Lindy had been staring at a painting in the waiting lounge in the rehab center for thirty minutes, waiting for her dad to finish his session with his therapist. It was one of those generic landscapes, something that Bob Ross might have painted in the 80's, with happy little trees and clouds that always had a friend or two. Usually she wouldn't have given a painting like this a second thought – it certainly wasn't provocative in any sort of psychological, sexual, or political way, so there was nothing to give her pause in her busy life. But, having to sit and wait for her father in the silent, sterile calmness of the rehab center, she found herself thinking about the world of the painting.

There were no people in the painting – just trees and clouds, mountains frothed with snow and everything gleaming in the sunlight. Life was simple here, having no people. No pain or anger, no betrayal or deception. Lindy started to wish she could be there in that painting, just being away from people in that simple, dumb beauty. She could see why such a painting was the rehab center – there was a sense of calm about it.


Leaving for Great Neck the previous morning ended up being more painful that Lindy had expected. Kyle sat with her while she packed up the last of her things for her trip. He was trying not to be bitter about her leaving. He was trying to be supportive. She knew that; she could see it.

"You'll be staying with your uncle, I guess," he remarked.

"Yeah, they have a really nice Victorian on the edge of Great Neck. Not unlike the house that my mom and uncle grew up in," Lindy told him, then chuckled mirthlessly. "Uncle John's always saying that my mom was beautiful, and there were tons of guys that wanted to marry her. He never seems to have any trouble with saying right to my face that my mother married the wrong guy."

Kyle scoffed. "Sounds like a great guy, your uncle."

"It's only a couple of days. I've been through worse."

"Yeah." Kyle paused, then added, "Like your first couple weeks with me, huh?"

Lindy stopped what she was doing and stared at him. Where had that come from? True, she'd been angry and hurt that her father left her with a complete stranger because he'd screwed up and forced her to give up everything she cared about, but she eventually realized that it had been a good thing for her in the end. She soon came to think of Kyle as being a dear friend.

"It was a little weird in the beginning, I admit. But there was a lot that I didn't understand at the time."

He looked away. "You know I had my reasons for keeping stuff from you."

"Kyle, why are we talking about this right now? You've explained everything to me, and I understand."

"Yes, I did. But…I don't know…you always seem like you're holding back."

And with that, something snapped inside of Lindy's mind. It had been something they'd been dancing around for some time, and part of her had hoped that he'd never bring it up. But, there it was. She stood over Kyle menacingly, and in spite of her petite frame, he found himself leaning away from her as if he were intimidated. "Funny thing about holding back," she replied coolly. "You lied to me for six months about who you really were, and you had everyone else around us lying for you too – including my father." She threw a blouse into her suitcase viciously.

"Another funny thing about holding back: I didn't play into your perfect little plan for me to fall in love with you, so you blew me off and wouldn't take any of my calls! Do you know what it was like for me in that hospital, watching my dad go through withdrawal? Listening to him moan and cry like a baby, begging for something to make the pain go away? All I wanted to hear was the voice of my friend, telling me it was going to be okay, but you wouldn't even pick up your goddamn phone!"

She could barely get out the last words she spoke, her throat was becoming constricted as a sob began to edge its way through her body. She turned away to get something from a drawer.

"And you think it was easy for me – any of this?" she heard him say, and his voice was stiff with anger. She turned back in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to argue back.

Kyle was still sitting on the bed, but his nostrils were flared and his cheeks were beginning to burn red. "I tried to be understanding and supportive – I really tried. And Baby, I'm sorry – but yes, I was thinking about myself too. Thinking that I could be trapped in that scarred body for the rest of my life. I don't think you understand how horrible it feels to love someone so much, and be convinced in your heart that they'll never love you back."

Lindy opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped, suddenly feeling drained. Instead she sighed. "No, I guess I don't." She came back and sat down next to him. "Maybe it's a good thing that I'm going to visit my dad. Maybe we need some time apart."

He didn't argue with her. He walked her downstairs when the cab arrived to take her to the station, kissed her dutifully as though they'd been married for twenty years, and promptly turned back to go into the house. But he looked back before he went in – and Lindy was glad, because if he hadn't, she was sure her heart would have broken right then and there. His look was full of pain. Lindy pressed her fingers against the glass, staring back at him even as the cab pulled away from the curb and he and the house were nothing but dots on the long street.


Finally Lindy had had enough of looking at the generic landscape painting and pulled her eyes away. As if on cue, the main doors opened and one of the attendants brought out her father. He'd put on a couple of pounds, but also looked exhausted. Lindy felt dread dropping like a stone into in bottom of her stomach when she saw him, but she stood and put on a smile.

"Hi, Dad," she said.

He just stood there and looked at her for a few seconds. At first, Lindy thought she'd made a mistake coming to see him; she thought he was angry or embarrassed to see her.

But before she knew it, he was rushing to her, crushing her to him, picking her up and twirling her around the way he used to when she was a little girl. "Oh, my baby girl. I missed you," he told her.

"Mr. Taylor," the attendant said in a warning voice.

Her father looked back at his keeper with hurt eyes, but obediently put his daughter down. Lindy straightened her clothes and tried to look cheerful. "You look great," she told him.

He smiled. "I'm glad you're here. I'm about to have some lunch. Usually I have it in the dining room, but since you came to visit, we can eat in my room so we can talk, just the two of us."

They walked across the courtyard to get to the adjoining building that housed the dormitories. Lindy walked arm in arm with her father, but she was still very much aware of the attendant walking only a few feet behind them. They passed other patients on the grounds, some sitting in groups talking with a therapist, others doing exercises.

When they got to the dormitories, the hallways were deathly silent. Lindy's father steered her through the winding hallways until they stopped at one of the doors. He gently pulled her aside so that the attendant could unlock the door and open it for them.

Her father's room was clean and sparse – not unpleasant, but lacking character. It felt like a hotel room to her. Floral bedspread, more uninspired landscape paintings, white walls. It could have been anyone's room. She walked in and took a seat at the small table by the window.

"I will bring you your lunch shortly, Mr. Taylor," the guard said before he shut the door behind him.

Her father came and sat down across from her. There was a palpable silence for several minutes as neither one of them knew what to say or how to start. Finally, he said, "I guess you're staying with Uncle John?"

Lindy nodded. "For a next couple of days. We hadn't really worked out when I'd be going back."

Her father looked puzzled, and opened his mouth as if to ask something. But he stopped himself before the words emerged. To Lindy, it seemed like he was trying to work his way to finding something out, but didn't know how to bring up the subject.

When the silence fell upon them again, Lindy decided to try to stay on the same track. "Uncle John said he'd been by to see you a couple of days ago. How was that?"

Her father shrugged. "All right, I suppose. It was generous of him to do that, seeing as how he's never really liked me."

It surprised Lindy to hear her father say that. Then again, being in isolation, away from people, the need to be discreet probably went out the window. Or perhaps seeing a therapist enforced the need to be open and honest about all aspects of his life.

Mercifully, there was a knock on the door, and a different attendant, dressed in a curiously charming outfit of a black velvet vest and white tie, brought in a covered wooden tray. As the man laid it on the table, Lindy's father asked if his daughter could also have a lunch tray too. The man looked uncomfortable with the request, so Lindy quickly spoke up. "Oh no, Dad. It's okay. I had a really big late brunch with Uncle John and the boys. I'm not really hungry, actually." In truth, Lindy had had no appetite since her uncle had picked her up from the station the day before.

Lindy watched her father eat his lunch steadily, though not voraciously. He asked several times if she wanted a bite of anything, and after only being able to refuse, she felt she needed to say something else. "I think you're doing great. I'm really proud of you."

Her father smiled as he chewed his last bite of food. "Thank you, Sweetie. In therapy, I've been taught that it's important to have a goal. Seeing you again is what I've been working towards." Lindy smiled and took his hand.

Her father covered their clasped hands with his free one. "I was thinking of going back to teaching. Maybe starting with something small, like tutoring out of our apartment. It will be good to get back home, won't it?"

Lindy felt her heartbeat begin to speed up. He didn't know that they didn't have the apartment anymore. What's worse, he believed that she was going to go back to living with him. She didn't want to mislead him, but at the same time, she didn't want to upset him and cause a possible relapse. That's how he'd ended up overdosing before. She ignored his text, and being hurt by her silence, the only way he knew to make the pain go away was to use and use and use. She'd have to choose her words carefully.

"Tutoring sounds like a great idea. And I'll be glad to help you get started," she said gently. "But, Dad, we don't have the apartment anymore. I had to break our lease."

Her father's face fell. "Oh, yes. Of course. I guess it would have been too much for you to have to keep paying the rent on your own."

We were barely getting by, even with you there, Lindy thought to herself. But she quickly dismissed the thought and maintained her precariously cheerful smile, working once again to steer the conversation to a positive place. "Uncle John said that he'd help get you back on your feet after you're…done. Why not find an apartment in Great Neck and settle here? I'm sure you could get a well-off clientele going in this area."

He nodded reluctantly. Lindy knew that he realized that this was a good idea, but he hated taking any help from his brother-in-law. "That's true. I'm sure it'll all work out – now that we're together and you're free from that monster."

Lindy bent her head and shut her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she prepared for the painful, inevitable conversation about her life with Kyle. "He's not a monster, Dad."

"Not a monster? Did he ever show himself to you? Did you ever see his face?"

"I have. And he's changed. I know it doesn't make sense, but…it's true. He's…changed."

"Oh Lindy. You don't need to defend him to me." Her father leaned in confidentially. "You know he lied, don't you? And he made me lie to you too, because he blackmailed me? I'd never met him before that night. He was stalking you, I think. He was obsessed with you." He shook his head. "I'll never forgive myself for letting him talk me into letting you stay with him." His eyes grew wide with fear and he grabbed her hand. "He…didn't hurt you, did he?"

Lindy shook her head. "No," she whispered. It hurt – it actually hurt to even imagine that Kyle could have ever forced her. She sighed. "Dad, I know that he lied. I know…he didn't go about it in the best way. But he saved my life. He protected me. I'm sitting with you here now, because of him."

It was her father's turn to shake his head. "No. No, he's a liar and a kidnapper. He couldn't find a woman the normal way, so he took advantage of our situation. He's nothing but a beast—"

"Stop it, Dad!" Lindy burst out suddenly. "I've spent all these months with him, and I know him. He's a good guy. We love each other."

And all it once it hit her, like a bullet to the brain. The words she'd spoken: we love each other. She'd told Kyle himself that she loved him, but she'd never told anyone else until then. In that moment, their life together became real and validated.

But now her father looked heartbroken. "Lindy," he asked quietly. "Are you saying that after I leave here…you're not coming back to live with me? Are you saying you're leaving me?"

"Yes," Lindy managed to utter. She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, holding it out to her father. He looked puzzled, but took it from her.

His fingers stroked the smooth curve of a small gold ring. He gasped as he turned it around in his palm.

"Mom's ring," Lindy told him what he already knew. "I found it when I cleaned out the apartment a couple of months ago. You told me you'd sold it."

Her father began to weep. Lindy laid a comforting hand on his arm, but she didn't back down. "Do you remember how you felt when you married her? Like the whole world was in front of you? Like anything was possible? Like you were free? That's how I want to feel. But if I stay with you, that's not going to happen. You need to live your life, and I need to live mine. I've realized since we've been apart…that I can't fix everything for you. I'd been trying too long."

He took her hand in his. "But I don't know what to do after this."

"What would she think if she saw you now?" Lindy asked him gently. "What would she want you to do?"

Just then, the attendant who'd escorted them to the room knocked on the door and entered. "Mr. Taylor, it's time for your exercises," he told them.

"Give me a minute to say good bye to my daughter," Lindy's father told him. He wrapped his arms around her. "I miss her so much. Even after all these years," he whispered to her.

"I know you do," she whispered back, then pulled away to look at him. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to see you before your therapy session, okay?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Okay." He allowed the attendant to lead him to the gymnasium. He turned around to look at her one last time, and waved. Lindy smiled sadly and waved back.

Fifteen minutes after she got her cell phone back from the rehab center's main office and made the phone call, Lindy was picked up by her uncle. The drive back to her uncle's house was silent and felt cold to Lindy, but there didn't seem to be anything she wanted to or needed to say.

Finally her uncle broke the silence after a while. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

Lindy didn't want to talk about it with him, but she also knew that as long as she was there, she had to depend on him and his family and needed to be as good a sport as she could. So she focused on the positive. "He looks good. We had a good talk. And he seems to have settled in to the rigid schedule they have him on."

Her uncle scoffed lightly as he turned off of the highway. "He's certainly had enough time to adjust to it. But it's good to know that he's finally behaving himself."

Lindy frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

John took his eyes off the road for just a moment to give her a pained look. "Dear, that rehab center we left usually only accommodates patients for a couple of weeks – a month at most. Your father's been there for four months."

"Well, he's been addicted for a long time," Lindy argued. Uncle John sighed at her comment.

"What?" she asked him.

"It's more than just being addicted – I think. There's something else that's happened to him. He's not ready to face the real world." He looked over again at his niece. "I'm sure he'll get there, Hon. You coming out to see him will definitely help."

The rest of the day spent with her uncle's family felt like a haze to Lindy. She watched them all together: her uncle, his wife Beth, her cousins, Jake and Alan, who were only a few years younger than her. They were nice enough people, generous to her and loving to one another. Their conversations at the dinner table were what would be considered typical: discussing their upcoming vacation and Jake's track meet and the strange time they had at a neighbor's recent barbecue.

They'd never had a truly dark moment in their entire lives. Lindy and her father's problems would be just a footnote in their existences: a cautionary tale told around the watercooler at her uncle's office, or a passing story about an unusual weekend spent with a screwed up cousin for Jake and Alan to tell their friends at school. It almost embarrassed Lindy to have people like these know about her troubles. They were her blood family, but in some ways they were more like the people that went to Buckston. It was just easier to keep them at arm's distance.

She went to bed early that night, citing exhaustion. But she lay there wide awake in the overly soft guest bed, thinking about her father. She worried about how her words she'd said to him had affected him – even though they had to be said. He'd always been…fragile to her. That was the word she'd been looking for: fragile. Four months in rehab, when the typical time was one month. What did the people there think of him – the doctors and the administrators, even the orderlies? Did they see his weakness the way she did?

She had to talk to him as soon as possible. She knew she couldn't go now; there were very strict rules on visiting times. But she couldn't wait too long. Finally she pushed herself out of bed and went downstairs to her uncle's office, where he was working in spite of it being a Sunday night. She convinced him to drive her to the rehab center on his way to work the next day – that would get her there before nine. He warned her that there would be no one to pick her up for several hours after that, but she didn't care. Transportation was the least of her worries.

She got back into bed, and thought of calling Kyle. By then it was nearing eleven; he'd probably still be awake. She wasn't sure if he'd even want to talk to her after the way things were left between them. She still didn't sleep for several hours, her mind running again and again over what she'd say to her father when she saw him. She picked out the words carefully, rehearsing them to herself and trying to prepare herself for any response he'd have. Finally, very close to dawn, she began to doze.

But her body wouldn't let her stay asleep. She knew she'd have to be up and ready for her uncle to take her to the rehab center. He certainly wouldn't wait around for her to get herself together, since he was already making a huge sacrifice by driving out of his usual way to work to take her. So she dragged herself out of bed, feeling exhausted, and quickly got herself ready.

Her uncle was still in the shower by the time she was ready. She could smell coffee percolating downstairs and hear the sounds of her aunt and cousins getting ready for the day. But she didn't want to join them. Instead, she picked up her phone and dialed Kyle, thinking nothing of the early hour.

Unlike her visit to her father, Lindy had no idea what she was going to say to Kyle. She listened to the phone ring with a pounding heart, each ring making her want to hang up the phone. Finally, his voicemail came on, and she noticed it had changed: "Hi, it's Kyle. Leave me a message and I'll call you right back."

She took a deep breath before she started. "Hi. It's-it's me. Um…I just wanted to let you know that I went to see my dad yesterday, and it went pretty well. He looks good." God, her words felt so empty. "I'm about to go back again and see him. And then…" She stopped. She stopped for a good couple of seconds, because something came to her. "And then, I'm coming home." Her voice threatened to crack, but she took a breath and kept going. This wasn't the way she wanted to tell him – not through a mere recorded message – but it had to be said at that moment, no exceptions. It had been building inside of her for too long.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry. You were right when you said I've been holding back. I have because….because I was mad at you for not telling me the truth about who you really were. I loved who you were. I loved Hunter. And after the spell broke, I…felt like I lost him. And I tried-really tried to tell myself that it was still you, but it was hard for me. But everything you've said and done, you've been trying to show me all this time that inside you're still the same person. I didn't see it until now. I'm sorry."

The tears were flowing now, but she just wiped them away and kept going. "Being away from you made me realize…that I never want to be away from you again. My life with you is the only home I've ever known. You're my family." She took another breath to calm herself. "So…I'm coming home today. If-if you get this in time, can you come and pick me up from the station?" She then told him about her planned schedule for leaving Long Island. She ended the call with, "I love you, Kyle. I love you so, so much."

There was a knock on the door right after her call ended. It was Uncle John. "Are you ready?" he asked her.

Lindy exhaled.


While all of this was happening, Lindy's father was making his own difficult decision. He didn't sleep that night either, the colorless sheets of his bed being more of a reminder of the terrible place he'd put himself in than any sort of soothing tool for slumber. The only thing that provided even a margin of solace was the cool metal of his wife's ring, wrapped about his pinky finger.

The windows of his room had gone from black to greyish-white, symbolizing the first light of day. It also symbolized that he'd made his decision. Creeping out of his bed, he tiptoed to the door and peered through the striated glass.

The hallway was empty, as he knew it would be. Being stuck in this center for the last four months had finally given him an advantage, as he knew the establishment's routine front and back. He glanced over at the puke-green clock on the far wall and calculated where everyone would be at that time. The other patients were asleep – or at least quietly waiting for breakfast hour. Winston, the Barbadian attendant that was assigned his wing at that time of day, was still at the front desk, flirting with Shaune, the receptionist. Dr. March, whose office was the closest to his room, was still at least twenty minutes away, since he commuted from New Rochelle and was not a morning person. It would be in this doctor's office, Lindy's father decided, that he would make the call.

Gingerly he opened the door to his room, padding softly the 50 paces to Dr. March's office. He shut his eyes in prayer that the Elliott March had kept up his typical pattern of forgetting to lock his door on Friday evenings due to his desperate urge to get out of the building and get to his regular poker game. As the knob turned in his hands, he exhaled gently and quickly slipped inside. His timing was perfect, as two seconds later, he could hear Winston rounding the corner, whistling "Tom Dooley." The attendant would start with the room the furthest up the hallway – Angela Parker's room – then work his way down, getting the patients up, giving them their schedules. That would probably give Lindy's father about fifteen minutes to do what he needed to do before Winston got to his room and realized he was gone.

He walked over to the doctor's desk, lowering himself slowly into the black leather office chair. Running his finger over the curved receiver of the phone, he allowed himself a moment to reconsider what he was doing. Then the moment was over and he seized the phone, forcing himself to conjure up the digits to dial.

The phone rang several times, and he worried that perhaps he got the number wrong, it had been so long. But then he heard the voice he was trying to reach. He'd never forget that voice.

"Hello?" it said in practically a monotone.

"It's-it's Taylor," he managed to stammer out.

There was a pregnant pause on the other line. "What do you want?" the voice finally asked, with no masking of its displeasure at hearing from him.

He rubbed his eyes. "I…need you to do something for me. It's important. And…I think you owe me." He hoped his voice sounded steadier than he felt.

Five minutes later, the conversation was over. He'd gotten what he wanted. He sat back in the chair and waited for the rehab's staff to find him. Shaune would have noticed at that point that someone had picked up the phone in Dr. March's office, and the "in use" light would have been on for too long for it to be just a fluke. Just a few minutes later, Winston would notice that he wasn't in his room. Eventually they'd find him – and it would begin.

He kissed the thin gold ring around his pinky and rested his head in his hands. He was thinking about Lindy. For once, he was thinking only of her.

The only way to save her was to break her heart.