’t know.” I cleared my throat. “I’m considering it, but I want to be able to talk to Catherine alone first.”
“Great.” Karen gestured. “Let me take you to her.”
“Really?”
“Yes. If you stay, it needs to be of your own free will. You deserve to have all the info you need.” She continued on the path towards the castle. “Just… maybe don’t tell Moon and Sol.”
“Deal.” So Karen, at least, still had some sense of agency. I followed her. “During that group meeting, you said something about needing to figure out if you felt ‘the right way’ about me? What did that mean?”
Instead of answering, Karen gave me a long look. “You have children, Thea?”
“No.” It always felt strange when people asked me that, although there were plenty of people younger than my thirty-three years who did.
“Me either. But it’s strange, because for my whole life I’ve felt like a mother.” She shrugged. “When my sister had kids, I assumed that would fulfill it. But no. I love Grace and her brothers very much, but they don’t feel like my children. There was even this point where I thought about adopting in my forties. But Art and I decided against it. It was weird, this feeling, like… what do they call it? Phantom limb? Like I already had kids, but I didn’t know who they were. When I came here and met Catherine… well.” She smiled, sticking her hands into her cargo pants. “I felt it immediately. This sense that Catherine was my daughter.”
“And when you met Steven, you felt like he was your husband?” I broke in.
Karen scratched her chin. “He annoyed me, in a really personal way, even though he didn’t do a thing to me. I don’t think our marriage was a happy one.”
“Okay. But you felt motherly towards Catherine.”
“Yes. Straightaway.” She glanced at me. “I feel the same way about you.”
Her words made me uncomfortable. I hadn’t really thought about it, but I had felt a warmth, even a protectiveness, from Karen this weekend.
But it was just her, right? Wouldn’t anyone feel this way towards an older woman with twinkling eyes and a kind smile?
“Why did you have to pretend to be new here?” I asked.
“I needed to be able to interact with you intimately. So I could know.” She leaned in, eager to explain. “You didn’t hang out much with Grace or Steven, right?”
“Right,” I conceded. A new question arose. “By the way, your session—were you just making all that up?”
“Not at all.” She sounded firm. “I’ve broken my pattern, but it’s not hard to tap back into it. It will always exist inside of me.”
We arrived at the courtyard, and Karen walked us confidently up flights of stairs and down halls until we reached Catherine’s door. She knocked. “Hon? It’s me, Karen. Thea’s here with me. She wants to talk to you.”
After a second, the door opened. Catherine waited, her face blank.
“Okay.” Karen nodded at me. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Back inside Catherine’s room, I had more time to process what I was seeing. It was messy in here: piles of clothes on the floor, sheets hanging off the bed. The table, scattered with books, held a full plate of untouched food: eggs, toast, yogurt topped with berries.
“Not hungry?” I sat at the table and touched the nearest book: The Chalice and the Blade , a vintage paperback with a rounded goddess statue on the front.
“No.” She plopped across from me, looking much the way she had in the yoga tent: drained, deflated.
“So…” I wondered how to begin. This was my one chance to convince her; I had to do so delicately.
“You should go, Thea.” Her gaze flicked up to mine. “You shouldn’t be involved in all this.”
“Why is that?” I leaned forward. “You told me we were connected in a past life when we were back in the hospital. You don’t believe it now?”
“I…” Her mouth hung open. She shut it abruptly. “It’s complicated. But just trust me.”
“Okay. But Catherine.” I opened my palms. “I have to be honest. I’m a little concerned about you.”
“Oh yeah?” She stared down at the table.
“Yeah. You seem a little… off. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks, and that can be really destabilizing.”
She chuckled weakly, shaking her head.
“How are you feeling?” I pushed.
“Fucking great.” She rolled her eyes; that felt more like the Catherine I remembered from the hospital.
“I know that this is your community. And that you care a lot about these people. And—that you’re all doing really important work together. But…” I took a deep breath. “I wonder if this is the best place for you at this moment.”
The dark eye circles set off her bright green eyes; they looked almost lime in the dim light. “What are you saying?”
“I think you should come with me today.” I pressed on as her eyes narrowed. “Just for a little bit. Just until you’re feeling better. Less tired. You know? I think there may be some… pressure that you’re feeling here.”
She continued to stare at me.
“Maybe it takes an outsider to see it,” I went on. “But I can tell that you might be struggling. Which totally makes sense.”
“So where do you think I should go?” She pulled the plate in front of her and started shoveling eggs into her mouth. I winced; they must be cold.
“Well, you could go anywhere from the airport. There are places all over the country that would be good for you. You know, if you have the money—”
“I have no money.” Yellow flecks flew out of her mouth.
“Okay. Well, maybe your parents—”
She pushed the plate away roughly. A piece of toast flipped over onto the table. “You want to know about my parents? My dad was a fucking creep.”
I waited. After a moment, she continued more softly. “He didn’t act like a father’s supposed to act with their kid. At least after I turned twelve. He’d barge into my room when I was changing, try to get me to sit on his lap, hug me in a weird way… And the one time I tried to talk to my mom, she grounded me. Said I was lying. So.” She shrugged.
“I’m so sorry.” The suspicions I’d had hardened into reality. Catherine’s father had abused her. And her mother, instead of helping, had punished her.
“Yeah.” Catherine rubbed at her eye viciously. “The only person I ever told was Sebastian. Until Moon, of course.”
Sebastian Smith: her costar in Stargirl . My former crush.
“That’s my pattern.” She stretched her lips, but it wasn’t a smile. “Moon calls them echoes —past life patterns showing up in this life. But it doesn’t feel like an echo. It feels real.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I’m sure you had it too.” She gestured to me. “The pattern. Mine was with my dad and Sebastian. The pharaoh and the guard. Sebastian tried to protect me, but he couldn’t do much. But Moon…”
“She was the queen, right?” I asked softly. Maybe I could use this delusion to convince Catherine to come with me.
“Yeah.”
“Why does she call the shots?” I asked. “Why do you trust her?”
Catherine just shrugged.
“I’m your sister, right?” I went on. “Maybe you should listen to me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. One rolled slowly her cheek.
“You can trust me,” I continued, feeling encouraged. “I want to help you.”
“It’s too late.” She wiped the tear away.
“What’s too late?”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
She didn’t respond, and I continued. “I can tell something’s not right here. That you’re not all right. I’m a social worker; let me help you figure this out. Come back to New York. You can stay with me.”
“New York?” she said uncertainly.
“Yes. We’ll find a place where you can get help, and then after, we’ll do all the things—go to art museums, movies, Central Park…”
She stared down at the table. Some inner calculation was happening behind her eyes.
“You like shopping? We’ll go shopping…” I said the words as a kind of lullaby. “Broadway shows… or off Broadway, whatever you prefer.”
A slight smile. I had her; I could feel it.
“All you have to do is come with us after lunch,” I said, then held my breath.
“No.” Her eyes snapped up at me, a new determination behind them. “We have to leave tonight.”
I exhaled. “Tonight?”
“We have to leave secretly. They won’t let me go otherwise.”
“You want us to drive away in the middle of the night?”
“Yes.” She gazed at me, defiant. “You think this will be easy?” Her volume increased. “That they’ll just let me fucking leave?”
“Okay.” I held out a hand, placating. “Fine. We’ll leave tonight. If that’s what we need to do.” I wasn’t thrilled about the prospect: taking one of the Center’s cars and leaving it at the airport. But they had a second vehicle; they could come get it. Catherine’s mental health was more important.
“Really?” She looked uncertain but hopeful, like a child who’d gotten a whole cake she’d pointed at.
“Really.” I pulled out my phone. “What time should we leave?”
“Let’s leave at four a.m. The keys—”
“Are in the lobby. I know.”
“Okay.” Her whole body relaxed—shoulders slumping, head lowering. It was like she’d just completed a marathon.
“You’re going to set your phone’s alarm?” I asked.
“Don’t worry.” She stood unsteadily and went to the bed, where she collapsed. Her words were half mumbled into a pillow. “I’ll be up.”