From Yesterday (18 page)

"Fine, use logic against me. If it were up to me, I'd keep you here all to myself and no clothing allowed the whole weekend."

I smile at the thought. "As much fun as that sounds, and it does sound wonderful, eventually we'll ahve to leave my apartment. We aren't even supposed to be in here. We were staying at your place."

Brady puts his boxer briefs on. "Well, the locks have been changed and the circumstances dictated that we stay here for now. We can go back down if you want."

"No, I'm fine here."

The food arrives then and I tip the delivery woman a ridiculous amount for arriving so quickly. She tries to hand the twenty dollar bill back to me, protesting that it's too much, but I wave it away and plead with her to keep it. Apparently, sex makes me ravenous and generous.

Brady and I spend the rest of the night eating and laughing. Once the food coma wears off, we get back in bed and burn off the calories from our dinner. I fall into a sleep so deep that I don't wake up even one time during the night. We set an alarm before going to sleep because Saturday doesn't inspire me to get up very early, but Brady does have plans for basketball in the early afternoon.

Pounding on the door wakes us both up hours before the alarm clock would have gone off. At seven in the morning on a weekend, I'm tempted to just go answer the door completely naked to teach whomever it is a lesson. Thankfully, I throw on a robe first.

Because when I fling the door open, ready to have it out with my early morning wake up call, I come face to face with someone I haven't seen in almost twp years.

My father.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I stare at my father; I cannot speak and I cannot move. I have been hiding from my parents for so long that I almost forgot what they looked like. Of course, I can still spot the signs that say he is angry, very angry, yet that does not diminish the fact that I'm his daughter and he loves me. I see that in his eyes, too.

"Papa," I whisper.

He holds his arms out and I waste no time by throwing myself into his embrace and accepting his warmth. I am not even close to forgiving my parents for what they did to me, but that doesn't mean I can't still love them and want them to be there for me.

This happy reunion can't last long, though, and it's over all too soon when my father pulls back and grips my shoulders with enough force to cause a little pain.

"Rebecca, do you have any idea the mess you've made? You check yourself out of the clinic the day you turn eighteen and take off without so much as a goodbye to me or your mother. After everything that happened; after all that we went through with losing your sister, you think that was the right thing to do?"

Stunned into silence both by his presence and the fact that even after all this time he is still blaming me and treating me like a mental patient, I squirm out of his grasp and back up until I am standing in the living room. I spin around and walk over to the sliding glass doors and look out at the incredible view of the city in the early morning light.Behind me, I hear my father shut the door and come over to where I am.

"Rebecca? Did you hear me?"

Staying with my back to him, I finally find my voice. "You threw me in an insane asylum and tossed out the key. Why would I tell you where I was going?"

"Paige? What's going on? Who is this?"

Damn. I forgot all about Brady for a moment. This is not a good situation. I can see the entire life I've built for myself; all the progress I've made in school and finally in personal relationships, it starts to unravel right in front of my eyes.

My father stares at Brady, who is clad only in his underwear. Brady stares back at my father, understanding begins to dawn in his eyes.

"Rebecca," my father's Russian accent gets thicker when he is angry. "You have boyfriend here? In your bed?"

Brady looks confused. "Who is Rebecca?"

I don't have a choice now, but to tell the truth. "I'm Rebecca. Paige was Nicole's middle name. When I moved here I used Paige and my mother's maiden name to start over. I left Rebecca Levkin back in that nut house that
you
put me in!"

My finger is pointed towards my father and I can't help but throw one last dig in. "I wasn't crazy. I shouldn't have been there. And even after my doctor told you that I was not delusional, you and Mama kept me in that hospital for over a year."

Brady takes a seat on the couch and puts his head in his hands. "Can someone please explain to me what is going on here?"

"Brady," I say, "maybe my father and I should talk alone for a while."

Of course my father has to twist the knife in a little deeper. "No, Rebecca. The young man deserves an explanation. Let's give him one. Let the boy know exactly what he's getting into." He holds his hand out to Brady. "Dmitri Levkin. Rebecca's father. And you are?"

Brady, still in a bewildered state sitting on my couch in boxer briefs, shakes his hand. "Brady Quinlan. Paige's, uh, undefined relationship friend?"

"So you want to know all about your Paige, Brady?"

Brady crosses his arms over his chest. "I believe I already know everything I need to know about her. I also know that she went to great length's to get away from you, so I can't imagine you have anything to say that I want to hear. Other than telling us when you're planning on leaving?"

My father nods at Brady; his way of showing respect. "You seem like an upstanding person, Brady. If the circumstances were different, I'm sure I'd like getting to know you. But Rebecca needs help. She needs to come home to her mother and me and see her doctor."

"No! I am not going back. I will never go back there. I'm almost twenty years old, Papa. You have no legal right to take me anywhere and you can't touch my trust fund."

"That's true, Rebecca, but I can have you declared unfit to make decision for yourself. Your mother has her doctor friends."

Brady stands up. "This is out of control. Paige is doing great here. Maybe it's best if you just leave her alone."

My father looks more agitated by the second. "Oh? She is doing great here, yes? So, you're telling me that there have been no 'stalking' incidents?"

My father makes air quotes for emphasis when he says the word stalker.

It was enough to catch Brady's attention. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you've fallen into her madness. You see, Rebecca was a sweet girl that worshiped her older sister. Nicole was her opposite; rebellious, careless, promiscuous. When Rebecca was fourteen and Nicole was seventeen, they went to see an older man that Nicole was spending time with. The man was a disturbed person and he forced the girls to the farm his family had once owned until it fell into disrepair and the bank seized it. He tied them up, but before things went any further, Rebecca was able to get free and she shot the man. He died. Nicole, unable to handle the guilt of having gotten her sister in that situation, took her own life some months later, also with a bullet. It wasn't long before 'incidents' started happening to Rebecca."

Hearing this; this sordid past of mine, come from my father's perspective is much worse than living with the memories. As humans, the only way we can live with ourselves is to justify our own actions inside our heads. If someone else tells your story, it can ruin you. I sink to the floor and brace myself for the rest.

"At first, we thought she was having nightmares, or just forgetting that she'd done something. After some time, though, the things that she claimed were happening got creepier. There was the time that she took one of my guns, a similar model to the one her sister used to end her life, and left it on Rebecca's bed next to a copy of Nicole's suicide note. Rebecca claimed that someone else did that, but she's the only one with access to all these things. She took her sister's favorite lipstick and wrote threatening words on the walls of her own bedroom. Lots of other things like this."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "After all this time, you still think that I did those things? I told you, it wasn't me! I begged you to help me."

The look on Brady's face is a cross between understanding a missing piece of the puzzle, and fury. The question is, who is he furious at? Me because he believes my father, or my father for not believing in me? I cannot tell.

"We did help you. We love you and we just want you to get better. If you had stayed with that inpatient program, you could have made such progress by now. Instead I find out from a stranger that you're living all the way in Florida and doing these terrible things to yourself again. The only mistake we made was letting that incompetent woman treat you. I should have asked for someone else; someone who would see the truth. That woman encouraged your hallucinations."

I look up sharply. "Wait, what stranger told you this? And, Papa, they were not hallucinations. Even if I had done all that stuff to myself, which I didn't, it still physically happened and you can't say I imagined anything." I look at Brady, pleading with my eyes. "You believe me, Brady. I know you do. You've seen the things that happened."

My father doesn't even give him a chance to answer. "I'm sure you've seen some suspicious looking items appear, and whatnot. Ask yourself this question: is there anything that happened that cannot possibly have been something that Rebecca did herself? At any point, was there another person that you actually saw for yourself doing these pranks?"

He's got Brady on his side now. I can see it. And my father is smart; that is a very convincing argument. It clicks for me now why my stalker never did anything more than leave me notes. This way everything could look like it was happening in my head; that I was doing it to myself. The first time this started happening, back in Ohio, there was a time where I started believing that maybe I was doing this and that I just blocked it out. Dr. Sullivan helped me get past that. She helped me see that I wasn't crazy and I can never thank her enough.

Right now, though? I cannot handle anymore of this. I needed Brady on my side and he is staying way too quiet. This is why you don't yourself care about other people. You always end up getting hurt.

"Both of you can just go to hell," I tell them.

I run out of my apartment barefoot and in my robe. Let those two stay up here and have some Rebecca is crazy bonding session.

Sheer luck is on my side for once, because when I get on the elevator, one of the building's maintenance men is riding down at the same time. They have keys to all the units.

"Oh, thank God! I'm so happy to see you." I give him a winning smile and let the very top of my robe slip open a bit so that my cleavage is on display.

The man grins. "Oh, you are, are you?"

"Absolutely. I locked myself out of my apartment and, well, as you can see, I'm not exactly dressed for the outside world. If you help me, it will save me from having to walk through the lobby like this."

He looks down my robe. "Well, you look good to me. But I'd be happy to help. What unit?"

The elevator car stops on the twenty-second floor. "Unit 2205."

We get out and I wait while he fumbles with his set of keys. I feel disgusted with myself for practically bearing the tops of my breasts to this lecherous middle-aged man, but desperate times and all that. He opens the door to Brady's apartment.

"Thank you," I say. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

His mouth turns up in a greasy smile that makes my stomach turn. "Well, what about I come in and you show me how much you appreciate this?"

"Over my cold, dead body."

I slam the door in his face and throw the deadbolt. He pounds on the door twice, then I hear him yell that I'm a bitch and he's gone.

I look around Brady's place in a panic. What do I do? I need a plan. I take a few deep breaths and I start to clear my head so that I can think.

I go into the bedroom and grab my overnight bag. I am thrilled that I left it down here last night. There are clothes in here, and my purse with my wallet and cell phone. I get dressed, grab my keys, and then duck back out into the hall. I check for the maintenance man or my father and Brady. No one is around so I'm good to go. I take the stairs down to the third floor parking garage and make a beeline for my car. I can go anywhere I want. I will come up with a new name that has nothing to do with my sister or my mother. I will
not
make any friends. I won't even go to school, which is a tough pill to swallow because when most little girls are dreaming fo their wedding, I have dreamed of walking across the stage at my college graduation. Maybe later in life.

I'm on the road for half an hour, all the way in Boca, when Elyse calls. It isn't the first phone call I've had; both Brady and my father have been trying me over and over again, but it's the only one I will answer. I'm not sure why, but maybe I just want to say goodbye to the one true friend I've made.

"Elyse?"

"I knew he was hiding something from me, but I thought he was cheating. When I went to look through his desk I found the key to his filing cabinet. Oh, God, Paige."

She crying hard and it isn't easy to understand what she's saying. I see an exit coming up and I get in that lane so I can get off of I-95. "What did you find, Elyse? What was in the cabinet."

I slow down as I make my way down the off-ramp and pull into the parking lot of an empty high school.

"There were documents about two girls; young ones. Newspaper clippings about those girls and his brother. I didn't even know he'd had a brother! The brother is dead. None of it made sense until I found the pictures."

It is a damn good thing that I pulled my car over because I begin to feel lightheaded. Puzzle pieces start to click together. The red dye on my vase and all over my floor.

'What does Garrett do?'

'He is the head of the consumer relations department for a computer supply company. They are pretty big distributors of computer and office supplies.'

"Elyse, what did you see in the pictures you found?"

"Pictures of you, Paige. From years ago and from now. Like he'd been spying on you. Pictures of a girl that looks like you. Pictures taken of you and Brady. And weird stuff, like lipstick on a mirror."