Complementary Colors (40 page)

The white rabbit half-lidded its eyes.

“Your advocate spoke on your behalf to the judge, but since you’ve been given guardianship of yourself, the judge says it’s up to you and you alone to decide whether or not you talk to her.”

I turned my head to the right. Maybe the rabbit didn’t like that cut of meat.

“I’m going to strongly advise you not to talk to her.”

I guess the rabbit wasn’t hungry.

“A call will be routed to your room in the next half-hour.”

Why did Carmichael sound so nervous?

“You can choose to ignore the phone call.”

My nose itched, but it was too far away for me to scratch it.

“Paris, I need you to pay attention and listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you.” He knelt. “The judge made his decision a week ago. You’re your own guardian now. You can tell her no. You can refuse anything she asks you. She cannot control your life anymore.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Please let me know you heard me.”

“I heard you.”

He nodded. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

I stayed on the floor, and the rabbit remained on my chest. I had no intentions of answering the phone when it rang, but the rabbit sat up.

It rang again.

The rabbit leaned over me.

“What?”

Another ring.

It jumped off my chest.

“Was that a hint?”

The shadows under the bed swallowed him whole except for his fluffy white tail. Then it hopped, and it was gone too.

I could just let the phone ring. Carmichael said I didn’t have to answer it. Maybe it was years of programming and doing what Julia said, or maybe I just wanted to stop the excruciating sound, but I forced myself to my knees. The cord dangled from the bedside table. I yanked the phone onto the floor. The receiver bounced off the side of the bed, the door on the table, and came to rest on the floor. I put it to my ear and lay back down.

“Paris?”

When Roy said my name, it filled me with warmth. When Julia said it, I became covered in a million biting ants.

“Yes.”

“Oh thank God. I’ve been trying to get Carmichael to let me speak to you for weeks. He wouldn’t. He got the courts involved. It’s a big mess, Paris. Are you all right?”

Her fake concern turned the ants into wasps.

The rabbit came from under the bed and settled on my chest again. I scratched its ears.

“I’m fine.”

“I want you to come home.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. The lawyer said you can change doctors. All you have to do is request they send you to Dr. Mason’s facility. I won’t make you stay in that horrible place. I’ll make sure Dr. Mason signs you out.”

“Maybe I want to.”

“What do you mean?”

I moved to a spot on the rabbit’s shoulder. It kicked up a foot when I scratched.

“You only want me home so I can paint for you.”

“That’s not true. Alice has been beside herself.”

That I believed. “Tell her I’m fine. She believes everything you say.”

“That’s not the point. You belong here. At home. Other people miss you too.”

“People miss buying my works. They don’t miss me.” I closed my eyes. The rabbit stretched out on my chest. I ran my hand down its body in long languid strokes. “But it doesn’t matter because I can’t paint for them anymore.”

A cold silence met me from the other end of the line. Julia was transforming. Shedding her concern and extending her claws. Becoming the daughter who helped her father hide his sin.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s gone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I let the monster out, but it wasn’t a monster, it was a boy. No more secrets, Julia. No more lies.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I don’t have to paint it anymore.”

“Paint what?”

“The secret.”

“Paris…”

“The rabbit helped me tell them.”

“What the hell have they done to you?” Her words bit the air.

“Nothing, except believe me.”

“Come home.”

“Sell the apartment, take the money and move somewhere else. I’m going to stay here, then maybe rent a place on the East Side.”

“That’s a ghetto.”

“They only stole my wallet, cell phone, and shoes.”

The rabbit rested its head on its paws. Its dark eyes were closed, and its small mouth went slack. “Do you think rabbits dream?”

“What?”

“Rabbits. When they sleep. Do you think they dream?”

“Like I give a fuck.”

“Ah, there you are. I wondered when the real you would make an appearance.”

“You tell that crack doctor of yours to transfer you to Mason’s facility. I am not giving up my life so you can play sick in the loony bin. You will come home. You will paint. And you will attend every showing I book.”

“How does it feel to not be able to touch me anymore? I can do what I want now. And you know what I want? To never paint those horrible pictures again. I like flowers. I think that’s what I will paint. Or maybe trees and mountains.”

Julia’s breathing quickened, and with each exhale, there was a sharp squeak.

“Or maybe I won’t paint at all.” That wasn’t true, but I knew if I didn’t, it would be a stake right through her bank account.

“Yes, you will.”

“No. No. I don’t think so. I’m hanging up now. The rabbit is taking a nap, and I think I’ll take one with it.” I reached for the cradle.

I still had the receiver close enough to my ear to hear her say, “If you don’t come home, I will make sure your boyfriend rots in jail.”

My thoughts tripped, then reason took hold. “You can’t just put someone in jail.”

“I don’t have to. He’s already there.”

I sat upright, and the rabbit tumbled away.

“That’s right, little brother. Your boyfriend is in jail because he wouldn’t tell me where you were. I even went to that shit hole of his and offered him money. When that didn’t work, I filed abduction charges against him. He told the judge what happened, but he wouldn’t tell him where you were even when he was ordered to.”

“No.”

“Did you know he’s served time in prison before? Would be a shame if they were to search his apartment and find drugs? How many years do you think he’d get? I’m sure it will be a lot longer than three.

“Right now it’s only contempt and his thirty days are up tomorrow. If you don’t come home, I’ll make sure the police get an anonymous tip. And they’ll find more than enough to charge him with distribution.”

She had me, and she knew it.

“I’ll have Dr. Mason get the transfer papers ready and send a car in the morning.” Julia hung up.

I cornered Carmichael in his office. “Did you know?”

He moved papers around on his desk.

“You did.”

“He’ll be out tomorrow.”

“You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

“It was for the best.” He went back to reading the papers on his desk.

“You had no right.”

“You weren't in any condition to handle the news. You still aren’t.”

“Yeah, well, because of you, Julia’s going to make sure Roy goes back to prison.”

A smile cocked his lips. “I know you’re used to her controlling your life, but I promise you, Julia does not have the power you think she does. She just can’t wave her hand and make him stay.”

“She can if she puts drugs in his apartment and calls the cops. He has a felony on his record. They’ll bury him.”

The crow’s feet around Carmichael’s eyes tightened. “If she’s threatening you, we need to call your advocate.”

“No. You should have told me. You should have done something to protect Roy. You know what she’s capable of. I told you what she’s capable of.”

“I’ll call Mike. He’ll make sure Roy will be okay.”

“I can’t take that chance.”

“And it’s out of your hands.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit and we’ll talk.”

“I’m done talking. I want a transfer.”

He folded his hands across his stomach. “And where do you plan on going?” The smirk on his face was nothing like Julia’s because it wasn’t cruel, but it was enough to remind me of her.

“To Ridgefield. Dr. Mason’s facility.”

“I’m sorry, Paris, but I can’t allow that.”

I walked over and planted my hands on the edge of his desk. “I may not be able to leave, but I know I have the right to choose where I want to receive treatment. You can’t deny my request. I’m my own guardian, remember? If you want to keep your license, I suggest you transfer me.”

“It will take time. I’ll have to contact Ridgefield so they can draw up the admissions forms.”

“They’re already on their way. Sign them. Julia is sending a car for me in the morning.”

“You can’t go back to her.” Dr. Carmichael pleaded with his eyes. “Mike is working on some leads. He’ll get evidence and take it to the police. If she finds out they’re going to press charges, she could become dangerous.”

“She’s already dangerous.”

“More dangerous.”

“Julia can’t get any more dangerous.”

“I know you think you know your sister, but I promise you, you don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Sit. Please.”

“I don’t want to sit.”

He opened his desk drawer and took out a folder. “This is a missing person’s report.”

“The boy?” Maybe his name was in there. Maybe I would finally know.

“No.” Carmichael laid the folder on his desk. “This report was filed about four years before you were born.”

I reached for the folder, but he didn’t move his hand.

“Please sit.”

It was the tone of his voice. I’m not sure how to describe it. Dark gray, with orange maybe.

I pushed the cushy chair closer to his desk and sat. I reached for the file again. He still didn’t remove his hand.

“I didn’t want to show you this yet.”

“Why?”

“You’re not ready to see it.”

“Then why are you showing me now?”

“Because I need you to understand how important it is for you to stay here.”

I tugged on the file. After a long moment, he lifted his hand. Now that the folder was mine, I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it. “What’s in it besides the report?” It was too thick to just be a few sheets of paper.

“A couple of newspaper articles. And a few photos from Goldleaf Middle School.”

“Where is that?”

“Connecticut.”

Julia and Alice had been born in Connecticut. I started to open the file. Carmichael stopped me. The war between his professionalism and his desperation played through his features. Apparently, desperation won, because he let go.

I opened the file.

The words of the police report turned to gibberish the moment I saw the picture. The boy was too thin, pale, with dark hair and eyes. I knew him. I knew him, but I didn’t. Yet I’d stared at his face every time I looked in a mirror at the age of eight.

“His name was Andrew.”

I traced the shape of his face with my finger. He even had a mole on his neck close to his collarbone.

Mine was on the right, his was on the left.

“He was a year younger than Julia.”

There was another picture. He stood between Julia and Alice. She held his hand, and Julia looked like she was trying to convince herself no one else was there.

“The police report stated he’d disappeared on his way home from school. But there were inconsistencies in statements taken from Julia and Harrison’s and the one taken from Alice.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Did he like to paint like me? What was his favorite food? Did he hide in the dark from Harrison like I had?

“They never found a body.”

“But he’s dead.”

“Presumably, yes.”

“What happened?”

Carmichael pursed his lips. I leafed through the pages. There was only the missing person’s report and a few vague notes. An article in the paper gave a brief description with a plea for help. “Tell me what happened to him.”

“They don’t know exactly.”

“What do they think happened?”

“Going by the inconsistencies between the statements, I believe Harrison killed him.” But there was more. So much more.

“What else do you believe?”

Carmichael scrubbed a hand over his mouth. He aged a hundred years sitting there in front of me. “I was able to contact the school counselor working at Gold Leaf Middle School. She told me Andrew had begun to display behaviors associated with sexual abuse.”

“Isn’t it illegal for her to tell you stuff?”

“It is. But she’s in her seventies and is no longer practicing. She blames herself for what happened—could have happened—to him and believes if she’d gone to the police with her suspicions he might still be alive.”

“Why didn’t she?”

Dr. Carmichael slumped in his chair. Another war played through his expression, but I had no idea what it could have been about until he said, “She had absolutely no evidence. Not even his word. The school was afraid of being sued, and the police didn’t think a good upstanding family like the Duvoes was capable of such a thing.”

I went back to looking through the folder. With the initial shock worn off, bits and pieces of the report trickled in. “He looked just like me.”

In all honesty, he could have been my twin. My only comfort was knowing he’d been born years before Harrison met my mother.

“I know.”

“Do you think that’s why he hated me so much?”

“If I had to guess, I would say that’s part of it.”

There was another police report in the back. The picture of that boy was only similar in hair and eye color. “Who’s this?” If it was another sibling, I was going to be sick. But he didn’t look like Julia or Alice either.

“He lived next door to your father when he was young.”

“What happened to him?” Because something had. It seemed everything the man touched wilted.

“He was found hanged in his basement.”

I skimmed the report. There had been no evidence, but they’d questioned Harrison because he and the boy had been close. “Did he kill him too?”

“I don’t know. I think he may have had something to do with it. I’m just not sure how much. But if Harrison did, I think that’s where it all began.”

A beginning belonged to a story. And one death meant it was more than a few pages. Two deaths meant it had more than enough pages for a novel. “How many?” I was grateful Carmichael knew exactly what I meant when I asked because I wasn’t sure I had the courage to explain the question.