Organized to Death Page 13

  Tina was trying to remember Sally’s grandmother, but only recalled meeting her one time at a Fourth of July picnic. She’d seemed nice, if a bit vague.

  “But Sally didn’t live long enough to become either a drunk or crazy, did she?” Mitzi said. Then she began to cry.

  “It’s okay,” Tina said. “You miss her, but think about her—she’s not in any pain. She’s in a better place.”

  Mitzi looked at Tina. “You think so?” She wiped her face with her forearm, making the sleeve of her robe damp.

  “I’m positive,” Tina said. “And you still have Hank. He loves you. You should think about Hank. When you hurt like this, he hurts, too.”

  Tina felt Hank shift behind her.

  “What do you do all day?” Tina remembered wondering what Rachel did all day. She was positive both women were deeply depressed.

  “Watch television. Go shopping if I feel like it. What is there to do?”

  In Newport, Rhode Island? Dozens of things.

  “You don’t play golf? Bridge?”

  “No. Never liked either very much.”

  “You like to sail? Does Hank take you sailing?”

  “Boring.”

  “Volunteer work. At the hospital, the library, the schools.”

  “Bunch of snooty women.”

  Tina doubted that, but she wasn’t going to argue.

  “Collect something—stamps, coins, books, art.”

  “Never had any interest in any of those things.”

  “What interested you in school?”

  “Boys.” Mitzi giggled. “Young girls should be happy, shouldn’t they? Shouldn’t they?”

  “Yes,” Tina said. “And if they’re not, they should try to make themselves happy. The same when they become adults. What makes you happy, Mitzi?”

  “Hank. Hank is the only thing that makes me happy.”

  “You don’t like to cook?”

  “For Hank, sometimes.”

  Tina looked around. The kitchen was neat and clean. “You liked being a housewife?”

  “When I was a wife. After Jasper died … “

  “I bet you were good at it,” Tina said.

  Mitzi sat up a bit straighter. “I was. I vowed not to be like my mother. She was a slob, you know, as well as a drunk.”

  “Really? What was your father like?”

  Mitzi sniffed. “He was a loser. My mother kept telling him that, and she was right. Couldn’t keep a job. Then he up and died young—only forty-five, leaving my mother and me in dire straits. That’s what Mother used to call it—dire straits. She had to go to work. Then she could only drink on the weekends, and she got mean. When I met Jasper, I thought all my problems were over. He had a great job, and soon after we were married, he bought this house.”

  “You like the house. You keep it nice.” Tina thought Mitzi had more regard for the house, which she kept clean, than she did for herself, which she didn’t keep so clean.

  “Yes, that’s so,” Mitzi said, looking around in wonder. “This is a good house. It deserves to be kept clean and neat.”

  “And you’re a good person, Mitzi. You should take better care of yourself.”

  Mitzi shook her head. “I’m not so good. Lost a daughter, lost a husband. He killed himself, did you know that?”

  Hank made a sound behind Tina, and Mitzi looked up with stricken eyes.

  “Oh, God, oh, God, I never told you. I never wanted you to know. I forgot you were here. Oh, I’m so stupid, so worthless, so utterly, utterly worthless.” Mitzi flung herself out of the chair and dashed out of the room. Tina and Hank were too stunned to stop her, but in a moment Hank rushed after her, Tina following.

  Mitzi ran up the stairs faster than Tina would have believed possible, dashed down a long hall, into a bedroom, and slammed the door. They heard the key turn in the lock, and Mitzi, sobbing.

  “Let us in, Mitzi, please,” Hank said. “It’s all right. I’m okay. You’re not worthless.”

  Tina had never seen Hank like this before, and she almost fell to her knees in shock. His face was white, even his lips, which he pinched together with his teeth. His eyes stared at the door, his fist raised to slam against it, but he didn’t move. She put her arms around him, holding him tight, as if afraid he’d fly apart if she didn’t.

  “Mitzi,” Tina said, “please let us in. We want to talk to you. We need to talk to you. Hank needs you now. Please?”

  They heard the key turn but the door didn’t open. Slowly, Tina let go of Hank and he opened the door. Mitzi sat on a high Victorian bed, legs dangling like a child, eyes wide and her fists at her mouth. “I can’t do anything right,” she moaned. “Hank, can you ever forgive me?”

  CHAPTER 22

  Mitzi looked like a frightened bird, perched on the edge of the bed. Hank slowly approached her, with Tina following. When Tina noticed how fearful Mitzi was, she stopped halfway there.

  Hank sat down next to his mother and took her hand. “I don’t understand what you mean. You didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who… committed suicide. Why? Why did he do it?”

  Mitzi bent her head, not looking at Hank. “You remember how he doted on Sally.”

  “Yes.”

  “After she died, he just couldn’t stand living anymore. I knew exactly how he felt, but I don’t have the courage—”

  “That’s not courage!” Hank said fiercely. “That’s an escape. And selfish.”

  Mitzi looked at him. “No, no, he was a brave man, Hank.”

  Hank glanced at Tina who tried to control her expression, but it was hard since she’d known these two for so long. Her professionalism seemed to have left her.

  “You’re the brave one,” Hank said. “You stuck around when things got rough. You must still have some hope of better days to come.”

  Mitzi looked at him, wide-eyed. “I guess I do, after all.”

  Mother and son sat silently for a while. Hank must be dying, Tina thought, to ask more about his father but she supposed he was afraid of upsetting Mitzi.

  Finally, Mitzi spoke, her voice flat. “He hanged himself in the garage. I found him the next morning when I went looking for him since he wasn’t in bed, and he wasn’t in the kitchen having breakfast. You were away, and I called Dr. Stevenson first. We managed to keep it quiet.”

  “How considerate of him not to mess up the house,” Hank said, the sarcasm deep in his throat making his voice ugly.

  “No, no, you mustn’t think badly of him, Hank. He was in so much pain.”

  “Life is full of pain. It’s how we handle it that shows how good we are.”

  Mitzi stiffened. “Then you must not think I’m very good.”

  “It’s different for you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You had a difficult childhood.” Savagely, he combed his hair with his fingers.

  Mitzi snorted. “Many people have difficult childhoods.” She pulled her hand away from his and stood up. “I’ve tried. Oh, I’ve tried, but there’s something wrong with me, something deep inside.”

  Tina’s heart ached for her, for both of them. She knew Hank felt anger at his father, which helped block the pain. For now. Eventually it would hit him. And who would he have to help the pain go away? Who did Mitzi have after her husband hanged himself?

  “I know what’s wrong with both of you,” Tina said.

  They looked at her, eyes wide.

  “You both love each other. Very much. But you don’t share your feelings, or even the whole truth about things. So you can’t support each other. You think you’re supportive, but if you don’t talk about the important things, you can’t really know what the other person is thinking and feeling.”

  Mitzi stood, staring at her, and Hank watched Mitzi.

  “You didn’t tell Hank the truth about his father, and he didn’t know how much more that kind of death hurt you than any other. And I bet he doesn’t tell you much about how he feels about things. I wonder if you even know wh
at he does for a living. I sure don’t.” Tina slapped her hand over her mouth. Where did that come from?

  Hank laughed. “Tina, you’re preposterous sometimes.”

  “No, Hank, what she says makes a lot of sense. How’d you learn to be so smart, Tina?”

  Tina shrugged. “Seven years in college and just watching people. Doing that hasn’t helped me figure out your son, though.”

  Hank laughed again, quietly this time.

  Mitzi looked at him, then at Tina. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Thank you for your visit. I hope you’ll come by another time, but right now, I’m exhausted. So, I’ll thank both of you for leaving.”

  Hank obviously didn’t want to go. But he kissed his mother on the cheek, told her to rest, and followed Tina downstairs and out the front door, making sure it locked behind them.

  They didn’t talk on the way back to Hank’s house. Tina was uncertain if Hank would still want her to stay for dinner, so when she climbed out of his car, she stood in the garage, waiting for him to say something.

  “Come on,” he growled. “I bought steaks and some of that pre-made salad in a bag.”

  Tina nodded, not trusting her voice. They walked down the short hall to the kitchen where Hank stopped, draped his coat over a chair, and held out his hand for Tina’s. She gave it to him.

  He faced her and grasped her upper arms. “You’re incredible, you know that? In one hour, you got Mitzi talking, thinking, maybe even hopeful.” He bent his head down and kissed her. It was a sweet kiss, a loving kiss, and Tina felt herself melting, her knees weakening, glad he held her arms with his strong hands. Then those hands moved as his arms encircled her and he pressed her closer. She put her arms around his neck. A tiny moan escaped her lips.

  At the sound, Hank abruptly let her go and stepped back. Tina staggered a bit, then looked into his eyes. She couldn’t read his expression. Confused? Confounded? Maybe a bit of both. And something more. Hunger. He wanted her, but he wasn’t going to try for it.

  Tina sat down at the table because she was afraid her legs would give out. The thought crossed her mind to push it, to go to him, kiss him. But what if he pushed her away again? They held each other’s gaze for a long time, and it was Hank who finally broke it.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll go light the fire.” He went out the back door, and Tina sat there thinking You already lit mine.

  He seemed to be gone a long time. Tina wanted to think, but her mind couldn’t hold onto anything long enough to dissect it. What was he doing out there? Maybe he was as rattled as she was. She couldn’t help smiling a little at the idea.

  Finally he came back and said gruffly, “Let’s just forget that happened, shall we?” He tried to meet her eyes but couldn’t quite manage.

  “Why?” Tina asked.

  “Because you belong to Brandon, doll.”

  “Is that what you think? That I belong to him? If you and I were dating, would I belong to you?”

  “You’re angry.”

  Tina ran her hand through her hair. “No, I’m confused. Yes, I’m a little angry. I’m not a piece of furniture—I can’t belong to anyone.”

  “Bad choice of words.” Hank took a plastic bag out of the refrigerator, and Tina saw he wasn’t kidding about having bought the salad. Her impulse was to stand up and offer to help. She squashed it. She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up yet.

  “So what would happen if I stopped seeing Brandon?”

  Hank’s hands stilled over the salad bowl. “Do you want to do that?”

  “I don’t know.” She hated the sound of her voice. It was almost a wail.

  “Well, if you don’t know,” Hank said, pouring the greens into the bowl, “then we should forget what happened.” His tone was flat, his hands steady.

  “All right.” Tina made her voice firm and looked defiantly at Hank.

  He seemed a bit surprised, but then he shrugged. “What kind of dressing do you like?”

  “Italian,” she said, without thinking.

  “Got that. You like corn? Or would you rather have green beans?”

  “Corn is fine.”

  Hank turned on the heat under a covered pot already on the stove. “Potatoes,” he said. “Would you like a cocktail? Strawberry daiquiri?”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Tina watched him mix her drink, bemused. Then he made himself a Scotch and soda and sat down across the table from her.

  “I really do think you helped Mitzi,” he said.

  “I’m glad, then. And who’s going to help Hank?”

  “What? I don’t need any help.”

  “Come on, Hank. That was a big blow about your father. Who do you have to talk to?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And I’m Mary Poppins. Excuse me while I go get my umbrella.”

  He laughed. “I feel like Alice through the Looking Glass, myself. Everything’s the opposite of how I thought it was.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I thought my father was the strong one and Mitzi the weak one. I thought Mary Poppins here needed someone strong and steady to hold on to. Someone like Brandon. It seems the Hank who thought he knew it all didn’t know much.” He grinned wryly at her.

  “Oh, Hank.” She took his hand. “Life is just full of surprises, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And you must be the most surprising of all.” He stood up. “Gotta put those steaks on the grill.”

  He turned down the stove, then went outside carrying a plate with two thick steaks on it and some tongs.

  Tina ran her hand through her hair again and sighed. What a day it’d been.

  She was tired of secrets. She thought of Brandon again. There was a man who was as open as a barn door. She didn’t have to puzzle over him, what he was thinking, or even feeling. She wanted his strong arms around her, soothing her. And that was her problem. She didn’t know what the hell she wanted in a man. Never had.

  Hank came back in and took a bag of corn out of the freezer, dumped it into a bowl, added some water, covered it, and put it in the microwave. He turned to Tina.

  Damn, he was a hunk, just like all the girls said. His jeans showed every muscle, his crewneck gray sweater every line in his chest. Tina felt her eyelids going to half-mast and her mouth parting. Get a grip, she told herself.

  And suddenly she couldn’t stay. She’d never been one for big dramatic scenes, and her feelings for Hank felt so dramatic she needed to move. Her heart told her to go to him, love him, but her head objected, telling her it wasn’t safe. He made her so mad. And frustrated. Until she sorted out her feelings, she needed to get away from him. With him around, she only felt confused. And that could lead to disaster.

  She stood up, grabbed her coat, and put it on.

  “What are you doing?” Hank asked.

  She couldn’t look at him. “I need to leave. I can’t have a normal conversation with you about food and other stuff while I feel, I feel … “

  “How do you feel, Tina?” He took a couple of steps toward her.

  “Don’t.” She held up her hands. “I need time to think.”

  He stopped and looked at her, searching her face. “Okay. Call me when you figure it all out.”

  She nodded and turned to leave. She thought maybe he’d try to stop her. But he didn’t, so she worried all the way to the hospital that he was angry with her. So what if he was, she thought defiantly as she pulled into the lot. He’d been the one to tell her to forget about the kiss. He’d been the one who said she belonged to Brandon instead of going for it.

  Damn him.

  CHAPTER 23

  As Tina walked down the hall at the hospital, she saw a familiar face in the nearest bed a few rooms down from Uncle Bob. Ted’s nurse and a Lunch Bunch daughter.

  Tina stepped inside the room to be sure. “Brenda?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

  Brenda, pale, frail-looking, stared at Tin
a. “What are you doing here?”

  “Uncle Bob collapsed this afternoon, and they admitted him. Bleeding ulcers. I’m here to spend the night. It’s particularly hard on him in this type of situation. Being deaf and all.”

  “Of course,” Brenda said, moving restlessly in the bed.

  When she didn’t say any more, Tina prodded. “So, why are you here?”

  “Just having some tests done. Nothing major.”

  They don’t slap someone in the hospital for tests if it isn’t major, Tina thought, but she didn’t want to press Brenda. They weren’t that close. As far as she could remember, Brenda had looked and acted fine at lunch the day before.

  “Well, I hope everything turns out okay,” Tina said awkwardly.

  “I’m sure it will,” Brenda said, but she didn’t sound sure.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’d better see what’s going on with Uncle Bob now.”

  “Yes. Hope he’s doing all right.” Brenda turned her head away, and after saying a soft goodbye, Tina left.

  Her mother dozed in a chair and Uncle Bob was sound asleep, but when she came farther into the room, Laura woke with a start.

  “How was Mitzi?” she whispered, then gave a short laugh. “Why am I whispering? Uncle Bob can’t hear me.”

  Tina shook her head. “Don’t know—just natural when someone’s sleeping.” She sat on the other bed and found it so high that her feet dangled. She remembered how Mitzi had looked on the high Victorian bed and hoped she herself didn’t look that forlorn. “Mitzi is all wrapped up in how life has treated her and doesn’t know how to get to someplace else.”

  Laura stared at Tina. “You nailed her. True of most of us, though, isn’t it?”

  “Probably. Some people are better at putting bad things behind them and going forward, usually, I think, because they reach out to others and try to help them. By doing that, they see that everyone has troubles, some a lot worse than their own. Feeling down? Think of the people worse off than you are, people in constant pain, for example. That should turn you around.”

  Laura smiled. “I guess your learned something from all those psychology courses. And maybe I did something right along the way.”