I smiled gratefully, appreciative of her consideration. Many people had the impression of Cory as being shallow, thoughtless and self-centered—a party girl without a purpose. I knew her better than that.
Once the girls had disappeared from the kitchen, I went over to where my grandmother sat and wrapped my arms around her from behind.
“I’m sorry. I just thought maybe Aunt Karen was showing signs of…” I kissed the top of her head. “Oh hell Gram, I don’t know what I thought.”
She sat silently, slowly swirling the last mouthful in her glass. I waited patiently as she put her thoughts together.
“Meg, your aunt wasn’t always the way she is now.” She looked up, nodding faintly. “Now don’t misunderstand, she was always special, but her current state was brought on by tragedy.”
“You mean the accident.” Being the only tragedy I was aware of, confusion distorted my face when Gram shook her head. Puzzled, I asked, “Then what?”
With the help of the table, Gram stood and ventured over to the window. She peered out as if she expected someone to be listening at the screen. She returned her attention to me and sorrow filled her eyes as she began to speak.
“Karen was such a sweet child—did I ever tell you she was the greeter each week at church?”
I shook my head as Gram poured herself another drink.
“Yes, my little girl. She loved people. She had her challenges but what made her special was that she didn’t know she had them. Of course there were always a few rude people, but she was oblivious to them.”
My heart ached for my grandmother, as she talked about her daughter. The love in her eyes was as evident as the pain.
“Well, Pastor Graham thought that if she had more to occupy her time with, it would give her a feeling of self-worth and take some of the burden from me… you know, with her needing constant attention and all. So he gave her the job of folding the church bulletins every Friday.”
Gram peeked out the window and then turned sharply. “Meg, no one is ever to know I told you this, especially your grandfather, do you understand me?”
Her tone was beginning to scare me. I nodded.
She choked back the tears, as she began to speak. “Meg, while my little girl was there to fold bulletins, someone took advantage of her. She was…” Stifling a sob, she continued, “…she was raped in the basement of our little church.”
Words escaped me. What could I possibly say to her now that wouldn’t make her feel worse? I walked over to where she was standing, put my arms around her, and breathed, “I’m so sorry” into her steel gray hair—the only consoling gesture I could offer after what I had just heard.
As I stood there, feeling emotionally depleted, Gram swallowed hard and shook off her horrifying recollections. She slipped from my embrace and eased herself into her chair.
At that moment, I saw her in myself. I had obviously inherited the ability to separate myself from emotional pain from my grandmother.
Once she had consoled herself with the last mouthful of vodka in her glass, she looked at me and motioned me to sit.
“There’s a lot more, child. You’d better sit yourself down.”
Four
...He saw stained walls, missing linoleum tiles, stopgap equipment and—as he put it—not enough space to trip in. I saw what he didn’t. I saw the dream...
With a headache that could rock Gibraltar and unable to go back to sleep, I slowly opened my eyes. Between my everyday worries, last night’s screwdrivers and my grandmother’s shocking news, I felt as lost as an autumn leaf on a windy day.
“What time did you crawl in?” Even in my hung-over state, I noted the disgust in Brian’s tone.
The room had taken on an echo and my words came out as no more than a whisper.
“I have no clue.”
Brian strutted around the room, never taking his venom-filled eyes off me.
“Well then, by all means, allow me clue you in. At twelve-fifty-five, a cab pulled up in front of the building, backed up, beeped and pulled away. Four minutes later, the same cab returned, letting two women out. It promptly pulled away while one of the women stood on the sidewalk screaming, ‘Hey… Wait… Come back, I'm going with you’ —louder than if she were at a Steelers game.”
He paced back and forth in front of the bed, as he would a jury in a courtroom. I partially covered my head in an attempt to avoid his mocking stare. He continued, “Considering how loudly the woman yelled it’s no wonder the cabdriver heard her and returned. And as she stumbled into the cab, the other woman," he motioned to me, "Exhibit A…" he paused, "…stumbled up the front steps while a neighbor yelled from her window for everyone to shut up.”