‘Maybe.’ I shelved that for the moment, my mind too caught up with getting used to being home again to think about moving.
Karla and Saul Benedict came to cal on Saturday morning. I’d never felt at ease with Zed’s mother since our first meeting, but she was on her best behaviour today, giving no sign that she was reading me. Ironical y, I wouldn’t have minded someone tel ing me what was going on in my head as I hadn’t a clue. I remembered the conversation I’d had with Saul about my relationship with their son; would they stil be so keen on having me in their family now they knew I’d cracked up in Vegas?
Sal y and Simon sat with me as we entertained the Benedicts in the kitchen. There was none of the zany fun I’d had in the Benedict home when I’d gone there.
They exchanged a few stilted pleasantries, talking about the concerts planned for Christmas and the busy season on the slopes. I felt sad that I wasn’t taking part in the music as I had planned to do.
Rehearsals would be going on at school without me.
Final y, Saul turned to me, coming to the point of the visit.
‘Sky, it’s good to see you back in Wrickenridge.’
‘Thanks, Mr Benedict.’
‘Zed’s told us what you said to him about having false memories.’
I looked down at my hands.
‘We think we can help you.’
Simon cleared his throat. ‘Now, Mr Benedict, I appreciate you coming here, but we’ve got Sky an excel ent doctor. She’s seeing to her treatment. I don’t think we should mess around with it.’
‘That would be al very wel in the normal course of things,’ said Karla, her tone betraying an edge of impatience, ‘but we believe Sky’s problem might lie out of the realms of normal medicine.’
The look Sal y and Simon exchanged was clear.
They were hostile to any suggestions out of their control; the Benedicts were not the only family who knew how to circle the wagons.
‘That may be so, but she’s our daughter and we wil decide with her what’s best.’ Simon stood, signal ing that as far as he was concerned this friendly visit was at an end.
Saul kept his eyes on me. ‘We would like you to spend some time with our family, Sky. When we get together, there are things we can do to help someone in your situation.’
The prospect terrified me—but I also knew I wasn’t getting anywhere under the doctor’s methods for al Sal y’s and Simon’s optimism.
‘It is time spent with your family that got Sky into the fix she’s in now!’ Simon no longer bothered to hide his anger. ‘Look, Mr Benedict—’
‘Please, cal me Saul. We’ve been through too much together to stil be so formal.’
Simon sighed, wind taken out of his sails. ‘Saul, we like Zed—he’s a fine boy—but Sky’s not likely to be around much longer to spend this time you’re talking about. Please, just leave us alone now. Sky’s had enough to put up with in her short life; don’t add to the stress she’s already under by making claims on her.’
Sal y knitted her fingers together, clenching them tightly. ‘We’ve always known, since she was a little girl, that Sky’s mental condition is delicate. It’s not your fault, but it’s turned out that the association with your family with its exceptional problems has upset that balance. Please, leave her alone now.’
The argument was carrying on over my head. It was almost as if I wasn’t there.
‘Sal y, please.’
‘It’s al right, Sky. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Your daughter needs us,’ said Mrs Benedict.
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t agree.’ Sal y joined Simon by the door, body language crystal clear. ‘We know what’s best for Sky. She’s been ours six years now and I think we know her rather better than you do.’
‘Stop it, al of you, please.’ I felt like a bone being quarrel ed over by a pack of dogs. Everyone was so busy tel ing me they knew best, I couldn’t decide what that might be for myself.
Saul rose from the table. ‘Karla, we’re distressing Sky. We’d better go.’ He darted a glance at me. ‘The offer stands, Sky. Just think about it. For Zed’s sake, as wel as yours.’
The Benedicts left with a slamming of car doors and strained goodbyes at the front gate. I remained behind in the living room, running my fingers over the piano keyboard. Was it my imagination, or did it sound out of tune too?
‘Wel , real y,’ said Sal y, coming back into the house in a huff. ‘Is there nobody in Wrickenridge who doesn’t think they know better than us?’
‘Sorry you had to sit through that, love.’ Simon ruffled my hair. ‘I think they mean wel .’
‘Right now Las Vegas is looking very tempting,’
added Sal y.
Simon’s eyes glinted, like a driver seeing a gap in the rush hour traffic, knowing he could make a break for it. ‘Then I’l give Mrs Toscana a ring, see what we can fix up.’
I didn’t want this attitude of ful steam ahead to a new life; I wanted time to adjust to the one I’d been making for myself here. I wanted time to find out what there was between Zed and me. And for al this I needed my head back in the right place.
I closed the piano lid. ‘Can we not just think for a minute about what Mr and Mrs Benedict said?
Maybe they can help.’
‘Sorry, Sky, but once bitten, twice shy.’ Simon flipped through the business cards until he found the one for the hotel in Vegas. ‘Getting tangled up in that family’s business has been a disaster. We don’t mind you seeing Zed here, but you’re not to go over to his house. You’re making progress, we don’t want any setbacks. I’l just make this cal .’
I had little energy for a fight at the moment so I made no promises, just got up, saying I was off to bed. I could hear Simon talking animatedly to his new contact, mentioning what weekends we had free and how much we were looking forward to visiting. I had no desire to go back to Vegas; why would I?
Everything I wanted was here.
I sat at the end of my bed looking out of the window long after my parents had retired for the night. The sky was clear, moon shadows turning the snow a bruised blue. Winter had set in, the snow packed down, prepared to stay til spring. The thermometer was wel below freezing, the icicles dripping from the eaves, lengthening daily. I scratched at my arms. I couldn’t bear this. I wanted to scream, pummel my head until it was back in shape.
I was trying hard to pretend I was getting better but in fact I felt I was getting worse. I clung on to sanity, stepping lightly on the thin ice protecting my mind, but I feared that this was an il usion: I had already plunged through the cracks.
I stood up abruptly and walked to the window, fists clenched. I had to do something. There was only one place I could think of to go to prevent the damage spreading. Grabbing my dressing gown, I shoved open the casement. I knew what I was contemplating was mad, but then again I thought I was crazy, so what the hel . Regretting that my snow boots were downstairs—I didn’t want to risk alerting my parents to my plan—I climbed on to the porch roof, slid down to the edge and dropped to the ground. My soft shoes were immediately soaked but I now felt too driven by the belief that this was my one last hope to care.
I started to run down the road, feet crunching in the powder snow. I travel ed from shivering cold to not feeling. Passing our car parked in the garage, I spared a wish that I had taken the opportunity of Coloradan laws letting sixteen year olds behind the wheel—Zed had once said he’d give me lessons but we’d never got to it. Never mind, it was only a couple of miles across town. I could make it.
I was walking by the time I turned into the steep road behind the ski lodges that led up to the cable car. The snow here was stamped down, freezing in icy ridges. When I looked at my toes, I realized the soles of my shoes were in shreds and my feet bleeding. Oddly, I couldn’t bring myself to care too much. I approached the Benedict house cautiously, wondering what security they had instal ed. They’d been expecting an attack and wouldn’t have let down their guard yet. A hundred yards out, I did feel a barrier—not a physical one but a sensation of unwil ingness and fear compel ing me to turn back.