The Forgotten Hours(44)
Her movements were quick, as though she only decided to move or talk a split second before she did it. Even then Katie recognized this quality as unusual in a parent. Her expression was open and uncomplicated, her skin pale as skim milk and nothing like her daughter’s. She had dark eyes that moved restlessly from Katie’s father to Katie and back to her father again. When they shook hands, John’s face broke into a toothy smile that made Katie cringe.
Later, when Mrs. Henderson leaned over to hand her some brownies as they sat watching movies in the living room, her breath—sweet with the smell of alcohol—grazed Katie’s cheek like a light kiss that was familiar and comforting. The brownies were gooey in the middle, and she ate them ferociously, as though she hadn’t eaten in days. Mrs. Henderson cracked another wine cooler and sat facing the girls in a large armchair, taking off her nail polish.
“Wanna do my nails?” she asked Lulu.
“Ugh,” Lulu said, not moving her eyes from the television. “Do it yourself, Mom.”
“I’ll do it,” Katie said. Her hair stuck to her face; the apartment had no air-conditioning, and she needed a shower, but their one bathroom had only a plastic shower stall tucked in the corner, and it was small and dirty.
“Lu,” her mother said sharply, “I’m talking to you.”
“Mom, I said I’m busy,” Lulu whined. Her expression stayed blank, but her mother’s face transformed instantaneously: something gathered behind her eyes and her lips.
“Don’t talk to me like that when you’ve got your fancy friend here!”
Lulu and Katie straightened up. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Lulu said. “It’s just—this show? I love this show.”
Her mother lurched forward, and her hand shot out so fast there was no time to anticipate the slap. “Thankless little hussy.” A vein crossing Mrs. Henderson’s neck cast a pale-blue shadow, the faintest river of blood pulsing under her white skin.
The air trembled with unpredictability. This was not what Katie had expected, and she felt the urge to protect her friend in some way. She thought about the next day, when they’d both be heading back to Eagle Lake; they only had to get through this one night, and they’d be back on Katie’s turf. She had never before heard a parent talk that way to a child or strike one in the face, or anywhere else for that matter. Mrs. Henderson tipped her head back and drained her pink sunset cooler. She seemed cold, when just minutes earlier she’d been so warm.
Katie stood up, her legs uncertain under her, and went over to the side table, where there were a few sticky bottles of polish along with a file and some cotton wool. “Here,” she said, her voice ringing out in the silence. “Let’s try this color, okay?”
The girl and the woman sat side by side on the couch. Mrs. Henderson’s nail beds were narrow, the skin on the backs of her hands soft, as though she never washed dishes or cleaned bathrooms. Lulu had once said her mother brought in extra money as a hand model. “Um, your hands,” Katie said. “They’re so pretty.”
But Mrs. Henderson said nothing. The color in her cheeks faded back to normal, and her eyes seemed to fade too. The nail polish bled over the edges onto her skin, and the more Katie tried to wipe the excess off, the messier it became. When they’d arrived, Piper had promised them a macaroni casserole, but Lulu and Katie went to bed that night hungry. They didn’t stay up to talk or play cards. It wasn’t until the next morning when they climbed back into the Falcon—after John Gregory had kissed Mrs. Henderson on both cheeks, the sharp odor of his aftershave cutting through the smell of brewing coffee—that they could hold each other’s gaze again.
Without saying anything, Lulu was telling her friend, Don’t ask. The dull shuttering of her eyes underscored that Lulu badly needed Katie to play along. That she knew Katie saw her for who she really was, and that was okay, but only if no one said it aloud. Lulu needed her, and feeling needed was amazing.
Katie never asked to stay over there again. Later, when Lulu was at Eagle Lake, chatting mindlessly about whatever came into her mind, Katie would think back to that night, to the slap and all that hadn’t been articulated. If she was honest with herself, it might have been then that she stopped entirely believing everything Lulu said. She’d started to understand there was a chasm between how people saw their lives, how they wanted others to see them, and how they really were. A chasm that was too deep and dark to explore.
20
There was nothing else for her to do other than climb out of the car and head toward Piper Henderson. When Piper saw her approaching, she cocked her head and clattered down the stairs. Katie couldn’t take her eyes off the woman; she was girlish, but there was something off about her. Velour leggings revealed long legs and bagged around her knees. A white sweatshirt bore the logo of Manchester Community College, the collar cut off. Her body was still slim, but her eyes had settled back into the folds of her face, which was puffy like the face of a child in the early morning. Pulling fiercely on her cigarette, Piper let the smoke stream out of her nostrils as she approached.
“You who I think you are?” she asked, not hostile but not friendly either.
The last time Katie had seen her was at the courthouse when Katie had taken the stand. The pouchy, sickly look of her skin was alarming. Katie smiled nervously. Her hands were clammy, and she rubbed them on her thighs. “Yes, Katherine Gregory. Um, Katie.”