Chapter 8 - SOMEBODY ELSE HAD WRITTEN THE NOTE.
Alan wanted the handwriting to be Jessica’s.
That would have been easier.
He knew her handwriting better than his own.
The note on the back of the Thanksgiving photograph was not hers.
SHE NEEDS TO LEARN WHERE SHE FITS.
Joey sat on the storage unit floor.
“Who wrote it?”
“I don’t know.”
Alan looked through the other photographs.
Most had nothing written on them.
Family gatherings.
Christmas.
A birthday lunch.
A charity dinner.
Then another photograph showed Joey near the kitchen.
This one had a date printed on the corner.
Two weeks before Thanksgiving.
No note.
Another photograph.
Joey was not in it.
Alan remembered that evening.
He had video-called the family from overseas.
Jessica had turned the camera around so he could say hello to everyone.
“Were you there?”
Joey looked at the picture.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
Alan closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“Your mom had people over.”
“You were living there.”
“I know.”
He put the photograph down.
“Who takes these pictures?”
“Sometimes your mom.”
“She’s in them.”
“Then maybe Denise.”
“Would Denise write this?”
Joey shook her head immediately.
“No.”
“Who else?”
“Your aunt maybe.”
“Which one?”
“Karen takes pictures.”
Alan knew Aunt Karen.
Jessica’s younger sister.
She was not cruel.
At least he had never seen her be.
But she had spent decades avoiding conflict with Jessica.
“Did Karen ever see how Mom treated you?”
Joey hesitated.
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“It wasn’t a big thing.”
Alan gave her a look.
She sighed.
“Sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Dinner.”
“What dinner?”
“The one in the picture.”
“Thanksgiving?”
“No. The earlier one.”
Alan sat beside her.
Joey held the photograph.
“Your mom had everybody at the dining table.”
“Where were you?”
“At first, upstairs.”
“At first?”
“I came down because I was hungry.”
Alan waited.
“She told me there wasn’t room.”
He looked at the photograph.
The table seated fourteen.
Only eleven people were visible.
“There was room.”
“I know.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“What did she do?”
“She gave me food.”
“On what?”
Joey looked embarrassed.
Alan already knew.
“Plastic?”
She nodded.
“Where did you eat?”
“The kitchen.”
He closed his eyes.
“Did Karen see?”
“Yes.”
“What did she do?”
“She looked at me.”
“And?”
“Then at your mom.”
“And?”
“Nothing.”
Alan felt anger rising.
Joey noticed.
“She looked uncomfortable.”
“That isn’t help.”
“I know.”
“Did anybody say anything?”
“Your cousin asked why I wasn’t eating with everyone.”
“What did Mom say?”
“That I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Were you?”
Joey laughed quietly.
“I was hungry.”
Alan sat back against a cardboard box.
There were many kinds of silence.
Some came from fear.
Some from uncertainty.
Some from convenience.
He had begun realizing that Jessica’s power did not depend on everyone agreeing with her.
It depended on everyone deciding disagreement cost too much.
Alan photographed the handwritten note.
Then he called Karen.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Alan?”
“Hi.”
“Jessica said you were home.”
“I am.”
A pause.
“How’s Joey?”
That same question.
“How is she?”
Not “Is she okay?”
Alan noticed.
“She’s here.”
“Oh.”
“Karen, did you take pictures at Mom’s house around Thanksgiving?”
Silence.
“Why?”
“I found some.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“One has handwriting on the back.”
Karen said nothing.
Alan read the sentence.
SHE NEEDS TO LEARN WHERE SHE FITS.
Karen breathed out.
“Where did you get that?”
Alan looked at Joey.
“Storage.”
“Jessica kept those?”
“Did you write it?”
“No.”
The answer came fast.
“Do you know who did?”
“No.”
Alan waited.
Karen added, “I might know where it came from.”
“What does that mean?”
“Alan, I don’t want to get involved.”
“You already are.”
“No. I’m not.”
“You were at dinner.”
Silence.
“Joey was in the kitchen.”
Karen’s voice became defensive.
“She said she wasn’t feeling well.”
“Who said?”
“Jessica.”
“Did you ask Joey?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it was Thanksgiving.”
Alan nearly laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“It means there were twenty things happening.”
“There were eleven people at the table.”
“Alan.”
“Was there room?”
Karen did not answer.
“Was there?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Joey eating alone?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did it bother you?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
“Did you say anything?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Karen’s voice became strained.
“Because your mother had already spent the entire afternoon furious about the seating.”
“The seating?”
“She had cards.”
Of course she did.
Jessica loved place cards.
“Where was Joey’s?”
Karen exhaled slowly.
“She didn’t have one.”
Alan looked at his wife.
Joey looked away.
He asked, “Did you notice?”
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“Yes.”
Alan was quiet.
Karen’s voice cracked.
“You think I feel good about that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t know what was happening.”
“You knew she had no seat.”
“I thought maybe she wanted to eat upstairs.”
“She was standing in the kitchen.”
“I know.”
“On treatment.”
“I know.”
“And nobody moved.”
Karen started crying.
“I know.”
Alan’s anger softened.
Not forgiveness.
But clarity.
Karen had failed Joey.
That did not make her Jessica.
“What did Mom say about Joey before dinner?”
Karen hesitated.
“Nothing.”
“Karen.”
“She said Joey needed quiet.”
“What else?”
“She said Joey had become…”
Karen stopped.
“What?”
“Dependent.”
Alan looked at Joey.
She heard.
Her face went still.
“Exact word?”
“Yes.”
“What did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say anything about money?”
Another pause.
“She said you were paying for everything.”
Alan frowned.
“That’s my wife.”
“I know.”
“She said that like it was a problem?”
“She said…”
Karen sounded deeply uncomfortable.
“She said you had married somebody who would always need something.”
Joey closed her eyes.
Alan turned away.
His anger now had somewhere new to go.
Not because Jessica had insulted Joey.
Because Jessica had apparently been building a story about her.
A version of Joey that made every humiliation sound reasonable.
Dependent.
Difficult.
Sick.
Expensive.
Emotional.
A burden.
Alan asked, “Who heard that?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
“Mark.”
Karen’s husband.
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Alan swallowed.
“Where did the handwritten note come from?”
Karen was quiet again.
Then she said, “Your mother used to keep a little notebook in the kitchen.”
Alan frowned.
“What notebook?”
“Guest lists. Menus. Seating.”
“What does that have to do with this?”
“Sometimes she wrote comments beside names.”
Alan stared at the photograph.
“What kind of comments?”
“Dietary restrictions. Who shouldn’t sit together. Who was bringing someone.”
“Did she write about Joey?”
“I never saw it.”
“But?”
Karen took a breath.
“I saw your mother show the notebook to somebody at Thanksgiving.”
“Who?”
“Denise?”
“No.”
“Mark?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Karen’s answer surprised him.
“Joey.”
Alan looked at his wife.
Joey stared back.
“You saw the notebook?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Karen heard her.
“Yes, you did.”
Joey frowned.
“No.”
“Jessica brought it into the kitchen. You were by the pantry.”
Joey’s face slowly changed.
“What day?”
“Thanksgiving.”
Joey whispered, “That wasn’t a notebook.”
“What was it?”
“A place card folder.”
Karen said, “No. It was black.”
Joey went very still.
Alan looked between the phone and his wife.
“Joey?”
She whispered, “I remember.”
“What?”
“Your mom showed me a list.”
“What list?”
“Names.”
“Why?”
“She wanted me to know who was coming.”
Alan waited.
“And?”
Joey looked genuinely frightened by the memory now.
“She told me not to speak to one of them about my treatment.”
“Who?”
“I don’t remember.”
Karen said, “I do.”
Alan’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Who?”
Karen answered with a name Alan had heard many times growing up.
A woman who had known Jessica for almost thirty years.
A woman who sat on several local charity boards.
A woman who had once told Alan that Jessica was “the most generous person in the county.”
Karen said, “Margaret Ellis.”
Alan frowned.
“Why couldn’t Joey talk to Margaret?”
Karen was quiet.
Then she said, “Because Margaret thought Jessica was taking care of Joey personally.”
Alan looked at the pile of receipts.
The laundry-room photographs.
The plastic plate.
The side-door key.
And suddenly the question changed.
May you like
This was no longer only about what Jessica had done inside the house.
It was about what she had been telling people outside it.
