She paused on the stairway and looked down at me. Then she smiled.
“Okay, Semantha. We’ll cater to your tantrums. I’ll go and change into something of my own. Satisfied?”
“And take off her jewelry.”
“Fine,” she said, and continued up.
My heart was beating so hard I had to take hold of the banister to steady myself. The baby kicked and kicked. He hates when I’m upset, I thought. He can hear the shouting. I went to get myself a glass of cold water. As I stood in the kitchen drinking, I realized just how much I relished bossing Cassie. As long as I was pregnant and she had to be very careful with me, I could face her down. When I saw her come downstairs again in one of her own dresses and without Mother’s jewelry on, I enjoyed the sense of power, a sense I had never felt.
“Satisfied?” she asked.
“No. I never thought it was right that you took Mother’s locket. I should have been given a chance to wear it sometimes, too.”
“You want it with my picture in it now?” she asked, smiling slyly.
“Yes. I’ll put my picture in it.”
“Fine,” she said, taking it off and handing it to me. “Here. Put your picture in it, but don’t lose my picture. It goes back in after … after you’ve had your turn. Now, are you satisfied?”
“Yes. Don’t put any of her things on again,” I added.
I could see the battle with herself in her face, the struggle to restrain herself and the urge to come at me as she usually would.
“I have some paperwork to do. Go upstairs and take a nap. Calm yourself down,” she ordered, and walked off to Daddy’s office.
I smiled and congratulated myself. My success gave me more courage and a burst of energy I had not felt for months. Drunk with my newfound power and filled with determination, I went upstairs and into Cassie’s room. I threw open her closet and began to take out each and every one of Mother’s dresses, skirts, and blouses. It was easy to tell which had been hers.
I’ll make sure she doesn’t wear Mother’s things again, I vowed. I formed small bundles with the garments and carried them one at a time to the stairway at the end of the corridor that led up to our attic. The light switch was on the right just inside the door. There were only naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling, but they illuminated the space well enough. I would put Mother’s things in an old armoire at the far right corner. The door had a key in the lock. I remembered the piece well, because I had been up there often when I was younger, pretending it was my own little house. In fact, some of my dolls were still set where I had placed them years ago. They were the witnesses today, watching my every move. I even spoke to them, the way I used to when I was a child.
“I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to stop it. Cassie is not our mother and never will be. It’s too painful for me to see her wearing Mother’s things.”
It took me three trips to get all of the clothes up and into the armoire. I was tired but still quite energized, so I returned to Cassie’s room and began gathering what I knew to be Mother’s jewelry as well. I could take it all up in one more trip. The armoire had some drawers in it. I pulled open the top drawer and paused. There was a pill bottle in it. How odd, I thought. All these years, there was a pill bottle in it. I didn’t remember it. How could I have missed it?
Slowly, I put the jewelry down on the floor and then took out the pill bottle and turned it in my hand to read the label. It was a prescription for sleeping pills Dr. Moffet had written for Mother.
Why was the pill bottle up there? It felt empty. Why keep it?
I opened it and looked inside. There were capsules. How strange, I thought. I emptied some into my palm and stared at what was there. They were all empty capsules. There was something familiar about them. I plucked one between my fingers and studied it a moment. The realization of what it was, what they all were, brought so much heat into my face I thought I might go up in flames.
They were Mother’s sleeping pills, emptied.
How … why empty them? Like another clap of thunder, the possibility ripped through my brain, and then, suddenly, it was as if a cold breeze caressed the back of my neck. Slowly, I turned and saw Cassie in the attic doorway. With the light behind her and the illumination weaker in the attic, she was in shadows. She didn’t move. She looked more like a ghost. I blinked to see if she would disappear, but she didn’t.
“What are you doing up here, Semantha?” she asked, still not moving in.
I started toward her slowly. “I was bringing up Mother’s clothing for storage,” I began, “and her jewelry, when I opened the top drawer in the armoire and found this.”
I held out the palm of my hand.
“So?”
“These are Mother’s sleeping pills, aren’t they?”
She didn’t answer.
“They’ve been emptied. Mother wouldn’t have emptied them to take them. She would have just taken them. Why are they hidden up here?”
She was still silent, but now I clearly envisioned the horrendous scene that was emerging in my mind.