Dina’s last night in Los Angeles is almost as eventful as the Lindt chocolate caper evening. Sis retrieves a stack of letters from the bottom of her steamer trunk. They are vintage, ripped, torn, tattered letters. Some are stuffed in yellow stained envelopes. Most are barely legible. ‘Read these.’ She hands off the stack of relics to me. I follow her instructions. After all, I am the younger sister.
‘Please come to get me. I hate everything. I hate everyone. I want to go for a ride. Could we do that soon? I promise I won’t cry. Promise. I’ll be good if you take me back home with you.’ As I decipher the scribbles on each ancient page, I am reminded of a time from my past without road signage or map quest.
Dina hands me another letter. ‘Now read this.’
‘There was a little girl who had a little curl right in the middle of her forehead; When she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad she was horrid. Be a good girl now.
love me (she).’
‘She did know nursery rhymes! I am vindicated, even if I am younger.’
Dina swears on her life that my mother never read either one of us a nursery rhyme; at least not when we were of nursery rhyme age. ‘You were ten when she wrote you this ditty – a little old for an introduction to Mother Goose, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Remember, they sent you off to Camp Clydesdale: The Camp for Young Horse Lovers.’
‘Wasn’t that the summer I stopped eating solid foods?’
‘Certainly was. You tried your best to starve yourself to death – what a lovely little girl you were. We, your mother, father and I, drove up to the Catskills, yanked you out of the infirmary. The ride back home was a veritable yell fest.’
I keep reading. ‘Dr Guttman’s coming back the week after next. I’ll miss Dr Dot, even if he is a psychiatrist in training … Where did you find these?’
‘In the attic. She saved your letters, and made copies of hers. You should have her originals.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Of course not. God forbid you should have any memorabilia from your past. Do you have a photo of any one of us?’ I think about the question; hard. Shake my head in disgust with myself. ‘It’s not normal. Everyone has a scrapbook.’
‘Well, I don’t. Why remind yourself of something you love that’s … no longer there.’
‘Anyway … You came home, suddenly a soft-food eater. Next thing, right after you arrive, she’s in some hospital for some new ailment. We weren’t supposed to know.’
‘I didn’t know that she was hospitalized then?’
‘You didn’t know a lot of things. You were ten. What does a ten-year-old know about anything? Besides, you were busy having your unique food drama.’ Dina continues her story. ‘On the nights that Pop came home for dinner I cooked for him. He worked late … some merger. As soon as he walked through the door, he’d change his shoes and go out again. He took endless walks around Beechwood by himself.’ As she remembers Pop, her face softens, eyes smile. ‘That was the summer Pop started smoking Cherry Blend … I remember, when he came back after his walks, he would sit in his easy chair, pack the tobacco into his pipe, light it up, draw the smoke down into his belly, blow out the match, and blow perfect smoke rings into the air; his nightly ritual, along with watching Jack Parr or Johnny Carson. Mrs B. cooked for you; vats of oatmeal. You were such a misery. The maid quit. The house was upside down. Keep reading.’
It was clear from the letters that my mother was versed in the language of nursery rhymes. Clear I did not want to go to Camp Clydesdale. My father had made the unilateral decision. Evidently, my mother did not want me to go, and I did not want to leave her. But we had no say in the matter.
By reading these letters, I understood what drove me into Bovar’s grip in the first place. His demon lies offered me a way to bury her inside of me … forever. She and I would always be connected through a web of symbiotic symmetry.
In the entire universe, there was only one person left whom I could trust … my sister. From my auspicious beginning, Dina had been present and accountable … for all of us. She had been witness to the hospitals, the shock therapy, the numbing drugs, and the final horrendous defeat.
‘I can’t read anymore,’ I said.
Dina replied, ‘I’ll take them home.’
I’m not ready to let them go. ‘No, let me keep them here.’
‘Loli, maybe you should get involved with something a little less drastic next time? What about meditation? Yoga? While you’re working with Dr Guttman, you could do all sorts of creative things … spiritual things. When you get your life back on track, you’ll be fine. You’re so much better already. Aren’t you?’
‘I still hear her. I don’t know if I want that to stop. I like hearing her voice.
‘Hush little baby.’ I shiver.
Dina sighs. ‘You’re so talented. You know so much about music and writing … You would make a great teacher! You’re great with people.’
‘I’m not bad with demons either,’ I laugh.
‘I’m serious. You have great people skills. You should use them.’
‘I’m gonna miss you.’
‘You can always come back east.’
‘I’m not ready … not now anyway.’
‘We’re ready for you. Ralph adores you. The kids would love it!’
‘Pop and I aren’t ready.’
‘Give it time.’
‘We’re talking an eternity.’
‘It’s been hard on him too, Loli. He loved her. He did what he could.’
I try to explain myself. ‘When I hear her voice, I miss being young … very young. Back … maybe before I was born. I have always been hungry for the past … afraid of the future.’
‘It’ll get better,’ my sister replies.
I want to believe her.