Read Online What You Remember I Did by Janet Berliner, Janet & Tem Berliner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Janet Berliner, Janet & Tem Berliner
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allow that terrible creature in this house again." She meant it. The character she was playing meant it. She was not quite sure who the "terrible creature" was or what he or she had done, but the passion strengthened her.
"Maybe not."
"Such filth! Such degradation!" She remembered now: Sodomized . Not a word any lady would ever allow into her thoughts.
"If it's true."
Without missing a beat, Catherine declaimed with just as much fervor, "A man wrongly accused! We must stand by him! We must trust in what we know him to be!" She meant it. The character she was playing meant it. She could not quite remember who had been wrongly accused of what, but the passion enlivened her.
"Maybe." Nan was crying in earnest now.
Catherine went to her and stroked her hair, soothing her like that Mrs. March, mother of four daughters in Little Women . Nan leaned her head against her mother's bosom. Catherine wept.
Then she helped with preparations for a long visit from Jordan. Jordan was herâmy goodness!âgreat-granddaughter. They readied the guest room and hung Princess Bride towels in the guest bathroom.
Then this nice woman helped her get ready for bed, brushing her hair so many long, firm strokes that Catherine was half-asleep and crooning before she was even tucked into bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
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Having made sure her mother was in bed and well on her way toward sleep, Nan checked her email. There was no message from Eliot. Should she let it go, chalk it up to meanness or mental illness or a disgusting prank?
Even if she should, she couldn't. She typed in his name and wrote, "Please, Eliot, tell me more. It's not fair to drop this bombshell without giving me specifics so I can figure out what I'm dealing with. May I talk to your therapist? Are you still seeing the same one?"
She hesitated, then just signed off. It took her a long time to fall asleep.
When she got home from work the next day and opened the front door, she heard a man's voice in her living room. Matt Mullen, reading poetry. Fleetingly, she was pleased to recognize T.S. Eliot. The rhythm was impeccable. That was something she had always loved about Gary: his way of absorbing the music and the beat of things and conveying them to her.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Pawâ/For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law./He's the bafflement/ of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's/ despair:/For when they reach the scene of crimeâ Macavity's not there!
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Nan felt herself flush with an uncomfortable mixture of resentment because she had not invited Matt to her home, and anticipation because she'd been missing him. It wasn't until she stood in the open doorway that she realized his voice was coming from a video. Catherine sat on the sofa, entranced.
"Where did you get that?" Nan tried to keep her voice even
"Your poet brought it over for me. It's a tape of one of his readings, when he was on a panel about poetry and verse for children."
Nan felt sick. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I am telling you, Nanny. He brought it today." Things always got worse when her mother reverted to "Nanny."
"I'm not mad at you. It's just hard for me."
"I asked him to come to dinner tonight."
"You did what?"
The old woman's lower lip quivered admirably. "Please don't uninvite him." She looked at Nan beseechingly and added, "He's bringing Chinese." When that inducement didn't work, she tried, "Maybe we can get to the truth of things
"Did you forget that Jordan's coming?"
"No. Yes. I did forget. But what's thatâ" Catherine's eyes widened. "You don't think he wouldâ"
"I don't know what he would do, Mother. Neither do you. That's the point. I'm going to check my email."
There was a message from Eliot. "Of course you may not talk to my therapist. She's busy. She helps a lot of people. I've said all I'm going to say. I'd prefer it if you don't contact me again."
Nan sighed and sat back. A half a dozen email exchanges and the only vaguely
"Maybe not."
"Such filth! Such degradation!" She remembered now: Sodomized . Not a word any lady would ever allow into her thoughts.
"If it's true."
Without missing a beat, Catherine declaimed with just as much fervor, "A man wrongly accused! We must stand by him! We must trust in what we know him to be!" She meant it. The character she was playing meant it. She could not quite remember who had been wrongly accused of what, but the passion enlivened her.
"Maybe." Nan was crying in earnest now.
Catherine went to her and stroked her hair, soothing her like that Mrs. March, mother of four daughters in Little Women . Nan leaned her head against her mother's bosom. Catherine wept.
Then she helped with preparations for a long visit from Jordan. Jordan was herâmy goodness!âgreat-granddaughter. They readied the guest room and hung Princess Bride towels in the guest bathroom.
Then this nice woman helped her get ready for bed, brushing her hair so many long, firm strokes that Catherine was half-asleep and crooning before she was even tucked into bed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Â
Having made sure her mother was in bed and well on her way toward sleep, Nan checked her email. There was no message from Eliot. Should she let it go, chalk it up to meanness or mental illness or a disgusting prank?
Even if she should, she couldn't. She typed in his name and wrote, "Please, Eliot, tell me more. It's not fair to drop this bombshell without giving me specifics so I can figure out what I'm dealing with. May I talk to your therapist? Are you still seeing the same one?"
She hesitated, then just signed off. It took her a long time to fall asleep.
When she got home from work the next day and opened the front door, she heard a man's voice in her living room. Matt Mullen, reading poetry. Fleetingly, she was pleased to recognize T.S. Eliot. The rhythm was impeccable. That was something she had always loved about Gary: his way of absorbing the music and the beat of things and conveying them to her.
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Pawâ/For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law./He's the bafflement/ of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's/ despair:/For when they reach the scene of crimeâ Macavity's not there!
Â
Nan felt herself flush with an uncomfortable mixture of resentment because she had not invited Matt to her home, and anticipation because she'd been missing him. It wasn't until she stood in the open doorway that she realized his voice was coming from a video. Catherine sat on the sofa, entranced.
"Where did you get that?" Nan tried to keep her voice even
"Your poet brought it over for me. It's a tape of one of his readings, when he was on a panel about poetry and verse for children."
Nan felt sick. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I am telling you, Nanny. He brought it today." Things always got worse when her mother reverted to "Nanny."
"I'm not mad at you. It's just hard for me."
"I asked him to come to dinner tonight."
"You did what?"
The old woman's lower lip quivered admirably. "Please don't uninvite him." She looked at Nan beseechingly and added, "He's bringing Chinese." When that inducement didn't work, she tried, "Maybe we can get to the truth of things
"Did you forget that Jordan's coming?"
"No. Yes. I did forget. But what's thatâ" Catherine's eyes widened. "You don't think he wouldâ"
"I don't know what he would do, Mother. Neither do you. That's the point. I'm going to check my email."
There was a message from Eliot. "Of course you may not talk to my therapist. She's busy. She helps a lot of people. I've said all I'm going to say. I'd prefer it if you don't contact me again."
Nan sighed and sat back. A half a dozen email exchanges and the only vaguely
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