Page 21 of Winter Sun

“I mean, she’s sick, I think. I mean, I don’t think she can help it.”

“Drinking?”

“And other things,” Katrina went on. “But I’ve never told anyone.”

Norm bit his lower lip and studied Katrina intently. “You haven’t told anyone?”

Katrina shook her head. Shame bubbled in her stomach.

“There are things you can do. Clinics you can take her to. I know of several outside the city. If you bring her here, I can make sure she meets with the very best doctors.”

“How do you know those doctors?” Katrina asked, caught off guard.

A strange look passed over Norm’s face. Katrina remembered, now, that Norm hadn’t wanted wine with Christmas dinner. In fact, she couldn’t remember seeing him drink anything in a long time.

Was he an addict, too?

“I’ve worked long and hard,” Norm continued. “But I’m healing. And I want to help Sophie find the help she needs.”

Katrina closed her eyes. A wave of terror and pain crashed into her chest. Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts, Agatha returned, complaining about the line to the bathroom.

“There are just so many people in New York!” Agatha cried. “You can’t find a place anywhere!”

Katrina and Agatha were seated in the center of row twenty, what they were told were “extraordinarily lucky seats.” Agatha sat, her eyes enormous, enthralled with the old-world theater with its glinting chandeliers and thick red curtain over the stage.

“They certainly put a lot of money into places like this, don’t they?” Agatha said after not speaking for nearly fifteen minutes.

Katrina found her mother’s excitement adorable, but she was careful not to show it. The minute Agatha felt you belittling her in any respect, she bit.

The lights dimmed overhead, and Katrina could hear Agatha suck in all her breath. On stage, a spotlight illuminated a figuretoward the far back corner. The actor was dressed in clothes from the fifteenth or sixteenth century, and he spoke English with an accent that was almost unintelligible. It took both Katrina and Agatha nearly ten seconds before they reached for one another’s hands in realization. It was Norm!

A moment later, the orchestra began to play, and Norm began to march toward the front of the stage, singing in a low, wonderful baritone. Katrina forgot to breathe. She watched every twitch of her brother’s face; she allowed his voice to carry her away. By the time he finished the first song with a resounding climax, Katrina’s cheeks were wet with tears. The lights went out immediately afterward, and Katrina and Agatha clapped louder than anyone else in the audience. They were off to the races.

The theater production lasted more than three hours. Ordinarily, Agatha would have complained about sitting still for so long. But even at intermission, she refused to get up.

“I don’t want to get distracted,” she explained, her eyes still on the stage, as though she expected Norm to burst out from behind the curtain any moment.

“If only your father could see this,” Agatha muttered again. “He would be blown away.”

After the show, Katrina and Agatha waited for Norm in the lobby. Agatha ripped the edge of her bulletin and watched everyone as they passed by, speaking a little too loudly about what they were wearing and how bright some woman’s lipstick was. Katrina tried calming herself down by remembering they would never see these people again. Agatha’s cruelty wouldn’t come back to bite them. Not this time.

Norm appeared around a half hour after the show finished. He still wore some of his stage makeup, which gave him an exaggerated, emotional look. Katrina hugged him and squealed, and Agatha kissed his cheek exuberantly.

“My darling son!” she cried, glancing around to make sure a few people heard her. “You were wonderful.”

“It wasn’t the best performance,” Norm assured them. “But it wasn’t the worst, either.”

“You sound so optimistic,” Katrina said with a smile.

They decided to head back to Katrina and Agatha’s hotel for a quick meal at the hotel restaurant. Norm was famished, and Agatha had seen a chicken Caesar salad on the menu that she said had her name on it. Katrina longed to dine out at one of the numerous Manhattan restaurants on any of the surrounding streets, but she also didn’t want to push her mother out of her brilliant mood. It was rare to see her like this.

The hotel hostess led them to a booth near the window. There, Agatha ordered a mojito, of all things, along with the salad she’d been excited about all day. And then, she said, “We just watched my son’s performance on Broadway!”

“Is that so?” the server hardly glanced up from her notepad. “Congratulations.”

After the server brought their drinks, champagne for Norm and Katrina and a mojito for Agatha, Agatha raised her glass and said, “Here’s to you, Norm. The artist in the family. Your father would have been so proud.”

At this, something cracked in Norm’s perfect smile. He placed his glass of champagne back on the table and blinked at Agatha. All the color drained from his cheeks.

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