Desperate for a way to engage, I glance down at the book she’s grasping with pale, gnarled fingers. The title isThe Picture Book of Birds.
“What a charming cover. And I know you’ve always been an avid birder.”
In a flash, the blankness leaves her eyes and there’s an inquisitiveness there now, as if I’ve somehow triggered a moment of lucidity.
“I saw a bullfinch today,” she announces. “A male with a red-orange breast.”
“Oh wow,” I say, surprised by the specificity. “Did you see a picture of it in the book or was the bird outside?”
“Outside.”
“That’s wonderful. What other birds did you spot this morning?”
She doesn’t respond.
“Well, I’m glad you got to see the bullfinch at least.”
Her gaze slides off my face, and I realize I’m losing whatever ground I gained.
“Liz, I need to ask you a question. Has anything been bothering Jamie lately? Has he mentioned any concerns to you?”
I hate myself for even breathing Jamie’s name. What if she’s missed him and is wondering why he hasn’t been to visit her? And yet, I remind myself, the Liz I know would be urging me to find the truth.
She suddenly shifts her attention back to me. “What is your name?”
“Kiki. I’m Kiki Reed. I used to come visit you.”
“Are you a friend of Tori’s?”
“I know Tori, for sure. Was Jamie worried about Tori? About Liam and Tori?”
“I don’t know you,” Liz says. Her voice is cold now, and her eyes flicker a little, as if in fear.
“We don’t know each other well, but we’ve met on numerous occasions. I came to vi—”
Without warning, she lets out a high-pitched keening sound, one that seems to get louder each second, like a siren piercing the night.
“Liz,” I say, reaching over to touch her hand. “Please, youdoknow me, I’m Kiki.”
But the keening doesn’t stop. By now everyone in the room is glancing over, and the staffer who escorted me here is on her feet, moving fast in our direction.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “She doesn’t seem to know me and it’s scaring her.”
The woman speaks softly to Liz, offering words of comfort that immediately calm her, then turns back to me.
“It’s not your fault. But it’s probably best that you end your visit now.”
“Yes, understood.” I look into the woman’s eyes, trying to keep the shakiness I feel out of my voice. “You won’t say anything to her family, will you? I’d be so embarrassed to have them know.”
“Don’t worry,” she says, “and please don’t take this personally. Sometimes small things can stress her out.”
I murmur goodbye to the attendant, but I don’t dare address Liz again. Though I feel frantic, I force myself to walk toward the door at a leisurely pace, so as not to draw even more attention to the situation. By the time I reach the parking lot, my heart’s racing and shame has blistered inside me. It was wrong of me to come. Wrong and callous.
The drive home is a blur, and once I reach the house, I slink inside like a dog with its tail between its legs. Though I showered already today, I take a second one, this time with lukewarm water. It cools me down but does nothing to wash away my distress. I pray that Liz is feeling okay now, and that the attendant was sincere when she said she won’t report my visit to Drew. Because that could make matters even worse.
Over a late lunch, I google “bullfinch,” wondering if there was any significance to Liz bringing it up. The male of the species turns out to be absolutely gorgeous, with a pinkish-red breast, gray back, and black cap, but it’s found only in Asia, parts of Europe, and the UK. So Liz must not have seen one today but had tapped into a memory from years ago, perhaps when she was visiting Europe with her husband.
The moment hadn’t been truly lucid after all. Which means that even if Liz hadn’t become upset today, she probably wouldn’t have been able to share coherent or credible information about Liam. And she might not have told Jamie anything of value, either.
