When Red Is Blue

By Sabrynne McLain

Kate Faraday, a young woman from a small town in Michigan, dreams of leaving her past behind her and moving to California. But when her schizophrenic mother is found dead in a ravine, Kate is forced to examine her conflicting emotions over her mother’s death, while coping with the demands of her alcoholic father and local residents who witnessed the shame of her childhood. In the end, Kate discovers that the most difficult relationship to reconcile is the one she has with herself.

When Red Is Blue is based on events that took place during Sabrynne McLain’s childhood and twenties. It paints a vivid picture of the emotional trauma and self-esteem issues faced by children of dysfunctional parents, while leading the reader through a journey of self-discovery and self-acceptance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sabrynne McLain
• Release date: Jun 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9780957128552

Sabrynne McLain

Sabrynne McLain received her B.A. and M.S. degrees from Michigan State University and then went on to hold numerous positions in marketing, operations and finance in the U.S. and U.K. In addition to her first published article in the Journal of Consumer Marketing, she has written for travel and lifestyle websites such as Pology.com and Panalba.com. During her tenure as a financial adviser, she was also asked to write a three-part series on financial planning for Scottish Woman magazine. She currently divides her time between writing (her author blog, the occasional article and her next novel) and working as a financial adviser. She lives in Edinburgh, U.K. with her partner Gareth Thomas and a very demanding cat named Barnaby. When Red Is Blue is her first novel.

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When Red Is Blue

By Sabrynne McLain

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Sabrynne McLain

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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ISBN: 978-0-9571285-5-2

For my parents

CHAPTER 1

October 1969

Katie slowly followed her mother up the narrow staircase. With each step, she heard the familiar creak of wood beneath her shoes as her eyes focused on the paisley pattern of her mother’s blouse moving above her. When she reached the top of the stairs, she stood silently watching her mother walk along the corridor; her head was bowed, reminding Katie of someone searching for a needle or some other small, lost object. Her dark eyes shone with a brightness that gave Katie an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly her mother froze — her attention momentarily distracted by something in the nearest of the two small bedrooms.

You see, Katie? she said excitedly. "I told you there were people living under the floor. Look! Over there…see what Friskey’s doing? He’s found their hiding place! Animals can smell things you know. It’s just like I told them…I keep telling them but they never listen."

Katie took two steps forward so she could follow her mother’s gaze into the bedroom, where the small gray kitten was tentatively sniffing a crack between two of the brown-painted planks. Although she didn’t know for sure what was under the floor, the announcement left quiet whispers of doubt that began making their way into her consciousness, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to will the confusing thoughts from her mind. A moment later, she opened them to find that her mother had continued her search, while Frisky had moved on to investigate a cobweb in the far corner of the room.

Feeling restless, Katie’s eyes scanned the walls, stopping at the places where the yellow rose wallpaper had started to peel. She wondered why her parents never used the upstairs for anything except storing Christmas decorations and old toys that she had outgrown or lost interest in. The room her kitten was exploring was dusty and mostly empty, except for a few cardboard boxes that were stacked next to the small door leading to the attic. And although she couldn’t see inside the second bedroom from where she stood, she knew it contained boxes as well, and her dad’s table from when he used to go to school.

She guessed it was because the downstairs was plenty big enough for the three of them. They didn’t even use the dining room except on special occasions like Thanksgiving or Christmas, because her father liked to eat in the living room so he could watch television. Whenever she thought about her father, she pictured him sitting or lying on the worn yellow couch, a half-finished plate of food and a half-filled bottle of beer on the card table in front of him.

It’s almost five o’clock. We’d better go back downstairs so we can start getting ready, her mother said.

Katie blinked at this sudden intrusion on her thoughts, and then turned and retraced her steps. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she crossed the living room to her bedroom. Moving to stand in front of her bed, she stared down at the items that were laid out on the blanket. The hat, the most important part of her disguise, was made of brown stuffed animal fur; it was big enough so she could hide her hair underneath it. There was also a new tan coat. Her mother had bought new clothes and a blond wig for herself as well.

Katie spent several minutes in front of the mirror struggling to hide all evidence of her auburn curls under the hat. Even though she was confused as to why they would want to pretend they were someone else today, this new game caused her heart to beat with excitement. Finally satisfied with her appearance, she returned to the living room and sat down to wait in the green Lazy-Boy that was her favorite chair. After a few minutes, her mother appeared in the doorway of her parents’ bedroom. Katie had to admit she did look like someone else in her short blond hair; a white flower was pinned to the wig above her ear.

Stand up so I can take a look at you. Her mother examined her closely, her eyes squinting in concentration. Then, after tucking a stray lock of hair under the furry hat, she picked up her purse and headed toward the front door, holding it open to allow her daughter to walk past her.

With a sudden burst of energy, Katie raced to the corner and waited impatiently for her mother to catch up with her. She filled her lungs with cool autumn air while she stared up at the purple and orange streaks above the oak trees. Then her mother was standing beside her; Katie placed her hand inside her mother’s and they crossed the busy four-lane street.

Beyond a row of shops, she spotted the familiar red brick building. A few minutes later, they hurried past the window with the flashing signs and circled around to the back. Her mother guided Katie through the heavy glass door and they walked quickly along the wall to a table in the farthest corner of the room. The bar was lined with men and women sitting on stools with their backs to them.

The sound of the door opening had caught the attention of one of the men, who had glanced over his shoulder and observed the pair on their way to the table. He nudged the red-haired man on his right, who, after looking behind him as well, motioned to the bartender. After a few moments, the woman placed a round tray containing two tall glasses of Coke, a glass of beer and a bag of potato chips in front of the man. He paid for the items and carried the tray to the table where Katie and her mother were sitting in their disguises. No one spoke as he set one pop in front of Katie, one in front of her mother and the potato chips in the middle. After placing his glass of beer in front of the remaining chair and sliding the tray onto the nearest empty table, he sat down and looked at his wife, eyebrows raised as if he were waiting for an explanation of some sort. She gave him a sideways glance, and then resumed her study of the drink in front of her.

So what’s with the wig, Sofia?

She lifted her head and beamed at her husband. I thought I would surprise you with my new look! I bought Katie a new outfit too. What do you think?

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his wife’s face. After several seconds, he turned his attention to his five-year-old daughter.

Katie was amazed that her father had recognized them so quickly. On the way to Danny’s Bar, she had delighted in the idea of fooling him, playing over and over in her mind how they would sit quietly at the table and her father wouldn’t know they were there, how she and her mother would watch him drink and talk with his friends until finally, hours later, they would let him in on the game they had played and he would laugh with them, telling Katie and her mother how clever they were. Now that they had been discovered so quickly, she squirmed restlessly in her chair and looked around the room. She recognized most of the men and women sitting at the bar who, like her father, stopped there on the way home from work. Although she didn’t know for sure, she guessed most of them worked at Cooper Gear like her father, because their blue pants and matching shirts were the same ones her father always wore.

What did you and your mother do today? he asked.

An uneasy feeling returned to Katie’s stomach as a picture of her mother searching the upstairs floor flashed across her mind. She peered up at her father, whose stern look always made her wary because it meant she could easily make him angry if she said something wrong. She knew it was mostly things her mother said that made him yell, but it didn’t really matter that he wasn’t yelling at her, just being in the same room with him when he was like that was scary. Before she had decided on a safe answer, however, her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

Well what do you think we were doing, Art? I told you all about it last night. There are people living under the floorboards upstairs —

Stop it! Katie’s father said sharply.

One of the men sitting at the bar looked over his shoulder at them. The bartender spared a glance in their direction as well, but carried on filling a bowl with olives at the end of the bar.

Shhh…people will hear what we’re talking about, her mother whispered urgently.

Her father’s light gray eyes became slits and his mouth tightened into a thin purple line. Katie looked up at him and her chest tightened with dread.

She had once found a black and white picture of her parents that was dated July 1950. It was one of many in a shoebox she had discovered at the bottom of her parents’ bedroom closet. They were standing next to another couple on a beach. Katie remembered thinking that even back then her father looked angry, his eyebrows squinched together and the sides of his mouth turned down, while her mother looked like she was enjoying the summer day. If Katie closed her eyes just enough so her eyelashes blurred the photo, her parents’ faces became the laughing-crying masks that were on the cover of a book her father kept in the bottom drawer of his nightstand.

The frown had permanently etched deep grooves in his face that began at each nostril and traveled downward, ending somewhere underneath his chin. He stared at her mother for what seemed like an eternity. Then he let out a sigh and sat back in his chair, his expression changing from anger to sadness, and Katie suddenly felt sad as well. He made her think of the clowns he would sometimes draw while he watched television, though she never understood how someone with such funny-looking clothes and a brightly painted face could be so unhappy.

You’ve actually seen these people, have you? he asked softly.

Katie’s mother stared up at her husband with large, bright eyes. No, of course I haven’t seen them, she admitted with hushed intensity. I told you before, they’re much too smart for that, but I’ve heard them many times! She paused to glance over her shoulder, and then quickly added, And today, one of them was talking about those secret government meetings in that room above the jewelry store —

Katie, hurry up and finish your pop so we can go home, her father interrupted.

Katie blinked, feeling scolded by the impatient tone in his voice. She drank the last of her Coke and then sat quietly watching her parents as they finished their drinks and put on their coats without saying another word to each other. The ride home was silent as well, with Katie sandwiched between her parents in the pickup truck’s cramped cab.

They lived in the part of town that her mother called the historical district. She loved walking past the old houses, with all their colors and fancy woodwork. Her father had once told her that two of the largest houses that were across the street from each other were connected by a secret tunnel. The tunnel had been built so slaves could go from one house to the other without being seen. Katie was imagining how fun it would be to hide in the tunnel away from her parents when they pulled into the gravel driveway in front of their house.

She climbed over her mother and jumped down from the cab, then ran across the lawn and waited. Evenings were her favorite time, when her parents would begin their end-of-the-day activities that centered on making dinner and getting ready for bed. Her father reached the front door and unlocked it; then he stepped aside so she and her mother could go in before him. Only this evening, he didn’t go to his couch and take his shoes and work shirt off before calling out: Sofia, I need a beer when you get a chance. Instead, he followed her mother into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Puzzled by this change in routine, Katie sat in the Lazy-Boy so she could hear what her parents were talking about. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could tell by her father’s harsh tones and her mother’s pleading ones that they were arguing. When she heard her mother begin to cry, she got up and walked into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. She hated it when her father made her mother cry. She just couldn’t understand why he had to be so mean. What was it about her mother that made him yell at her all the time? Tears filled her eyes; she blinked, letting them trace a path down her cheeks. She shrugged off her coat and pulled her hat from her head, letting them fall to the floor. While she struggled to pull back the blankets, she heard her father shout her mother’s name, though hearing the word through two closed doors made it sound soft and distant. Then she crawled into bed with the rest of her clothes still on and closed her eyes.

*****

Katie awoke to the aroma of bacon frying and an uncomfortable rumbling in her stomach. For the next few minutes she lay motionless with her eyes still closed, content to breathe in the smell and listen to the soft crackle of grease in the skillet. Another protest from her stomach, however, convinced her to push back the covers and swing her legs over the edge of the bed. She sat confused for a moment as she looked down at her wrinkled clothing — then she remembered she hadn’t changed into her pajamas. She put them on now and her pink fuzzy bathrobe as well, so her mother wouldn’t question her about it.

When she walked into the kitchen, it wasn’t her mother, but Mrs. Satterwaith who greeted her. Mrs. Satterwaith was an old woman who always wore sturdy black shoes and a plaid dress with an apron tied around her waist.

Katie stopped and eyed the woman in silence for a moment, surprised by her unexpected presence. Where’s my mom?

Mrs. Satterwaith’s expression froze, and then reworked itself into a be-happy-in-front-of-the-child smile. There’s eggs and toast and bacon…would you like some juice?

Katie nodded and continued through the kitchen to the dining room, where a place setting had been laid out for her at one end of the dining table. The woman served Katie her breakfast in silence, leaving her alone while she cleaned up the kitchen.

She stared down at her plate and listened to the soft clinking sound of dishes being washed. Why was that woman watching her this morning and where had her mother gone this early without her? She couldn’t remember one morning her mother hadn’t been there to help her get her favorite cereal down from the top shelf of the white steel cabinet and then, after she had eaten, to help her get washed up and dressed for the day.

Then the sound of keys rattling in the front porch reached her ears. She jumped out of her chair and bounded into the living room, expecting her mother to walk through the door, only it wasn’t her mother’s outline she saw through the curtains. She stood at attention while her father fumbled to get the key into the lock. Then the door opened and he walked in, stopping a few feet from the doorway when he looked up from the floor and noticed her standing there. For several seconds, they faced each other in silence; her father’s familiar frown seemed deeper than usual.

Come over here and sit down. He motioned toward the Lazy-Boy on his way to the couch, moving the card table out of the way so they could see each other better.

At first, he sat silently staring down at his hands that were clasped in his lap. Then he lifted his head and met her gaze, his eyes squinting and determined. Your mother had to go away for a while. There’s a couple who have a farm over in Acton. They have three other girls staying with them right now. I think Mrs. Thornton said one of the girls is close to your age.

Her face immediately betrayed the confusion and hurt she was feeling to her father, who said sharply, Damn it, Katie, what do you want from me? If your mother wasn’t a goddamn lunatic...

She continued staring into his bloodshot eyes — eyes mirroring her loss.

His expression grew softer. Honey, I can’t take care of you and work at the same time. And babysitters...well, they aren’t reliable, and they only want to work for a few hours a day. He smiled uncertainly. Besides, you’re still just a little squirt and you need someone who’s there for you like your mother was. It won’t be for very long, just until your mother gets better.

He sat back, patting his hands against the pockets of first his shirt, then his pants, until he found a pack of Camels and his stainless steel lighter. Katie stared at the floor, listening for the familiar click as he flipped open the lid with his thumb, followed by the scraping sound and the sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth. He tossed the lighter on the table with a thud.

Why don’t you go and ask Mrs. Satterwaith to help you get dressed and pack? I told them we’d be there by noon.

Katie stood up woodenly and went into the kitchen, where she found the woman standing by the sink.

Ah, there you are. I’ve left some clothes for you on the toilet seat. Do you need help getting ready? Her voice sounded higher than normal.

Katie shook her head and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later, she heard a faint knocking, and then Mrs. Satterwaith’s head appeared around the doorway. Everything okay? Her eyes traveled from Katie’s unruly curls to her knotted sneakers. Let’s go see if we can find a suitcase in your room.

Katie followed Mrs. Satterwaith into her room and sat on the unmade bed, watching her slide the suitcase out from under it. She scarcely noticed the clothes Mrs. Satterwaith was packing for her. At first, the woman had tried to get her to pick out her favorite outfits, but eventually resigned herself to grabbing various tops, pants and underclothes from the dresser after Katie continued to stare at her without comment. The heaviness in her chest had spread to the rest of her body, and she was doing everything in her power to keep from crying.

A soft banging sound drew Katie’s attention to the tall window facing the street. Through the thin white curtains, she could just see the outline of the branches being gently pushed against the window by the breeze. She glanced around her room, feeling scared and lonely and sad. Tears filled her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks.

Okay, Katie — that should do it. Let’s get your coat on and you’ll be ready for your trip.

She wiped her sleeve across her face and followed Mrs. Satterwaith into the living room where her father was still sitting on the couch. The woman handed him her suitcase and Katie and her father went outside, walking together across the brown-green grass to the pickup. Then she climbed into the cab and waited for him to tie the case inside the truck’s empty bed. Leaning her head back against the seat, she closed her eyes and concentrated on sounds and movement: there were sawing sounds of a rope being pulled through the handle, and a rocking motion when her father tightened the knots, then the door opened and the seat sunk on her left; it shut with a loud clang. The engine started on the second try; she felt first a jerking, followed by a smooth sensation of forward motion.

After a few minutes, Katie opened her eyes. They were on a two-lane paved road with land on both sides that would become fields of corn in the spring, but was now mostly clumps of dirt and broken yellow stalks. A sigh escaped her lips as acceptance gave way to curiosity, and she wondered what the Thorntons would be like. It might be fun to have other children to play with. Until now, she had played alone or with her mother, who would play Candyland and Chutes and Ladders with her, but wasn’t very good at games like pretend and hopscotch. Her parents had told her she would be starting school soon with lots of other kids. She hoped she would still be able to go to school where the Thorntons lived.

They rode in silence for a long time. Katie watched the dead stalks as they floated past, wondering about the families living in the farmhouses that dotted the endless countryside. Did they have children her age? Did the children’s mothers talk to them about secret societies that held meetings in a room above Erickson’s Jewelry Store, or the government trying to kill her because of all the secrets she knew about them, or even about people living under the floorboards upstairs?

We’re almost there.

Katie straightened up in her seat. She had expected Acton to be like Cooper, but it looked more like the little farm towns that surrounded it. They turned off the road they had been traveling on for the past two hours onto a smaller paved road. A few minutes later, the truck pulled into a long gravel driveway leading up to a farmhouse that looked like the ones they had passed along the way. When they stopped in front of the house, Katie noticed a faint stirring of the curtains. Then the door opened and an elderly couple stepped outside to meet them. The woman was tall and thin, her face a road map of wrinkles, with white, gray and black-streaked hair pulled back into a tight bun. She was wearing almost the same outfit Mrs. Satterwaith always wore. The man following behind her was tall and thin as well, wearing a pair of baggy overalls, a plaid shirt and a green cap with yellow letters across the front.

Katie, this is Mr. and Mrs. Thornton, her father said.

She smiled faintly at the couple. The woman began talking about how nice it was to meet her and how nice it was that she was coming to stay with them and how much fun she was going to have with the other girls who were also staying there. Then she stopped talking and the three adults stood facing each other in the driveway; the Thorntons were both grinning uncertainly, as though they had been told a joke but didn’t understand the ending, while her father’s eyes had settled on a tall oak tree that was growing next to the house. Eventually, she grew bored watching the adults and her eyes traveled to a large window. Beyond the white curtains, two shadowy forms were sitting at a table.

The woman straightened up and smoothed down her apron. Well, why don’t we go inside? The two oldest are working on flowers for a float. The high school’s having their Homecoming parade next week.

Katie followed them through the front door and into the dining room. Music coming from somewhere above her head drew her attention to a small radio on a shelf. She stared up at the plastic box for a moment, floating inside the familiar words and the sound of the woman’s voice.

Katie, I’d like you to meet Pamela and Janet, said Mrs. Thornton. They come from Vietnam.

She looked toward a large round table where two dark-haired girls were seated in front of a spool of thread, a pair of scissors and several boxes of colored Kleenex. All around them on the table were piles of tissue flowers. She glanced at her father, who smiled at her from the doorway. Then she slowly walked to one of the empty chairs and sat down. After watching Pamela for a few moments, she pulled several yellow Kleenex out of a box and laid them neatly in front of her. She had finished one flower and was making accordion folds in the second Kleenex when she heard the pickup’s engine start. She continued working without looking up.

CHAPTER 2

November 1989

The day was dreary and sunless, with a biting wind that could penetrate the warmest of winter coats. Kate fought to keep her leather coat closed by clutching it together with one hand while tossing her bags on the passenger seat of her blue Ford Tempo with the other hand. Then she slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her. This was perfect weather for the ninety-minute drive to Cooper, with no rain or snow to slow her down, and no blinding sun to force her into the ever-irritating search for her sunglasses, which, of course, she could never get her hands on when she needed them. She didn’t mind the drive, but she wasn’t looking forward to this trip. She eased away from the curb and cruised past several blocks of modest two-story houses, then turned onto the busy thoroughfare and headed toward the freeway entrance. These days, she normally only went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but her father’s phone call had prompted her to make the journey more than a week before Thanksgiving. That he had actually called her at all was cause for concern, since he had never done so in the seven years she had lived in Lansing.

The freeway was fairly untraveled this early in the morning. Her eyes alternated between the endless stretch of highway in front of her and the barren oak and elm trees that dotted the flat monochrome landscape, bringing to mind a scene in a black and white movie. Eventually, her thoughts returned to her conversation with her father the day before and an uncomfortable feeling crept its way from the bottom of her stomach to the middle of her chest and settled there. The last time her mother had gone through an episode — had it been two years already? — he had handled everything himself. He hadn’t even bothered to let her know until Kate had shown up on his doorstep for an unexpected visit, claiming he hadn’t wanted to take her away from her studies. So why the phone call now? Had something more serious happened, something that he felt she needed to know about, or had he just decided he was too old or tired or both to go through it again without her support?

Although her parents had been divorced for the second time since she was thirteen, they both still lived in Cooper. While they were still married, her mother had found the courage to purchase a duplex a few blocks from their house without her father’s knowledge, and had managed the monthly mortgage payment with the combined income from her Social Security check and the money she received from a family that was renting one side. Kate guessed her mother had known she would have to leave him if she was ever to free herself from the suffering that went along with his drinking and abusive behavior; she had simply been waiting for the right time, perhaps when she thought Kate was old enough to handle it.

When her father had gone to the hospital to get the calluses cut out of his palms (years spent working on the welders had caused them to thicken to the point that his hands would only open part-way), she had hired two men to truck several pieces of furniture and their suitcases all of three blocks to the duplex’s vacant side. But although the first couple of months spent away from her father’s drunken tantrums had been pure bliss, soon after she was forced to handle her mother’s schizophrenia on her own, which quickly convinced her to return home to her father.

As the years had ticked by, her mother had succumbed to her illness many times, and with each episode, she and her father had taken the required steps. In spite of the added complexity that her mother’s separation from them had caused when it came to monitoring her condition, however, Kate was still glad that she had finally divorced him. The idea that two people should stay married for the sake of the children was, in her mind, a singularly stupid one that did nothing but harm everyone concerned.

Kate’s laissez-faire attitude toward divorce was just one of her many views that was met with suspicion-bordering-on-disdain by the majority of people she cared to discuss them with. Even her graduate school classmates, whom she would have thought were more open-minded by virtue of being students, jokingly referred to her as The Statement.

Although she had come up with more sensible reasons for her distinctly non-Midwestern outlook, she had also flirted with the idea that her lack of fitting in was a function of geography; the stork had fully intended on depositing her with a progressive family in California or New York. Instead, the navigationally-challenged fowl had dropped her on the doorstep of a painfully dysfunctional family in Michigan of all places, thus sentencing her to life in the land of Ku Klux Klan splinter groups, the Michigan Militia and deer hunters. Fortunately for her, geographic dislocation was easy enough to fix, and as soon as she completed one more term of classes and the final touches to her thesis, she would finally be free to move on.

She had spent months trying to decide where she would go once the time came, and although it made more sense to move east, where her numerous aunts, uncles and cousins on her mother’s side of the family lived, she had finally decided on Los Angeles. She had vacationed there a couple of times during her undergrad years, and