"Yes. I have an appointment. It feels so different coming here this way."
"I suppose it is different, eh?"
"Yes. I've got another twenty minutes or so to wait. Maybe we can talk?"
"Of course. What did ya want to talk about?"
"I . . . Jack told me the truth about Mitch. Needless to say, I don't think I love him anymore."
The nun softly smiled, "I understand."
"He tried to kill my son."
"Yes."
"I don't love him, but a part of me still wants to see him, to ask him why he buried my son alive. To ask him why he did the hateful things he did. I thought he . . . wasn't a bad man."
"Everyone's perspectives are different, Dear Heart." The nun could not believe Bitsy really felt that Mitch was a good man; she had named him "The Evil One" herself.
"He loved me."
She paused at this. "Yes, I am certain that he did."
"Sister, something else?"
"What is it?"
"I heard . . . Blair comforting Todd. I heard him playing a tape. His own voice, he was a child. He was begging . . ." she stopped and composed herself, "he was begging for help. I walked away quickly as not to disturb them, but it hurt me, here," she said, pointing to her chest.
The nun felt flushed and sat down a moment, and Bitsy followed suit. They both occupied the bench outside Ray's office. The sister said, "That's horrible. But I think I know what that is about. Those are tapes of 911 calls he made, as a child, to try and save ya and himself. My brother was just telling me about that last night."
"He called the police? I didn't know. They . . . never came, Sister."
"No."
Both women stared ahead, silent. Then, Sister Rebecca Katherine felt Bitsy slide her hand into hers.
***
"Have you been doing what I said?" she asked, poking at the food in her plate.
"Yeah, I've been doing what you said. I always listen to you, or at least try to."
"Soon, then, we'll just carry out the rest of it."
"What rest of it?"
"Going and getting what's yours."
"What's mine?"
"Yes. You know what I mean, we've talked about it before."
He wasn't sure he believed her or thought it was a good idea. In fact, everything she had convinced him to do he was unsure of at this point. Something about it felt . . . very wrong. "I'm not so sure about it."
"You've been making the calls?"
"Yeah, I've made them."
"And it's working?"
"I guess so. I don't know, I can't really tell."
"It's live, you should be able to see if it is working. Does he seem like he's believing you?"
"I don't know. The last time . . . let's just say I don't feel so good about it."
"Well, do you want Todd to continue to do harm? I mean, look at his life!"
"How do you know he's not just doing his best? It's not his fault."
"He deserves it all, every bit."
"You're so angry about this, I don't like that. It's like you care about it more than I do. That makes no sense."
"You promised to do this," she said.
"I said I'd consider it. I said I'd call to make sure things are okay. I never promised to change his world on him."
"What's the alternative? Let that maniac influence him? How is that a better option?"
"I don't know, I guess the alternative is you letting go of this."
"Well, you can count on that NEVER happening."
He ate. Then he said, "The calls are one thing, keeping touch, whatever. The rest . . . we're going to have to talk about it."
She slammed her fork down under her palm and left the table.
***
"Good afternoon, Bea," Ray Martino said.
"Hello, Doctor."
"How are you?"
"I'm . . . all right."
"Adjusting to living at Todd's?"
"Yes. I love being there. I love the children."
"I know, they are good kids."
"They are. Todd and Blair love them so much, and they love each other so much."
"I can't argue with that. So, what should we talk about today?"
"Something bad."
He frowned. "All right, something bad. What's the something bad?"
"Mitch Laurence, he's bad. And then there's the tapes."
"Where do you want to start?"
"Mitch. I . . . loved him, you know. I couldn't stop thinking of him."
"Yes, I know."
"Dr. Martino, I didn't know what he did. He buried Todd in a coffin with his dead father's body," her voice broke at the end of the sentence.
He nodded.
"That's horrible," she broke into tears.
"Yes, it's horrible. Todd got through it, we worked on it in therapy, along with other things. He's been through a lot. To tell the truth, you know he's been through much worse than that."
She nodded this time, sniffling, and her crying stopped.
He said, "So, how do you feel about Mitch now?"
"Angry. I want to go and tell him how wrong he was and ask him why. But I told Todd I wouldn't go and see him."
"I see. If it's the right thing for you, Todd would understand."
"I don't think he will. He was very angry."
"Okay. Well, that's for you and Todd to work out."
"Yes, I know that. Even though I want to do it, I know I can't hurt my boy. I can't hurt him more than I already have."
"We talked about that, often. Todd does not hold you responsible for any hurt he incurred."
"I do. That's what matters. I do." She got quiet.
"What about these tapes, whatever that is?"
"911 tapes, from when he was little. He has them. There are two. He hears himself begging police for help. They never came. Why didn't I save him, and why didn't I call? This is what I ask myself over and over. He was," her voice cracked, and she began to cry again, "he was crying and Blair was holding him. I saw them, for a moment."
"It hurts you when Todd's hurt."
"Yes. I am so guilty. I was a bad mother, I never called for help. He was six, and he called. Peter was always hurting me, one way, or another. Todd saw so much."
Ray made a few notes. "That explains a lot, doesn't it?"
"Yes, I suppose it does." She continued to cry, and he handed her a tissue. She said, "And there's the suicide. The woman. The wife of that detective. She lost her sister to Peter's rage."
"I don't know much about that, Bea, I'm sorry to say."
"Well, Todd knows them, he knew hew, Timothy does as well. Timothy is so sad. Pamela took her own life, Timothy saw her dead."
"This might bring up things for you. Right?"
She got up and walked to the window. "Yes, it might. It does."
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Dr. Martino, you and Blair and Todd all say I was not a bad mother. But I was. I was," she sobbed.
He waited. "Bea, why don't you tell me why you think so?"
"I taught him all the wrong things. I taught him to go inside his head. To hide. To pretend to be someone else when he was being hurt. To go inside himself. I taught him the wrong things."
"On the contrary, Bea, as coincidental as it is, if you did not teach him that, he may not have ever survived the tomb, let alone the eight years of torture. It was a skill he ended up using, and that saved his life, quite a few times over."
"No, it's wrong. I should have gotten him away from it, not taught him to hide from it. I should have called the police myself, and if they didn't listen, I should have kept trying. That is what Blair would do. Blair would die for her babies."
"You almost died for yours, as well."
"Almost died."
"Yes, you fought for him. You were not well, and you were abused, and afraid. Bea?"
She did not respond. She was looking to the sky and very sullen and quiet. He repeated, "Bea? Bea, I want you to come and sit down, and we'll count together." He waited, and began writing notes to himself.
If she's gone catatonic, you've got a situation on your hands, Martino.
"Bea? Please let me know you're all right."
She sighed. "I'm all right, Doctor."
"Is there something you can tell me about? That I might be able to help with?"
"I'm responsible. For so much."
He decided to let her speak instead of countering. "Go ahead."
"I taught him to go inside himself. That made him quiet about his . . . his being hurt by Peter. Maybe he would have told The Coach, or something. Maybe he would have told a friend. Anyone."
"Go on."
"I taught him to pretend. To imagine being somewhere else. Someone else. To pretend to slay the dragon."
Ray immediately recognized the dragon imagery. It was in Sam's experience, as well as Todd's. Blair had integrated it into stories for the children as they grew. Todd was her dragon, but he had made himself that way in his words to her. Bea was the creator of the things Todd wished he could be. "What else?"
She turned and looked at the doctor, with her eyes, trimmed in red, and water coming from them onto her face. "I taught him . . . to keep and call the sparrows."
"You taught Todd about the sparrows? As a child?"
She shook her head "yes."
"Do you want to tell me more about that?"
"No," she said, turning away. She hung her head and sobbed.
Ray said, "Bea, it is simple. You gave him coping skills."
"No, Dr. Martino. The sparrows are not coping. They're not. They're ending it." She went hurriedly to the chair and took her cardigan, "I have to go, I want to go home."
"Bea, let me help you with this?"
"No, I can't. Please. I have to go!" She was frantic, and surprisingly, she stuck her head out the door and called his name. "Todd! Todd!"
Ray was stunned, and his mouth hung open. He'd never seen Bea behave as she was. He watched as Todd, slightly disheveled, appeared at the door, and she fell into his embrace. "I want to go home, Todd."
He looked over her shoulder at Ray, and his expression showed confusion. He said, "Momma, it's okay. We'll go home, if that's what you want."
"Todd, I'd like to speak to you, if you have a minute?" Ray said.
"No, Todd, please? I want to go," she interrupted.
It was unlike her and Todd was taken aback. "Momma, what's going on?"
"Can we go, please?" she begged, and he was almost afraid not to do exactly what she wanted. He had never seen her this way, at least, not as an adult and since she had come back into his life.
He said, "All right, Momma, it's okay," and she burst into tears against his shoulder. He comforted her and said, "Let's go. Ray, I'll call you later, is that okay?"
"Sure, Todd. Bea, I'll see you next week."
The mother and son left, and Ray sat down, examining his notes. Something was hiding inside Bitsy's heart, something she'd never yet been able to express, but he was pretty certain that he knew what it was.
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