Page 65 of Dreams of Falling
“I saw the mural you painted at the ice-cream store.”
Bitty is sitting close to my bed, her hands clasped together like she’s praying. Her hair is bright red, the spikes beginning to wilt as the hair grows longer. I guess it’s because she’s been here since my accident and hasn’t been home to get it cut. She speaks quietly so no one else can hear her.
“I knew you’d painted it even before I asked Gabriel. I recognized your style. Your creativity with the little details. It’s what sets you apart, that attention to detail. I don’t think you learned that from me, so I won’t try to take credit. Although maybe I should. I bought you your first easel-and-brush set, remember? You’re a fine artist, Ivy. A very fine artist.”
She looks down at her nails. They’re starting to grow out, too, but they’re still ragged and stained at the beds with dark paint, and I can tell she bites them. This must be a new habit, because I don’t remember her biting her nails before. Must be since my accident.
We’ve all changed since then. Besides being unable to communicate, I don’t dream anymore, either. I’m convinced this means I’m in a dream already. Larkin always told me that dreams are meant to teachus something. So, I’m waiting to learn whatever it is and move on. I have my suspicions. Whatever it is that I’m supposed to learn has something to do with Ceecee and Larkin. And me. Because each time they come talk to me and tell me something new, I feel myself get lighter.
“I saw what you painted in the corner, that little detail you have to know to look for. Being artists means we’re different from others. We see so much, don’t we? Things others are blissfully unaware of. It’s a burden, isn’t it?”
Bitty sits up straighter and begins to cough, and thin black clouds like crows form around her head. I don’t think they’re real. I think they exist in my dream, so only I can see them. But they’re there, and she’s coughing out all that toxic air, cigarette smoke, and secrets trapped inside her. And each time she coughs, I feel a slackening of my tethers, a slight release in the tension, and I think I’m onto something here. The ceiling crackles above me, and I know that I am right.
She runs her hand through the droopy red spikes on top of her head. “I wondered why you’d been asking about the insurance, and about removing Ceecee as trustee. And then when I saw the mural, I understood. You must have remembered something from the night of the fire.” She’s silent for a moment, thinking. “And whatever happened to make you remember wasn’t recent, was it? Mack and Bennett seem to think it’s connected to the developers’ interest, but I disagree. I believe it’s something else entirely. Because I happen to know that you’ve always been one to chew on a hurt, taking your time before deciding what to do. You didn’t tell anyone what you remembered because you needed to think about it first. And the way you think through your problems is by being creative. Like sewing new curtains for your dining room. Or painting a mural.”
She sits back in her chair. “I’ve figured that whatever it was that made you remember that night of the fire happened somewhere around the time you went to see the lawyer. I just can’t decipher what that could have been.”
She coughs again, and the crows lift from around her head like a cyclone, circling the ceiling and attempting to flit through thewidening cracks, but their wings are too big, and they fall down to the floor in a sooty heap.
Bitty takes a bottle of water from her large purse and drinks about half of it before putting it down. “There’s so much you don’t know. Things that happened before you were born.” She leans forward. “We only kept secrets because we wanted to protect you. And Larkin. Please know that. Our choices were made out of love.”
She sits back in her chair, exhausted. I know what it means to make choices out of love. Just ask Larkin. Love, I have found, is a treacherous companion. When you do something out of love, it usually backfires. People need to know that. They need to know that they should do something because it’s the right thing to do and not because they feel they have to because of love. It’s the best way to destroy it.
“Open your eyes and talk to me, Ivy.” Bitty’s voice is pleading, and that scares me a little, even more than the black crows coming from her mouth. She’s always been so bossy and take-charge. To hear her plead breaks my heart.
“I want to tell you the whole story. What Ceecee and I should have told you long ago. Before you discovered something by accident, and perhaps misunderstood. I wanted to, but Ceecee didn’t want to upset you. Because she loves you. So do I, but I’ve found that keeping secrets is never the way to show love.”
There’s fluttering up by the ceiling, and I see the crows again, perched upside down with their claws in the cracks, their beady black eyes staring down at Bitty. What did she say about me asking about the insurance, the trusteeship? As if someone has suddenly turned on a fan, the burning smell of paint thinner wafts across my nose, erasing the hospital smell of disinfectant and latex.
And that’s when I remember where I was and what I had been doing when I discovered a truth about the night my mother died. Remember how the world seemed to crash in on me as I tried to put the pieces together, and understand how so many lies could have been told in the name of love.
I feel the anger that’s anchored me to my bed begin to slide away like unlocked handcuffs. I remember why I was at Carrowmore. WhyI put my ribbon in the tree. And I at last know why there were two ribbons stuck in the tree after I fell through the rotting wood floor and the world crashed in on me for real.
•••
Ceecee
1951
A week after finding out about Margaret’s pregnancy, Ceecee and Boyd were sitting on the front-porch swing at her parents’ house. Boyd had moved in to the Griffiths’ carriage house two days earlier and had already started meeting Dr. Griffith’s patients. Despite appearances that all her wishes were coming true, Ceecee couldn’t overlook the heavy stone in the pit of her stomach. It was as if she were sitting in a boat in strong wind with her eyes closed, wondering from which side the waves would strike and how high they’d be.
She’d told Boyd about Margaret’s baby, even though Bitty had pleaded with her not to. But Margaret had asked her to tell him, believing that Boyd might be able to reach Reggie. It also had allowed Boyd, as a doctor, to ask her about her condition and give her advice on the pregnancy without giving her a full exam. She needed one, but Boyd also understood that since Dr. Griffith was good friends with Mr. Darlington, that would be out of the question.
Ceecee was torn between her love for and devotion to her friend, and her all-consuming love for Boyd. She’d once believed that loving more than one person—a friend, a child, a husband—just meant your heart was supposed to get bigger to accommodate all of that love. Yet she found herself resenting Margaret for her demands on Ceecee’s and Boyd’s attention and affection, Ceecee’s heart seeming to shrink as it sought to exclude her friend.
The more Ceecee felt guilty over her unsettled feelings about the time Boyd spent with Margaret, the more she overcompensated, showering Margaret with affection and impromptu gifts of flowers from her garden and pretty ribbons for her hair to brighten the limp strands and the paleness of her skin. Bitty simply stood by in silence,smoking her cigarettes, her eyes silent as if she were watching an epic movie unfolding on the big screen.
Boyd had informed them that Reggie had already been sent to a training camp in Japan. Margaret’s only hope was that he’d come home in time to marry her before she started showing. Except for Margaret, none of them saw that as a feasible option. Boyd suggested that Margaret tell her parents as soon as possible so that her mother could orchestrate a visit to her fictional old maiden aunt in Columbia until the baby was born, and then the Darlingtons could pretend to adopt the child of an impoverished relation and raise it as their own. It had been done enough times for them to think it could work. All Margaret had to do was find the courage to tell her parents. Something she was struggling to do.
“Have you spoken with Margaret today?” Boyd asked.
Ceecee shook her head. “No, but Bitty and I are planning to visit her tomorrow. I’m not sure if she realizes that she’s running out of time. I’m worried about her. She’s so thin, it just can’t be good for her or the baby.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. He put his arm around her. “I feel partially responsible for all this. Reggie’s my younger brother. I know we’re both adults, but I’ve felt responsible for him my whole life. I hope Margaret knows that she can turn to me for guidance in Reggie’s absence.”
“I’m sure she does,” Ceecee said stiffly.
“You’re a good friend to her, Sessalee. I hope she knows it.”
