Page 26 of Tear Me Apart
Lauren takes advantage to steer Juliet into the hall.
“Say your goodbyes, and get out of here.”
“Lauren, you can send me away, but it’s not going to change facts. This is going to come out.”
Lauren speaks in a furious whisper. “It won’t if you keep your mouth shut. Now leave, and I don’t want to hear you speak of this again. And if you let this slip, if you tell anyone your outlandish theory, I will make sure your bosses know you were interfering with the files here at the hospital. How do you think that will go over? I don’t think the CBI would take kindly to the news one of their employees was breaking into secure medical documents. Are we clear? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
They face off for a moment, then Juliet exhales a heavy breath out of her nose and sticks her head back into the room. She blows Mindy a kiss. “I’ll be back this weekend, peanut. Try not to beat your parents too badly. Especially go easy on your mother. You know what a sore loser she can be.”
“Bye, Aunt J,” Mindy calls, still under a puppy pile of pillows and blankets and dad. “Thanks for the candy, and the talk.”
Lauren’s eyes narrow, but Juliet tosses her a crisp salute and saunters off down the hall.
Lauren sags a little inside but doesn’t move an inch until she sees the elevator doors close behind her sister.
This is a problem. A very big problem.
Juliet is always a problem.
Later. She’ll deal with it later.
Pasting a smile on her face, she goes back into her daughter’s room to join her family.
13
UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL
NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
1993
VIVIAN
The new roommate doesn’t talk to me for the first week. She doesn’t talk to anyone, really, though she’s relatively polite to Ratchet, as if recognizing a kindred spirit straight from hell.
I’m in the art room, painting a seascape copied from a book, when I realize I’m not alone and look up to see my phantom roommate standing to the left of my easel, a thoughtful look on her face.
“You’re good. But you might want to mix in some vermilion. Your greens are all off. They lack depth.”
“Red won’t work.”
“It will tone your blue. Add it to the blue, then redo that line, right there.”
I bite back the response I prefer to give—fuck off, psycho—and try it. All part of my new life plan to be cooperative so I can get the hell out of here.
Damn if it doesn’t work.
The crests of the waves are suddenly alive, and the froth they churn now looks like proper seafoam instead of dead gray ice.
“How did you know to do that?”
“I paint, too.”
“Are you ever going to tell me your name?”
“What’s in a name? Names are stupid.”
“Or is it you don’t want me to ask for a newspaper so I find out what you did to land in here?”
