Bold and Simful

Naturally the first few days had been tough but Catherine had adjusted surprisingly well to life inside the walls of Horizon House. The regularity and routine, knowing what was expected of her and what to expect from others, seemed to clear her mind.

The spartan accommodations, everyone’s room was exactly the same, had been a shock to her pampered system but as she pulled up the covers on the single cot she realized that there was a certain freedom in stripping life down to the bare necessities.

She had even begun to come out of her shell and make friends with the other residents.  She and Andie had their love of designer clothes in common and, though Catherine still wasn’t sure how this was an addiction that would send one to rehab, she enjoyed talking with Andie.

“Learning to sew has given me an idea,” Andie revealed one morning, “I realized that if I can make potholders, I can make clothes.  I can be a designer… I’ve already been granted a membership to My Muse Art Studio and one day I’ll go on Project Runway!”

Catherine was encouraging, “You should start sketching a new spring line, if it’s good enough you might find a financial backer closer than you think.”  Catherine’s mind whirled with the idea of having a purpose when she got out, Francis was always so busy and the kids were grown and had lives of their own, her greatest fear was to be left in that rambling monstrosity alone again but if she had a project, an investment, she wouldn’t be tempted to drink.

When Rose had a breakdown one morning, it was Catherine who was there to talk her down.

“I can’t do it, Catherine.  I need those pills,”  Rose cried out.  “It’s been decades since I’ve lived without them.”

“Rose, Rose! Are you having pain?” Catherine asked.

Rose turned and thought for a minute, as if mentally running over each body part and assessing whether it ached or not. “No? No…I don’t think I am!” She was completely surprised.  “I’m not!”

“See, so you don’t need a pain pill then,” Catherine reasoned.

But there was one resident that no one, not even the Doc, seemed to be able to help.  Paul, who had entered Horizon’s of his own free will, was spiraling out of control. He had recently taken to playing with and talking to one of Wayne’s bricks, he even had Wayne paint a woman’s face on it.

“You can do it, little lady.  Stand up!  Go ahead, stand up, little gal!” Paul cooed to the painted rock.  No one was sure how to help him.

Catherine had advanced in her crafting skills and she was stockpiling quite an inventory of arrangements which had led her to consider following Andie’s example and opening a business of her own in the future.  She was busy thinking of names for the shop when Dr. Holdon entered and complimented her on her progress.

“Your visit with Elizabeth the other day sparked a real change in your outlook, Catherine and that has given me an idea.  I think it would be most beneficial to your progress if you visit with your husband,” he revealed but had to temper Catherine’s excitement, “We will be going to the house in which you fell into your addiction, so I will need to visit with you, monitor your behavior, for the first few visits.”

The doctor’s caveat had no effect on Catherine’s excitement, she was going home.

Francis‘ chilly reception of them had almost sent Catherine straight to the bar, but with the doctor’s mantra running through her head ‘idle hands, idle hands‘, she had picked up a pool cue instead.

The good doctor could not imagine that a family wouldn’t want one of its members back in the fold, but that was the distinct impression that he was getting from Francis.

“Of course I see your point Dr. Holdon, but surely you must see mine as well,” Francis had pulled the doctor into the living room away from his wife, “I can not have her here if her behavior will at all jeopardize my image, company, foundation or family name.”

“Her improvements are significant but of course I can not make any guarantees…”

“Yes, yes and that’s what I am looking for, a guarantee,” Francis leapt on the doctor’s doubt, “Perhaps you should keep her until you can make a guarantee.  Though I don’t think she will ever be fully healed, I’ve been reading about addiction and it seems to me that one is always an addict.”

The doctor caught the full implication of Francis’ words, ‘this man has moved on already, he has no intention of letting Catherine come home,’ and he was repulsed.

When they returned to Horizons, Dr. Holdon tried to soften the blow of Francis’ refusal but he wasn’t making himself clear. Catherine still looked hopeful, as if Francis would change his mind, but the doctor knew that wasn’t going to happen and he wasn’t sure how to explain that to her without sending her back into the bottle.

From where she lay lounging on the couch, Rose gleaned the course of recent events and waited patiently for the doctor to leave.  She knew what it was like to not be wanted by your loved ones.  When her hair had turned grey and she had that one little accident with the stove, her children had tried to sell her home and send her to a “assisted living community”.  Rose had gone on the lam and bought a ticket for a cruise ship, which was how she forgot her pills, which was how she had recognized her addiction, which was how she had ended up at this moment able to completely understand what Catherine would be going through when she realized exactly what her husband was planning to do to her.

Catherine’s sleep that night was fitful, Francis’ was not.  Cuddled next to his mistress in her home just down the street from Horizons, he slept without a care in the world.

“Francis said that you should just sign the papers,” Shelly reprimanded after Catherine had throw the papers she was sent to deliver on the ground.

“Francis? Awfully familiar aren’t you?  I’m sure you would like it if I “just signed the papers”?” Catherine knew without looking what the papers were, they were divorce papers.  She hadn’t allowed herself to consider such a possibility until she and Rose had talked into the wee hours of this morning.  “Well, I’m not going to sign away everything so easily, you go tell Francis that.”

“Mrs. Mendenhall, I think you are making a grave mistake. The terms are quite fair,” Shelly began.

“You calculating, cold ass bitch…get out!  Get out of my sight!” Catherine’s voice was threateningly quiet and measured and Shelly was smart enough to beat a hasty retreat, leaving the papers laying on the ground.

Catherine stood scowling after her husband’s secretary.  Right now she was angry, grief hadn’t hit her yet and she wasn’t sure that it ever would.

Posted on June 27th, 2008 under Mendenhall. Tags: catherine, francis, Mendenhall, rehab, shelly. RSS 2.0 feed. Leave a response, or trackback.