Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel (22 page)

Read Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel Online

Authors: Maria Semple

Tags: #Fiction / Humorous, #Contemporary Women, #Humorous, #Family Life, #Fiction, #Fiction / Family Life, #Fiction / Contemporary Women

BOOK: Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel
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BRANCH:
How about you
don’t
blame this on Microsoft?

FOX:
I’m just saying the three of us, our family, without any distractions.

BRANCH:
I’m not going to Antarctica with you. I’d throw you overboard the first chance I got.

FOX:
Is the trip canceled?

BRANCH:
I’d never do that to Bee. She’s been reading books and doing reports on Antarctica for the last year.

FOX:
I’m confused, then…

DR. KURTZ:
Bernadette, I’d like to suggest that we work together over the next several weeks.

FOX:
You’re going on the trip with us? That’s so exotic.

DR. KURTZ:
No, I’m not. You need to concentrate on getting yourself better, Bernadette.

FOX:
I still don’t quite know how you fit in.

DR. KURTZ:
I’m a psychiatrist at Madrona Hill.

FOX:
Madrona Hill? The loony bin? Jesus Christ! You’re shipping me off to a loony bin? Elgie! You’re not!

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
Shit, are you?

BRANCH:
Bernadette, you need help.

FOX:
So you’re going to take Bee to Antarctica and lock me up at Madrona Hill? You can’t do that!

DR. KURTZ:
We’d like you to come voluntarily.

FOX:
Oh Jesus. Is that why Van is here? To keep Bee distracted with snow leopards and carousel rides while you’re locking me up?

BRANCH:
You still have no concept of how ill you are, do you?

FOX:
Elgie, look at me. I’m in the weeds. I can get myself out. We can get out of this together. For us. For Bee. But I won’t work with these invaders. I’m sorry, but I’ve had to pee since I got here. Or do I need doctor’s approval?

DR. KURTZ:
Go right ahead—

FOX:
God, it’s
you!
It’s him! Elgie!

BRANCH:
What?

FOX:
The guy I said was following me at the restaurant that night? This is him! You’ve been following me, right?

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
You weren’t supposed to know. But yes.

FOX:
The point of all this is I’m supposed to be crazy. But I’m just so relieved that he
has
been following me, because now at least I know I’m not insane.

(BATHROOM DOOR CLOSING). (LONG SILENCE)

DR. KURTZ:
I did tell you interventions aren’t my forte.

BRANCH:
Bernadette
was
being followed. What if she did call Dr. Neergaard to cancel? Shouldn’t we at least check?

DR. KURTZ:
As we discussed, doubt is a natural, even
necessary
component of interventions. Remember, your wife will not get help of her own volition. We want to prevent her from hitting rock bottom.

BRANCH:
Isn’t that what this is now? Rock bottom?

DR. KURTZ:
Rock bottom is death. This is to raise the bottom for Bernadette.

BRANCH:
How is this good for Bee?

DR. KURTZ:
Her mother is getting help.

BRANCH:
Jesus.

DR. KURTZ:
What is it?

BRANCH:
Her bag. A couple of nights ago, only my bag and Bee’s were packed. This is Bernadette’s bag. Now it’s packed.

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
What are you saying?

BRANCH:
Dr. Kurtz, this proves she
was
planning to go! Maybe she did become overreliant on the Internet and got caught up in a scam. People get their identities stolen all the time. They don’t get sent to the crazy house—

DR. KURTZ:
Mr. Branch—

(KNOCKING ON BATHROOM DOOR)

BRANCH:
Bernadette. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this.

(KICKING AT DOOR)

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
We need some backup.

DR. KURTZ:
Mr. Branch—

BRANCH:
Let go of me. Bernadette! Why isn’t she answering? Sir—

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
Yeah, here.

BRANCH:
What if she had pills, or broke a window and slit her wrists…. Bernadette!

(FRONT DOOR OPENING)

AGENT STRANG:
Is there a problem?

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
She’s been in the bathroom for several minutes, and she’s not responding.

AGENT STRANG:
Step back. Miss Fox!

(EXTENDED DOOR KICKING)

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
She’s not here. The water is running in the sink.

BRANCH:
She’s gone?

DR. KURTZ:
Is there a window—

AGENT STRANG:
It’s closed. (WINDOW OPENING) The yard slopes way down. It’s too far up for her to have jumped without injury. There’s no ledge. I was at the front door. (RADIO STATIC) Kevin, you see anything?

VOICE FROM RADIO:
Nobody in or out.

BRANCH:
She didn’t vanish. You were standing at the bathroom door, weren’t you?

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
I stepped away for a second to look at the suitcase.

AGENT STRANG:
Jesus Christ.

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
He made it sound really exciting.

DR. KURTZ:
This is the only door she could have… where does it lead?

BRANCH:
The basement. We never open it. It’s overgrown with blackberries. Detective, could you help?

(DOOR SCRAPING AGAINST THE FLOOR)

DR. KURTZ:
Oh, God, the smell.

DETECTIVE DRISCOLL:
Ghhaw.

AGENT STRANG:
She obviously didn’t go down there—

(SOUND OF MOTOR STARTING)

DR. KURTZ:
What is that?

BRANCH:
A weed whacker. If she did go into the basement—

DR. KURTZ:
There’s no way—

(LOUD MOTOR)

DR. KURTZ:
Mr. Branch!

Mr. Branch did not make it far into the basement before he fell into the blackberry brambles. He emerged, bloody, his clothes frayed. His left eyelid was torn, and his eye was severely scratched. An ambulance rushed Mr. Branch to the eye clinic at Virginia Mason.

A K9 team searched the premises. There was no sign of Bernadette Fox.

PART FIVE
Dangers Passed
F
RIDAY
, J
ANUARY
14
From Dad

Bee,

Mrs. Webb called to say your giraffe mug is glazed and ready to pick up. I went by Galer Street, and the first-grade teacher gave me this good-bye poster her class made for you. It’s so colorful I thought you’d like to put it up on your dorm room wall. (I’m keeping the mug for myself, though, on the pretense that it might break in the mail!) Everyone at Galer Street sends their love, darling, from the kindergarteners on up to Gwen Goodyear.

Seattle is just how you left it. We had three days of sun, but it’s raining again now. Still no word from Mom. I remain in close contact with the cell phone and credit card companies. As soon as there’s any activity, they’ll let me know.

Remember, Bee, this whole situation has nothing to do with you. It’s a grown-up problem between your mom and me. It’s complicated, and I’m not sure I understand everything that happened. What matters most is that you know how much we both cherish you.

I’m going to D.C. next week for a meeting. I thought I could drive up to Choate, pick you up, and we can make a long weekend out of it in New York. We can stay at the Plaza, just like Eloise.

I miss you terribly. I’m always around for a phone call, or I’d love to Skype, if you ever change your mind about that.

Love,

Dad

*

Fax from Soo-Lin

Dear Audrey,

I hope this finds you well in Arizona. (Utah? New Mexico? All Warren said is you’re in the desert at a motel without cell reception or email, darn you!)

I’m not sure how much news of the past month has reached you, so I’ll start from the beginning.

As you suspected, long before even I did, Elgie and I were developing a strong bond on Samantha 2. It started, for my part, as an admiration for his genius, then blossomed into much more as he confided in me about his abusive marriage.

The eighth graders are reading Shakespeare, and one of Lincoln’s assignments is to memorize a soliloquy. (Tell that to Kyle. He’ll be thrilled he’s no longer at Galer Street!) Lincoln was given a speech from
Othello
, where the Moor defends the improbable love he and Desdemona share. It’s me and Elgie in a nutshell.

She loved me for the dangers I had passed

And I loved her that she did pity them.

Shakespeare always puts it best, doesn’t he?

You know that Bernadette disappeared from a drug intervention at her house. Everyone’s first concern was that the Russian Mafia had got
ten in and kidnapped her. However, we soon learned the Russians had been apprehended switching planes in Dubrovnik. That made the FBI and the police vanish almost as quickly as Bernadette!

Elgie and Bee did not go to Antarctica after all. Elgie had to be treated for a corneal abrasion, and he received stitches on his eyelid. After seventy-two hours, he filed a missing-persons report. To this day, there’s still no news of Bernadette.

If you ask me, she was swallowed up by the ghosts of the Straight Gate girls. Did you know Straight Gate wasn’t just a “school for wayward girls”? It was a place to lock up
pregnant
girls, and illegal abortions were performed in the basement. And this was where Bernadette chose to raise a baby daughter?

I digress.

Elgie had made contingency plans to send Bee to boarding school in January. Once Bernadette disappeared, he assumed she wouldn’t want to go. But Bee insisted.

I asked Elgie to move in, but he still prefers a hotel, which I respect. Lucky me, I have that big dopey dog of theirs, who runs around day and night whimpering for Bernadette, dripping water on everything.

Elgie suggested I look for a bigger house on Queen Anne, which he would pay for. Then Lincoln got accepted to Lakeside. (Oh, did I tell you? We got accepted to Lakeside!) Since Lakeside was going to be the center of our lives for the next four years, I thought, What’s keeping us on Queen Anne anyway? Why not Madison Park? It’s closer to Lakeside. It’s closer to Microsoft. Elgie said fine, as long as the house requires no construction.

I found the most beautiful home, right across from Lake Washington, a charming Craftsman, the one that used to belong to Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love. Lincoln’s stock has zoomed up at school, that’s for sure!

I quit Microsoft, and thank God. There’s about to be another huge reorg. Yes, so soon! Of course, Samantha 2 is protected, but still, Microsoft is not a fun place to be right now. Productivity grinds to a halt with all the rumors.

Upon rereading this letter, I fear it’s in terribly bad taste, considering where you are. Where
is
that, anyway?! How is Kyle? I hope you can be happy for me.

Love,

Soo-Lin

S
ATURDAY
, J
ANUARY
15
Fax from Audrey Griffin

Dear Soo-Lin,

Congratulations on your newfound happiness. You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve all the joy your new life has brought to you. May it continue.

I have found serenity myself, in Utah, where Kyle is in wilderness rehab. He’s a drug addict and has been diagnosed with ADHD and borderline personality disorder.

We found a wonderful, if arduous, immersion program. The reason we chose Utah is because it’s the only state that by law essentially allows you to kidnap your child, so they specialize in these wilderness programs. On the first day, they drove Kyle and a group of kids, blindfolded, twenty miles out into the middle of the desert and dumped them without sleeping bags, food, toothbrushes, or tents, and told them they’d be back for them in a week.

It’s not like a reality television show where there are cameras and everyone is being watched. No. These kids are forced to cooperate in
order to survive. Many of them, like Kyle, were coming off drugs cold turkey.

Of course, I was terrified. Kyle is incapable of doing anything for himself. You remember those calls when we were having girls’ night out. “Mom, the remote is out of batteries.” And I’d leave early to go to the store to get him more? How would he survive seven days in the desert? Or worse, I looked around at the other mothers, and I thought, My son is going to kill one of your children.

After a week, the kids were rounded up and brought back to the rehab center. Kyle came back alive, ten pounds lighter, smelling to high heaven, and a tiny bit
meek
.

Warren returned to Seattle, but I couldn’t. I checked into a motel that makes the Westin look like the Taj Mahal. The soda machines are covered with metal grating. The sheets were so scratchy, I drove a hundred miles to the nearest Walmart and bought cotton ones.

I started going to Al-Anon meetings, ones that specialize in parents whose kids have substance-abuse problems. I have come to accept that my life has become unmanageable. I always went to church, but this program is deeply spiritual in a way I’ve never before experienced. I’ll leave it at that.

Truthfully, I’m afraid of going back to Seattle. Gwen Goodyear has generously offered to take Kyle back at Galer Street after spring break and let him make up his credits over the summer so he can graduate with his class. But I’m not sure I want to go back just yet. I’m not the same woman who wrote that foolish Christmas poem. At the same time, I’m not sure who I am. I trust God to guide me.

That is very upsetting news about Bernadette. I know she’ll turn up. She always has a trick up her sleeve, doesn’t she?

Love,

Audrey

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