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It was with a strange numbness that Shelly walked down the stairs of the hospital. She was free, yet somehow mourning her former self, Mrs. Shelly Johnson.
For years, Shelly had possessed two faces. There was that of Shelly the waitress, who was cheeky, irreverent, and all the thing she couldn’t be at home. There was Shelly the wife, who tried to do all the things Leo expected of her. Sometimes the other Shelly leaked out and sported the bruises to show it.
The words ‘battered wife syndrome’ didn’t mean much to her, even though she was the woman described by it. She didn’t feel like the victim, even though she was terrified of her husband. After all, she was sneaking around behind his back, having an affair and spying on him. It was more like she was playing with fire.
Leo was the fire, as he’d always been, since he’d first driven up in his sports car. A part of her brain had always acknowledged him as being dangerous, that there would be a price for getting involved with such a man. She was paying the price. The only difference was she no longer loved him.
Shelly sighed, annoyed with how pathetic she was.
How cool it would be to be someone like Catherine Martell, who could be calm and collected, even as a building fell down around her. She ought to be grateful to the Packard matriarch, for saving her life, even when she had better things to. Instead, she felt annoyed. If only she’d done something that cool.
This feeling would pass, never developing into strength. As soon as a crisis struck, she’d be leaning on Bobby, or someone else.
Before she knew it, Shelly’s hand was spasming, with unexpressed anger. Damn.
“Are you all right?” The voice was husky, feminine, and entirely too sexy.
Shelly looked in the direction of the voice and found herself looking right into the sun. It coming through the door, flooding the hall at the bottom of the stairs.
A woman was standing between her and the exit, a woman wearing sunglasses. For one terrified moment, Shelly thought it was Laura Palmer.
The woman took a step forward, revealing a head covered with thick, chestnut hair, full and bouncing off her shoulders. Her face was narrower than Laura’s, with the perfection of an angel’s from an old painting.
“Donna,” Shelly breathed, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Of course. Your father said you’d be waiting to take me home.”
“Don’t you want to go home?” Donna asked. She looked completely different, without the bobbed hair and baggy sweater.
There was an old film star glamour about the young woman with the new hairdo, the sunglasses, and her tight fitting jacket, sweater, and skirt. Even so, she seemed so nice, even with her new look.
Donna Hayward had always seemed like a nice girl, unlike her best friend. Laura was like Shelly, in that her ‘nice girl act’ was nothing more than a mask. It was probably mean to make fun of someone else’s funeral, but Laura seemed to bring the meanness out of Shelly.
“No one is waiting for me at home,” Shelly said, ashamed at the sadness of her own words.
Why was she sad? Last she’d seen Leo, he’d tried to kill her!
Even if her home was empty of the terror, it was still empty.
“Why don’t I take you to the RR?” Donna asked. “You can sit, have a coffee, enjoy being waited on for a change.” A hesitant smile touched the girl’s lips. It was much more like the old Donna.
“How did you know I wanted to go to the RR?” Shelly thought, before realizing she was speaking out loud. Uncomfortable, she looked down at her throbbing hand.
“I’m taking you home, aren’t I?” Donna asked. Her smile grew a little less hesitant, as she peered over the edge of her sunglasses.
Shelly froze. Once more, she got the strangest impression that Laura Palmer was looking back at her, wearing that annoying little smile she’d worn too often. The smile that said she knew a secret, the secret you thought no one would ever guess.
“I’m in no hurry, though,” Donna said. Her smile faded a bit, becoming anxious. She was just Donna Hayward again. The ghost of Laura Palmer, which had been clinging to her, had released her grip. “We can stop along the way, if you don’t want to go home to an empty house.”
“The RR is home,” Shelly said. Her chin raised with something almost like pride, as she looked Donna straight in the eye.
She wasn’t ashamed to admit it, even to whatever sly ghosts were listening. No matter how ashamed Shelly might be about her conflicted feelings for Leo, or Bobby, she was proud of being a waitress at the RR. Proud of being a waitress. Many of the girls in high school would have laughed at her. Shelly didn’t care. Norma was worth the lot of them. Plus, the RR had always been her safe spot, even when Leo’s house terrified her. “I’m going home.”
Donna didn’t say anything. She just pushed her sunglasses back over the bridge of her nose and nodded.
The two women headed for the exit of the hospital. The light grew brighter, as sunlight crept under the door, as if welcoming them outside.