Afterward, we went onto the roof, and I apologized. No matter how I said it, it sounded weak. I was doing it as much for myself as for her. My own loss of control shocked me. I was far from the perfect young man I wanted to be. How arrogant of me to think I was always going to be in full control of my emotions, my feelings, my body. I knew Cathy believed I was, and in a way, that made me feel even guiltier, but there was nothing to do now to change what had happened. I even hated my apology. I wasn’t absolutely sure, of course, but I assured her that she wouldn’t get pregnant. I vowed never to let it happen again, but to be honest, I was afraid it would, as long as we were trapped here. It was September, and I was thinking that with winter coming, we had to rush this escape now. We had almost four hundred dollars. I estimated that if we stole some of Momma’s jewelry, we could get by. The twins needed a good physical examination as soon as we arrived somewhere. For many reasons, therefore, we had to move soon.
One early October evening, when we knew Momma was going out, we prepared sacks for our foray into her bedroom. Winter was well on its way. We had to get out before snow began to fall. I was prepared to do everything I had to do, but then the worst thing of all happened.
Cory became very, very ill. He was throwing up so much I knew he would be dehydrated. My first suspicion was food poisoning, maybe sour milk, maybe bad meat. He fell asleep beside Carrie and Cathy, and I stayed up all night watching over him. He was far from better in the morning. It was even more serious than I had first thought. When our grandmother came in to leave our basket of food, Cathy told her how sick Cory was. She left without promising anything, and I was about to reveal that we had our key by going out for our mother myself, but just before I did, she and our grandmother came in.
Cory was struggling to breathe by now, and Momma was standing back, whispering to our grandmother. Cathy lost her temper and began screaming at her. Momma slapped Cathy, and to my astonishment, Cathy slapped her back. I thought our grandmother would pound her or something, but she smiled at the confrontation as if it was the proof she needed that we were evil children or that Momma was getting what she deserved. I seized Cathy and pleaded with her to stop and let Momma do what had to be done. Cathy screamed at her anyway and vowed to take revenge on her.
Grandmother Olivia surprised me again. She told our mother that Cathy was right. Cory had to be taken to a hospital. They both left and didn’t return until the servants were retired. Cory was in a horrible state. I thought he was practically in a coma. When they returned, Momma bundled him up to take him out, and Carrie got hysterical. Cathy calmed her by telling her that she would go with Momma and stay with Cory in the hospital. I told Momma that was a good idea, because Cory had become so dependent on Cathy, but Momma shook her head, and they left, locking us all in the room again.
The three of us went to sleep that night, embracing each other, clinging to each other, terrified for our little brother and terrified for ourselves.
How should I write the rest of this? I am sitting here and struggling with the words. My hand is shaking so hard that I don’t think I can write. The words will be distorted on the page. I feel like I’m crumbling inside. My body is turning inside out, in fact. Now Cathy looks like she’s the one in a coma. She holds Carrie as if Carrie is made of air, weightless, a hollowed-out doll.
The best way to write this, to get it down, is to tell it straight and factually.
Momma and our grandmother returned.
Momma said she had admitted Cory to the hospital. It was under a different name, pretending he was her nephew.
She said he was diagnosed with pneumonia.
She said he died.
It was too late.
My little brother was dead.
When we asked about a funeral for him, she said it was already done.
Cory was dead and gone.
Momma left without any more details, our grandmother following right behind her.
I am writing all of this coldly, because I’m afraid if I don’t, I will not be able to write a word.
I knew better than ever now that we were all dying or doomed, all three of us. Carrie was wilting even more quickly now without Cory at her side. I had read a great deal about the immune system people had normally, and I was convinced that ours were so weakened by our years of incarceration that we would die from the smallest germ. I explained it to Cathy, but she looked like she wasn’t hearing anything much anymore.
I would go out one more time, I told her, and get everything of value I could, and then we would leave. We just had to wait until I was sure Momma would not be in her bedroom. I couldn’t imagine her going out to parties and dinners so soon after Cory’s death.
Finally, I felt the timing was right. I told Cathy to prepare for our escape. I’d be back with whatever I could, and that would be that. The little glimmer of hope that appeared in her eyes urged me forward to be careful and to be fruitful. I had to get us out now.
I was shocked at what I discovered when I snuck into Momma’s bedroom. Not only was she gone for the night; it looked like she was gone forever. Her vanity table was cleared, the drawers were empty, the closet was empty, and all the drawers in it were emptied of anything valuable. It looked like someone was told to vacate the premises and leave nothing of any value behind her. I kept searching. There were heavy mink coats left, but nothing we could carry out in a suitcase. I made one last desperate search of a drawer and was shocked to find our father’s picture. Beside it were Momma’s wedding and engagement rings. These were valuable pieces we could take, but why would she leave them? Did she want to forget her past that much? Did she know we were stealing from her and Bart and she’d left them for us? How ridiculous that sounded, and how foolish I was to cling to the hope that she still cared. Was that the last remnant of my once love for her, a love I thought would be undying? I chased the thought from my mind.
We didn’t have enough, I kept thinking, and decided to take a great risk and sneak into our grandmother’s bedroom. But when I got there, I could hear that she was there. I peered through the slightly opened door and saw her sitting on her bed, her head bald. That hair we had come to hate was nothing more than a wig. She had never looked uglier to me. She was holding the Bible. I heard her asking God to forgive her sins, to consider that all she had done she had done to please him. Never did I think of her as more insane than at that moment. I hated and pitied her at the same time.
Still worried about not having enough with which to leave, I ventured down to the rotunda and then into the library. I saw what had to be our grandfather’s desk and thought it was just possible that he had money in one of the drawers, but what caught my attention first was the sight of all the medical equipment neatly wrapped up and the hospital bed stripped of everything. How odd, I thought, but before I could investigate any more, I heard voices and quickly went down on my stomach behind a sofa. Two servants had entered, and I overheard their conversation.
As I write this, my throat feels like it’s closing up on me, and I’ll soon struggle to breathe. I am writing quickly to get it down and over with.
What I heard before they started to make love right there on the sofa.
Our grandfather was dead. He had been dead for almost a year!
He had left everything to our mother, who hadn’t come up to free us and start us on a new, wealthy life.
As far as the servants knew, our grandmother had been poisoning an army of mice in the attic. She had been using arsenic, a white substance. She had been giving us sugar-coated doughnuts, which we all devoured, especially Cory.
When I told all this to Cathy, she was stunned into disbelief. I c