Chapter Forty-one: Mrs. Patterson
Olivia
Lunch with Julie and her mother is surprisingly delightful. I can tell that Julie still isn't sleeping well, but she seems relieved that the trial is finally underway. Her mother isn't quite as stiff as I'd expected her to be, and in fact has a rather raucous sense of humor. She certainly made you laugh, talking about Julie and Sophie trying to get away with things right under her nose. The maid catching them in the pantry was a particularly funny story, and soon we're all laughing.
"So, Miss Cabot? What is it that you do?"
"Well, I used to be an attorney, but right now I'm sort of… in between life choices." You squeeze my hand on the tabletop, and for once I don't feel the rush of panic at the discussion of your future… our future.
"Cabot. That name seems so familiar. Are you related to… Juliana Cabot?"
I can feel you sigh next to me.
"Yes, that's my mother. You know her?"
"Only in the vaguest social sense. She's a regular attendee at most of the functions I go to."
You nod politely, but I can tell you'd rather we changed the subject.
"She must be so proud, having a daughter who's dating a detective such as Ms. Benson."
"Mrs. Cabot has raised a lovely, charming, and intelligent daughter, who wouldn't be proud." I can't help myself, even though she's not here I feel like I need to defend you.
Julie's mother smiles, and her daughter changes the subject.
"I'm so grateful to you Detective, to both of you. Sophie's mother isn't quite as accepting as mine, and I want to be the one to tell her about us before she hears it on the news, or during the trial."
"I'm glad we could help Julie. I have to admit I've felt my share of… guilt about Sophie's case. I wish I could have done more for her, for both of you."
"If it makes you feel any better, she didn't talk to me about it either. All of the testimony I gave you was what I observed. Sophie refused to talk about the rape. I think she wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. Afterwards, she…. she wouldn't even let me touch her."
Julie casts a sidelong glance at her mother, trying to gauge her comfort level with the direction of our conversation.
"We hadn't been.. intimate since it happened. Then the night before she… the before we…. the night before I found her, she suddenly wanted me to touch her again. She seemed desperate to … to have some kind of physical relationship. Although now I'm not sure why. I keep wondering if maybe it was my fault. Maybe agreeing to … to make love to her pushed her over the edge."
I see Mrs. Naysom reach her arm around her daughter's shoulder, reaching to pull her close, comforting her. I don't have to look at your face to know you're watching them closely, wishing your own mother had reacted this way. I squeeze your hand again as the waiter brings our check, and Mrs. Naysom reaches to pay for the meal.
Alex
It's hard for me, watching Julie with her mother. I can see why the girl reminds you of me. Although we look nothing alike, there's a certain air about her that brings to mind the way I was raised. And with her blond, over-coiffed hair and regal manner, her mother could be a blood member of the Cabot clan. The fact that she knows my mother, even peripherally brings a bad taste to my mouth, but you squeeze my hand before I have a chance to stick my foot in it. I'm jealous of the Naysom's, of their closeness. Her mother is clearly of the same ilk as mine and yet she doesn't seem to mind her daughter's nature the way that mine does.
I'm impressed at how well Julie seems to be handling herself in this tragedy. She actually reminds me a lot of you. Listening to her talk about making love to Sophie the night before her suicide almost makes me cry. You told me that you had a hard time not seeing my face in her, and your face in Sophie, but to be honest I can see the reverse. I've never seen Sophie, but in Julie's eyes I see much of your stoicism. She has the look of you in her, the look I saw above me, trying to push the blood back into my shoulder.
We climb into the Naysom's large sedan to travel across town to the Patterson home, Mrs. Naysom and her daughter in the front, you and I together in the back, holding tightly to each other's hands. I can tell that you're nervous, but they probably can't. We're about to confront your worst nightmare. I know you often wonder what your mother would have thought of us. Someday maybe you'll tell me about it. Even I understand that some things truly are too painful to talk about.
The Patterson home is small, almost subtle. It looks out of place here, like someone stuck a Colorado cottage in the middle of New York City. A cross adorns the space above the doorbell, and in the door is carved "And in your hearts, make a living place for the Lord."
I guess you weren't kidding about them being religious. The Naysom's take the lead, ringing the bell and standing slightly aside so that the four of us fit on the stoop. When the door opens, I'm surprised to see an impossibly round woman with a shock of gray curls that peek from the cover of the handkerchief on her head. You'd mentioned that Sophie was plump, but I'm at a loss to see where this woman begins and ends. It's not that she's … fat, it's more that her body curves in a way that seem almost to make her blend into the space behind her.
"Mrs. Patterson, hi. You remember my mother Josephine? And the detective who worked on Sophie's case?"
"Detective." Ruth Patterson turns her gaze to me,
"I'm Alex Cabot." It's a struggle not to add Assistant District Attorney. This could take some getting used to. "I'm a friend of Olivia's. Detective Benson's."
She nods, but makes no move to invite us in.
"Ruth, could we… come in for a minute. We need to talk to you about Sophie." Josephine takes over the conversation, trying to steer us inside the house.
"Sophie is dead."
"Please Mrs. Patterson?" Julie's voice is pleading, and I notice tears welling up in her eyes.
"Mrs. Patterson, it would really be best if we talk inside." I smile widely, trying to reassure her that we're here as friends.
Olivia
Mrs. Patterson ushers us reluctantly into an overstuffed living room. The inside of her home seems to mimic her roundness, and everywhere you look there is a chair or sofa or rug that seems to be too full. On the walls are religious prints, on the bookshelf theological texts, and several different versions of the Bible.
I'm not sure if it's the décor or Mrs. Patterson herself, but the room feels impossibly close despite it's size. I don't hear the hum of a heater, but the house feels warm. She is an odd woman, and I'm starting to understand Sophie's reluctance to come out in this atmosphere. I can't help wondering what the father is like. The room falls silent, and I can feel you squeeze my hand. I guess it's my job to start.
"Mrs. Patterson, as you know your daughter was … attacked shortly before her death. We tried very hard to convince her to press charges but she declined."
"She told us she was mugged. And that that she didn't feel confident about providing an accurate description. She didn't want to send the wrong man to jail."
Riiiight. "Mrs. Patterson…" Julie saves me
"Mrs. Patterson, Sophie wasn't mugged. She was attacked and raped. She… she saved me, pushed me out of the way, made me hide. If she hadn't…"
Ruth doesn't look moved. She stares at my hand in yours, and I wonder what she's thinking.
"Ruth, none of us wanted you to find out this way." Josephine takes over. "I've been trying to convince the girls to tell you for quite some time. Even before this… attack. I want you to know how much we loved Sophie. She was like part of the family. We loved her almost as much as Julie does."
At the word love and its implications, Ruth's eyes go cold, and she turns to stare at Josephine. "Don't you dare defame my daughter's name."
"Ruth… please."
"My daughter was not a pervert."
I can feel you tense next to me. I squeeze your hand again.
"Mrs. Patterson, Sophie wasn't a pervert. She was gay. We… were gay. I loved her." Julie's tears spill over, and I can see her trying to restrain herself. Anger and pain mix together in her eyes, and Josephine moves to settle a calming hand on her knee.
Ruth gets up from her chair and moves to the bookcase, looking for something.
Alex
I feel you squeeze my hand, knowing that I'm thinking of mother. The two woman are from different worlds, but they may as well be reading from the same script. I watch Ruth cross to the bookcase, and search for something. I can't help the desire to pull Julie into my arms, wanting to shield her from whatever is coming. Her mother senses it too, and rests her hand on her daughter's quivering knee.
Ruth finds the book she's been looking for and opens it to a well-read section.
"Leviticus eighteen, verse twenty-two: 'Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind: it is abomination.' Leviticus twenty verse thirteen: 'If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death. Their blood shall be upon them'. First Corinthians chapter six, verse nine and ten: 'Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind'…"
Ruth continues, not bothering to flip the pages of her Bible to find verses… I suspect she knows every reference by heart, and I realize that she knew all along what her daughter was. The look in her eyes is angry, but underneath I can see such an incredible depth of pain. This is the face of a woman who wanted desperately to love the child she was given, and found herself unable. Growing up in church I too am familiar with the those chapters, well read in those verses. I believed them myself for a while. Julie looks shattered, seated in a chair across from me, her back impossibly straight and stiff. She doesn't try to fight her tears anymore, but stifles the sobs that threaten to rack her shoulders.
"Mrs. Patterson, Ruth… I know that you don't know me, but I think you need to know that what Sophie felt wasn't wrong. The Bible, in all its wisdom is just a book. The men that wrote that book didn't have the final word. Julie didn't choose to be the way she was, and I'm willing to bet Sophie didn't either. I know that I certainly didn't choose it. But I wouldn't trade Olivia for any man in the world."
I'm at her side now, standing with her at the bookcase. As I reach to touch her arm she flinches. I touch her anyway. I look to you, and you nod, encouraging this tactic. I almost cry myself at the proud look on your face. I usher Ruth back to the chair where Julie sits crying.
"Ruth, this young woman loved your daughter. And your daughter loved her. So much that she put her own life in danger to protect her from something most people never recover from. I know that you must be devastated, by all of this. Finding out this way, the attack, the rape… Sophie's suicide. But look at Julie, Ruth. Look at the way she cries for your daughter. If that's wrong… if that's wrong…" I can't help the catch of my breath in my throat, and feel you at my side in an instant, pulling me into a chair. I try to tell you I'm fine, but I know this weekend is still in the front of your mind. You kneel in front of me, hand on my heart, and I can't help feeling ridiculous at the level of your concern.
"Liv… I'm fine." You search my eyes and pull your chair back closer to mine, I'm just pleased you don't try to sit me in your lap. I look up as you sit, watching Ruth as she watches us. I wonder if anything has made an impact. She turns back to Julie, watching her cry, focusing on Josephine's hand resting on her daughter's knee. She steps away, almost out of the room staring at a framed print that hangs just to the left of the entrance of the living room.
"I knew." She turns from the picture of Jesus with a group of smiling children and returns to her perch on the sofa. Julie seems to stiffen even more, if it's possible, and turns to stare at the last link she has to a woman she loved.
"Sophie never told me but I knew. When you girls were in high school, I was glad she had a friend outside this house. Her father's rules can be… oppressive. I don't think I realized what was going on until you were freshmen in college. You came home with her one weekend and I asked her why you weren't staying with your own family. She said it was because you liked being here with her.
"I knew noone would rather live here with Joshua, with his rules, with his religion. Sometimes I wonder if he didn't have a trick that let him get under your skin before you could see he was there. I never believed anything before I met him, and then suddenly I was using his beliefs to… to condemn our daughter. And then one night I heard you, in her room. Laughing. I cracked open the door and watched the two of you. You were lying in her bed, reading together. Some silly religious book Joshua bought when she was a baby. Her head was resting on your arm, and I saw the way she was looking at you, staring at you the way I used to stare at Joshua. Why couldn't she just tell me?"
I watch Ruth's resolve crumbling, tears building in her eyes, then dripping unnoticed down her cheeks. Julie moves to the sofa, sitting next to her should-be mother-in-law. "She was afraid to tell you. We both were. I tried, tried to get her to tell you a hundred times. But Sophie… you have to admit you and her dad didn't make it easy. All this religion, all this rhetoric. She was surrounded by messages that said you wouldn't love her if you knew. She was desperate for you to love her. I think the reason we spent more time here than at my home was because she couldn't stand to watch me with mom. She just… wanted to know you loved her."
Ruth breaks down completely, reaching for Julie's hand. I notice for the first time what looks like an engagement ring, and Sophie's mother brings the young woman's hand to her heart. "Her father will never understand. He couldn't possibly. Years ago, I tried to leave, to take Sophie with me and go away. She was just a child then. Her father found out and dragged us to the Parish. His priest kept us there for two weeks, taking turns with other parishioners, praying for my soul, praying to heal the devil in me that wanted to leave my husband. I didn't try to leave again. We didn't have anywhere else to go anyway.
"It took me awhile, to get used to the idea of the two of you. I kept hoping she would come to me, talk to me so I could tell her it was all right."
"We were… going to Canada, in a year. To get married. Sophie proposed a few months ago. I kept trying to make her tell you. She almost did. The weekend before…"
Ruth nods. "I would have given you girls my blessing, all of my blessings."
She sobs again, still clinging to Julie's hand, her thumb on the last thing her daughter bought. Between her tears she leans closer to Julie and whispers something not meant for us to hear.
"You will always be a part of my family. Thank you for loving my daughter."
You tug at my hand, and quietly, we excuse ourselves, using your cell phone to call a cab when we get outside. Our part in this thing is done, and it's up to them to build their family back again. Somehow I don't think it will be a problem now.
In the cab, I wipe tears from your eyes and tell you I love you, it's the only thing I can think to say after this afternoon, and I send you off to work, already wishing you were here at the apartment with me instead.