model. She’s always looked up to me and, unfortunately, I haven’t always set the best example.
“What happened?” I ask her as she sits up straight in the mauve chair.
“She took too many of those pain pills the doctor gave her,” Molly replies.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Elaine leaning forward as if she’s going to get in on this conversation. She knows I won’t speak to her. I haven’t spoken to her in nine years. I don’t care if she thinks her presence here earns her Brownie points. There’s no good deed she can do that will ever make me think she is anything other than a selfish, depraved human being.
“Is she okay?” I ask, still unsure whether I want to take a seat next to Molly.
“Yeah. They know she wasn’t trying to commit suicide because they have her medical records, so we don’t have to wait for the psychiatrist to check her out. They’re just keeping her here for another few hours until her blood pressure comes back up, then we can take her home.”
“She needs someone to keep an eye on her.”
Elaine’s voice makes my skin prickle. Molly glances at her then back to me, foolishly wondering if I’m going to respond.
“I’m going to the cafeteria. You want to come with me?” I ask Molly and she nods as she stands from the chair.
After a long silence, punctuated by the occasional squeak of our sneakers against the shiny floor in the hospital corridors, Molly finally says something. And what she says makes me sick.
“I think you should talk to her.”
She doesn’t have to say her name for me to know she’s talking about Elaine. I pretend not to hear her, but she doesn’t give up.
“I’m serious. Do you want Grandma to die thinking that you never spoke to her again?”
“Don’t use Grandma in your emotional blackmail scheme.”
“You’re so selfish.”
I get a flash of pain in my chest at these words spoken from Molly’s lips. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m sorry,” she says as we turn into the cafeteria. Her face scrunches up as if she’s trying to keep from crying. “I’m just so scared of having to live with her.”
“That will never happen. Go sit down. I’ll get you something.”
She rolls her eyes as she heads for a table in the corner. I make my way through the cafeteria line behind two other bleary-eyed patrons. I grab a couple of turkey sandwiches from the refrigerator case and some juice. When I arrive at the table with my tray of food, Molly’s elbows are propped on the table and her face is buried in her hands.
“Eat your turkey dinner,” I order her, but she doesn’t move. Then I see the glistening puddle of tears on the surface of the table.
“She’s gonna die,” she whispers. “Why?”
“Because life fucking sucks.”
“Not the answer I wanted.”
“It’s the truth.” I unwrap the plastic wrap on her turkey sandwich and push the tray toward her. “You can’t expect anything good to last or you’ll always be disappointed. Everything dies.”
She groans as she wipes the tears from her eyes and looks up. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”
“You need to be prepared.”
“You need to talk to Elaine and tell her I’m going to live with you. She was blabbing to me in the waiting room about how nice her new apartment in Durham is.”
“Nice compared to what? A fucking cardboard box?”
“I don’t want to live with her. She said she has a new boyfriend.”
“You’re not going to live with her.”
I lean back in the uncomfortable steel chair and try not to think of what I’ll have to do to prevent Molly from being placed with Elaine. No one knows what Elaine is capable of except for me. Everyone thinks she’s just a drug addict with a long list of ex-boyfriends and STDs. If I have to tell everyone the kind of person she really is, I will do it – for Molly’s sake. I’ve never told anyone, not even Chris, about the summer before seventh grade.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out immediately. When I see the name on the screen, it’s as if the clouds have parted and shined a light on this tiny corner of the hospital cafeteria. Then I read the message and I resist the urge to throw my phone across the room.
Senia: Thanks for the kind message. Now kindly stop texting me. I’m not interested in being one of your concubines.
I probably don’t deserve anything better than this from Senia, but it still feels like a kick in the nuts right now. In any case, I don’t have it in me to chase her any more. It was sort of fun for the last twelve days to bug her with cheesy text messages, but it just feels stupid and pathetic now.
Me: Whatever you say.
Molly stands up and I grab her hand before she can leave. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go to the restroom. Want to join me?”
“You think that’s funny, but I actually—”
“Potty-trained me. I know. You’ve told me a million times. It’s gross.”
“Get out of here before I tell everyone in this cafeteria about the time you shit in Grandma’s flower pot.”
“There’s no one here.”
“Then I’ll write a song about it.”
“You haven’t written anything in years,” she mutters, then she walks away.
My phone vibrates again and a tremor of regret reverberates inside me for all the ways I haven’t been good enough for Molly. I must be such a fucking disappointment to her. I used to write songs for her all the time and I’d sing her to sleep. I stopped writing three years ago. It’s pointless. No one needs me to write songs. They need me to play my fucking instrument and bring the band the occasional bit of bad press.
I turn my phone over on the table to check the screen and this message brings the faintest hint of a smile to my lips.
Senia: Are you okay?
Me: No. I’m at the hospital.
Senia: What’s wrong?
I don’t have to tell her anything. Something tells me that Senia will probably come running to my side if I speak the right empty promises. But I really don’t feel like fucking her.
I just need to talk.
Me: Can I call you later?
She makes me wait a torturous forty minutes for her response. Molly is back from the restroom and seated across from me, using my phone to text her friends, but even Molly smiles when she sees the text message pop up on my screen.
Senia: Fine. But you’d better not tell me you’re pregnant.
Chapter Nine
Once the doctor releases Grandma, I help her to my car and Molly climbs into the backseat. Grandma’s blood pressure was still on the low side, so they asked us to keep a close eye on her and to make sure she gets plenty of rest.
“Molly will make the turkey tomorrow,” I assure her as she leans her head back and closes her eyes.
“The turkey’s been sitting there in that brine for too long. It’s no good any more,” she replies softly. “I’m sorry I screwed up. I just didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Grandma, why don’t you just try the chemo?”
“Because it won’t do a damn thing but make me sicker. I don’t want you two cleaning up my messes. I just want to go quietly.”
Molly sniffles loudly in the backseat and I resist the urge to look in the rearview mirror. I don’t want to see what this is doing to her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Grandma says, reaching into the backseat to comfort Molly. “I don’t mean to scare you.”
“Too late,” Molly grumbles. “Can you take me to Carissa’s?”
“No, you’re staying home with me and Grandma.”
She groans roughly, the sound garbled by the tears clogging her throat.
“Just take her to her friend’s house,” Grandma insists.
I crane my neck a little to get a look at Molly in the rearview mirror and I find her hugging her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. Normally,
I’d tell her to get her dirty shoes off my leather seats, but she doesn’t need that; she needs a friend.
After I drop her off at Carissa’s, Grandma and I arrive home a few minutes later and I’m overcome with a pang of guilt as I remember that I never brought Grandma the brown sugar or cider she asked for. I help her out of the car, though she keeps insisting I stop all this fussing over her.
By the time she’s taken a bath and slid under her covers, I’ve cleaned up all the half-prepared food in the kitchen and refrigerator – to purge the house of all reminders. Then I sit back on the sofa and sigh. This is it. The moment I’ve been looking forward to and dreading all day.
I haven’t had a conversation with a girl, on the phone, for … years. I’m not sure what possessed me to ask Senia if I could call her. All I know is that I want to hear her voice. Just the thought of needing anything – anyone – like this is terrifying.
“You are going to hate me,” she says.
This is not the greeting I expected when I dialed her number, but I’m intrigued. “Why am I going to hate you?”
I half-expect her to tell me that she doesn’t have time to talk or that, on second thought, she really does want me to stop texting her. But the two words she whispers next make my balls shoot straight into my throat.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What the fuck? Is this a joke?”
“I wish.”
These two words catch me even more off guard, then it hits me. “Wait a minute. If you’re pregnant, why did you tell me to stop texting you?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know when I sent you that text message. But then I got sick a couple of hours later, and I knew something was wrong. Thanksgiving is my holiday! I can eat an entire pumpkin pie and not get sick. I was made for this day. Then I realized I’m two days late. I’m so lucky Claire’s gone for the night. She can’t know anything about this.”
“Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Do you keep pregnancy tests on hand for this sort of thing?”
She clears her throat nervously. “Um, yes. You don’t want to know what I have in my goodie drawer.”
I chuckle. “Actually, I think I do want to know. I want to know very badly.”
“Shut up. This is serious shit. I’m pregnant!” She whisper-shouts the last two words and this makes me smile.
I’ve never gotten anyone pregnant. Before I found out about Grandma a few weeks ago, I was always extremely careful not to become reckless like Elaine. I suppose I should be disappointed in myself, but I can’t help feeling a sense of pride for my little swimmers. They did their job on the very first try, as if they’d been training for this performance all their lives. Well, I guess they have had lots of practice.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask. I think that’s what I’m supposed to ask. I don’t think telling her to get an abortion is the way these things are handled, but I doubt either one of us is ready for a baby.
Then an evil but brilliant idea flashes in my mind. I immediately try to push it out, but it keeps nagging and poking me as I wait for Senia’s response.
“I don’t know.”
Crap. She’s crying.
“I’m not trying to tell you to get rid of it,” I insist.
She chuckles. “Yeah, like you want to have a kid. You’d probably rather get cancer.”
I can’t even move my lips to form a response to cover up what I’m feeling right now. She had no way of knowing what she just said would affect me so deeply, but she can sense something in my silence.
“I’m sorry. That was a real jerk thing to say considering I have no idea why you were at the hospital today.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. My grandma … She has stage-four breast cancer.”
“Oh, no. And I was telling you to stop texting me and now I’m calling you to tell you I’m pregnant. Oh God. I feel so selfish. I’m so sorry.”
She starts crying again and I get a strange urge to kiss her tears, to taste them the way I did before.
“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know. But I have a way you can make it up to me.” She groans and I laugh. “Not sexual favors. I was kind of hoping you might want to come hang out for a little while. My sister’s gone so I have to stay here to keep an eye on my grandma. It’s kind of lonely.”
Did I really just say, It’s kind of lonely? What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Did you just tell me you’re lonely?”
“You know you want to come over,” I say, trying to recover a bit of my dignity.
She sighs before she responds and the sound of her breath in my ear gives me goosebumps. “Text me the address.”
Chapter Ten
I hear her car pull up outside – not that I’m listening for it. I immediately click off the TV show I’m watching about man caves and leap off the sofa. When I open the front door, Senia’s walking up the path in a sapphire-blue dress that hugs her curves, a black trench coat and black heels.
“Did you get dressed up to come here?” I ask with a grin and she rolls her eyes.
“Well, I wasn’t lying in bed in a fucking trench coat and heels, but I was wearing this dress. I always wear dresses. You know that.”
I do know that, yet, even with the easy access of simply pulling up her dress, this didn’t make it easy enough for us to hook up until last week; until she was wearing a skirt. Maybe the dresses are a curse. I should rip it off her right now to find out.
Settle down, Tristan.
When she steps inside the house, I find myself feeling a bit self-conscious. The house looks fine. It’s pretty tiny, but it’s completely remodeled. I can’t remember if Senia has ever been here, but I don’t want to admit this.
“It looks different,” she says as she looks around. “I guess you and Chris really took care of your families after you hit the big time. What’s that like?”
“What’s what like?”
She turns to me and fixes me with a worried stare. “Having a family to take care of?”
Her words stop me cold. “I never really thought of it that way. I just do it because it’s my job and … and I love them.”
She shakes her head as she looks away. “I’ve never had to take care of anyone. Even when Sophie was a baby, my parents never made me change diapers or babysit. My older sisters did that. I don’t know how to act like a mother, much less be one.”
“You want to take off that coat?” I ask as I shut the front door.
“I’m fine. I can’t stay too long. I just wanted to talk about … you know.”
“Sit down,” I say, placing my hand on her back to guide her toward the sofa. As soon as I feel the coolness of her coat under my hand, a worried thought crosses my mind. “Is this coat warm enough for the snow? Snow season starts in a few weeks. Do you need another coat?”
She takes a seat on the sofa and looks up at me as if I’m an alien. “I have other coats, thanks.”
I sit next to her and chuckle as she scoots a few inches away from me. “Are you afraid of being close to me?”
“Yes.”
“I can keep my hands to myself. You sure you don’t want to take that off?” I ask, giving her sleeve a soft tug.
“I thought you said you could keep your hands to yourself.”
“I didn’t touch you. I touched your coat.”
She narrows her eyes at me and leans back to get more comfortable. “Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”
“You can’t drink in your condition.”
“Why, yes, I’d love a glass of water. Thank you.”
I smile as I make my way into the kitchen and take a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I head for the refrigerator to get some water from the door, but the sound of the house phone stops me. I hurry back to the living room to grab the phone off the receiver. I don’t want the ringing to wake up Grandma.
“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Carissa’s mother. I’d like to speak to Molly’s mother or father. Are they ho
me?”
“This is her brother. What happened to Molly?”
“I really think I should speak to her parents.”
“They’re not here,” I snarl. “Where’s Molly?”
“Well, that figures. Molly is in Carissa’s bedroom … drunk. Somebody needs to come pick her up.”
“I’ll be there. What’s the address?”
Carissa’s mother hangs up after she gives me the address and I stare at the phone for a moment, in shock.
“What’s wrong?” Senia says, reaching for the empty glass I set down on the coffee table in front of her.
“My sister Molly’s drunk. I have to go pick her up.”
“Drunk? Isn’t she, like, ten?”
“She’s thirteen.” I toss the phone onto the sofa and she quickly stands up.