Accident
by Noll
There she is. Everyone’s angel. Making eyes at “Scotty” Baldwin. How insufferable. I should be grateful she never got it into her head to call me “Steffy”. I retch at the mere thought of it.
But he is not my problem. He is nothing. Nothing to her and consequently, nothing to me. It is still Luke.
Sometimes it seems as if she will lean on anyone. Except me. Not any more. I am so spent, I am not even worth stringing along. Not that I would allow it.
A car is heading this way. I’ll have to move. When it gets here its headlights will reveal me.
I turn away, but the noise of the engine is too loud and getting louder.
I am too far. Scotty plays the hero and pushes her out of the way. The car keeps going. Its lights blind me for a moment.
Scotty is lying bloody in the street. Laura is crying over him. She is screaming for help. The way she is screaming tells me that he is dead. Less than nothing now.
For some reason, it takes me a long time to make my way to her. When I’m there, before she sees me, I hear sirens and step back into the shadows. I can see her blood stained hands and sleeves. The ends of her hair are bloody where they dipped into his wounds. She looks at the paramedics desperately, pleadingly. As if just for her, they might raise the dead.
No, Laura. Not even for you.
She is angry, yelling. They try to calm her. Then she is nearly catatonic.
I was careless. And consequently I am being held at the police station for questioning. I have pointed out to them, very reasonably, that a car is a murder weapon one cannot easily conceal on one’s person. They just glare.
Nikolas wants to know what I was doing there. There is just enough suspicion in his voice that I decide that he does not deserve an answer.
And what could I say. I was stalking your mother. His. So proprietary. I knew her first. Not that I wish to go by that. Because Luke knew her before that. And Scotty knew her before. And look where that has gotten him.
S: “Are you an angel of death?”
I think it is a fair question.
L: “Are you?”
Her eyes are red rimmed. She doesn’t make any sense.
S: “Are you asking me if I did this? You never knew me, did you?”
L: “Did you kill him?!” She screams.
So irrational.
I turn my back on her and walk away. I don’t remember making that decision. It just hurt to look at her. Those wild eyes that cannot see me.
I have tried to remember that moment just before the lights turned everything painfully white. But I only saw her. I only ever see her. How useless.
And what would I do with the information anyway? Play the savior. Make a fool of myself once again. No.
There is only blackness there anyway. No face behind the wheel. I can picture my mother. She did it once before. But I never saw her or anyone.
Luke is rambling. Laura isn’t really listening, but I am. He has bad dreams, a dark figure, woman’s hands reaching for him, promising relief, a safe haven. He can’t see his face. He keeps chasing him but never reaches him. Never sees him.
Now he is talking about plots, concrete, elevators, mysterious medical equipment, Helena. Nonsense. I have her watched. Constantly. She doesn’t make a move, she doesn’t spend a penny, without my knowledge.
Luke has been acting like a lunatic for weeks. He eludes my men for hours. Then reappears with a new delusion.
I leave her and follow him. We are in the warehouse district. There is a garage. Luke sits across from the car and kicks the fender in. It was dented already and dirty. Dry blood.
I phone in an anonymous tip.
Laura is angry again. She doesn’t believe it. She is talking about plots and conspiracies. Luke was angry before, indignant. He is quiet now. She doesn’t look at him.
I can see it all again. Just before the lights blind me, all I see is her. That is enough. She sees. There is a look: recognition chased away by denial. Then the screaming. It’s not for poor Scotty.
I trace the path of that car in my mind. The two of them, Scotty and Laura, standing together, close. If he had not pushed her…
S: “It is violence. It takes one form than another.”
N: “You saw it. Who was he trying to kill?!”
So impatient.
S: “Didn’t you ever see it? The similarity? Why do you think we have been locked in mortal combat with this man? He is as insane as the worst of us. Like Helena. If you can imagine what your grandmother would do it, then Luke would do it as well. He is never as elaborate. He doesn’t have the patience or the resources. But he follows Helena wherever she goes. He is at home in those dark places.”
N: “He is like her!” Nikolas gasps appalled.
S: “He thinks Stavros has come back from the dead. Your grandmother’s dream. He thought he chased him, but it was only himself. The one person you cannot catch.”
N: “And you are ready to pick up the pieces.”
He is smug. He thinks he knows me.
S: “Pieces of what? Your mother? She still denies it. She will readily believe that I did it, that I framed him. Before a ton of bricks lands on your mother, she will not accept that the roof is caving in.”
It is true. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to hear her defend him. My heart had jumped at the thought that this might finally break them. One look at her was enough.
N: “She can’t deny this. She saw.”
Nikolas has the same hope. I tried to tell him. That awful tale was for that. But it does not stick. He is her son.
S: “Even when she accepts, she will only accept it as obeisance to her. A bloody offering, a sacrifice to a goddess.”
N: “Stop it!”
I knew he would not listen.
S: “Again you don’t see what is right in front of you.”
N: “She isn’t like that! You only vilify her because she won’t have you!”
S: “And why do you think that is? Because I will not play her game. I see and I know what I see. I will not pretend along with her. The unvarnished truth is your mother’s enemy.”
N: “You stand for the truth?!” He is incredulous and laughs.
S: “No. But I see it. I see her. That is what she finds so unacceptable about me. She’ll forgive anything but that: mere mortal’s eyes seeing beneath her veils. That is why I have been cast out, banished.”
He looks at me wide eyed. Maybe I should have slept last night. Or not had those drinks.
N: “Has everyone gone insane?”
I try to be reassuring.
S: “No. Only Luke Spencer. He was seeing events turning over and over in a loop. It is rather disorienting. The past revisiting itself. Your love always leaving you for another. I am not surprised Luke snapped.”
Part of me knows the feeling. The glass of brandy makes its way to my lips as Nikolas looks on disapprovingly. I put it down. Luke has shown me a path I do not want to follow. One’s enemies do that. Mother does it all the time. Stavros and Luke did it.
N: “You’re blaming her?” It is an accusation.
S: “No. She is only being herself. It is not deliberate.”
I do blame her. But there is no point. I love her. I just don’t want to see her.
It is always like that. When you are not ready. When you are disheveled and need a shave, blood shot eyes from lack of sleep.
She barged in. Mrs. Landsbury tries to stop her. Laura turns to her sharply and only lets the housekeeper look into her eyes. Mrs. Landsbury withdraws.
I am laughing. I don’t want this. Not her here, like this.
S: “Why did you come here?” I manage to say when I see that her expression doesn’t change.
I cannot imagine. She only stares at me. I cannot tell if it is hatred or just anger.
I settle back in the chair. I like looking at her. Today she has not taken care with her appearance. I doubt if she has even glanced in the mirror.
L: “You think you know me, don’t you?”
Sounds like a challenge. I do know her. But I don’t answer.
L: “You look drunk.”
It is only an observation. She needs me sober for whatever it is she wants.
S: “I am not.” I assure her.
But I am smiling at her. No wonder she thinks I am drunk. When do I ever smile?
L: “Did you know this was going to happen?”
I am truly surprised.
S: “I am not clairvoyant, Laura. Is your accusation that I knew your ex husband would kill your ex husband?” I ask her facetiously.
But that isn’t her point.
L: “No. I don’t ... Are you saying you didn’t know?”
S: “I didn’t.” I confirm it because she looks confused.
L: “Should I have known?”
She looks even more confused.
S: “How? You are not clairvoyant either.”
L: “I knew something was wrong with Luke. I knew his suspicions were off the mark.”
S: “’But you never know with us Cassadines.’” I mock.
L: “Something like that.” She admits.
I see it now. What she wants.
S: “You want absolution? There. I absolve you. You could not have known. You could not have prevented this.”
I think she might leave now. She only looks at me with the same look as when she came in.
L: “You can’t absolve me. No one can. I want you to explain it.”
S: “There is no rational explanation for an insane act.”
L: “Not that. Not just that. Why am I going back? Churning my life over and over. I feel like… I feel like I’m retracing my steps. Like I lost something and I am going back to see where I might have dropped it. Or when you forget what you were doing, so you go back to the place where you last remembered.”
She figured it out for herself. Why does she need me?
S: “That is precisely what you are doing.” I confirm for her, in case that is what she needs from me.
But that isn’t it. She still looks at me as if…
S: “So you are taking one more step backwards. We already did this. It is not me. You dropped me, you found me again, and you picked me up, and you dropped me again. You have examined me thoroughly. I am not the thing you lost.”
L: “I didn’t know what I was doing then. Why am I reliving my life? Is it you?”
Only if I wanted to lie to myself. I sigh.
S: “Even if you were looking for me. It is not this me. You are looking for the other one. He is long gone. But maybe it is the old version of one of your other loves. It would explain why you can’t find him.”
I shrug.
L: “Or maybe the old version I am looking for is me.”
I am so proud of her right now. I had forgotten that bit of wisdom. The one you can never catch.
S: “I don’t know why. You were never better than you are now. You have never been stronger.”
L: “How can you say that?”
I really don’t know. There is something I admire in her now more than ever.
She is looking at me again, searching my face. She knows I love her. She just doesn’t know if she loves me.
The End
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