Chapter Seven #2
As the evening wore down, Jen caught Arden’s eye.
“Parting gifts.” Arden brought out a bottle of champagne. “For you to open on your first night in your new home. To toast yourselves, your new beginning, and of course, your incredible family back east.”
“A candle”—April set the large stained-glass jar on the counter—“I made specifically for you to light your new home, your new memories.”
“Cuttings, ready to plant, from the peonies you love. Something from your home here to your home there.” Jen put the bag with the other gifts. “We love you.”
Zoey started to speak, then just buried her face against Boone’s chest.
“You have to know.” He stopped, let out a breath, swallowed. “How much we love you back. How much we’ll miss you.”
“Mom.” Zoey pulled away to wrap around her mother. “I love you so much, love you all so much.”
“You’ll call the minute you land in Oregon.” Jen drew Zoey’s face up, kissed her cheeks.
“Promise. I’ll call so much you’ll get sick of me.”
Laughing, Jen kissed her again. “That hasn’t happened in twenty-five years.”
“We’re proud of you. Both of you.” Doug opened his arms, took his daughter in. “And you know, if you need something fixed, I make house calls.”
“Careful,” Boone said, “we could hold you to that.”
“We want to see all the ultrasound pictures of the baby.” Sniffling, Zoey hugged April. “And weekly pictures of the bump. Promise.”
“Consider it done.”
Blinking at tears, Zoey turned to Travis. “I’ll probably miss you, you jerk.”
“I might miss you, pest.”
“Arden, God, I’m going to ugly cry! No, I’m not. But I’m going to text you multiple times a day.”
With Zoey in her arms, Arden laughed. “Which means nothing changes.”
“Look out for them for me,” Zoey murmured in her ear, then pulled back. “Don’t think you can get another best friend just because I’m a couple thousand miles away. I’m it, and don’t forget it.”
“Same goes.”
Arden cried a little, and cried more when she got back to her apartment. Then her phone signaled a text.
Consider this the interim continuation of multiple texts a day.
So she followed another of Dr. Wren’s suggestions, and laughed.
When she didn’t feel compelled to lock the bedroom door that night, Arden thought of it as family healing.
In the morning, she talked herself out of the apartment and aimed for the gym. Maybe she’d go in, maybe she wouldn’t, but she’d take that direction.
So she put on her workout gear, and since her hair had grown enough, she tied it back. Awkward length now, she thought, needed a trim, some styling.
But she couldn’t begin to face going to the salon.
Tie it back, she thought. Let it grow.
She grabbed a ball cap as she went out.
On the way, she saw Mr. Grassley and Jimbo.
“Arden! Looking good, and good to see you.”
“Feeling good.” So far. She bent to pet the dog, offer the treat. “He didn’t forget me.”
“’Course not.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “We’re both glad to see you. Is it a bookstore day?”
“Not today.” Soon, she promised herself.
“Well, enjoy your workout.”
“Thanks.”
She kept walking. Nerves bubbled up as she approached the fitness center, but she told herself she could handle them. Would handle them, and took a moment to visualize herself doing circuits on the machines, taking the yoga class.
Normal, normal, normal.
And reminded herself she could walk out anytime she wanted or needed.
She went in.
“Arden!” The woman on the desk radiated smiles as she clapped her hands together. “We’ve missed you around here.”
The pressure on her chest released a little. “I’ve missed being around here.”
The truth of that helped her regain her inner quiet.
She paced herself through her circuits, used the music she’d programmed to keep her steady and calm. Steady and calm enough she tried her yoga class, where she again felt welcomed back.
Flushed with success, she checked the time. The bookstore wouldn’t be open yet, but someone would be in there, getting the coffee going, checking emails, completing the daily opening routine.
Using one of the recommended breathing techniques, she crossed the street. If they still wanted her, she’d get back on the schedule. She could try. If she found she wasn’t ready, she’d step back again.
They weren’t just coworkers but friends. They’d been there for her—sending flowers, food, calling, texting, dropping by.
She wasn’t walking into a group of strangers or desperate for a job. She wanted to see her friends and reconnect.
So she visualized that as she walked up to the door.
She peeked through the glass, then tapped on it.
At the checkout desk, Cassie looked over. Her face lit, her hands flew up, and she rushed to the door.
Before Arden could speak, she was enfolded, squeezed, bounced.
“Tell me you’re coming back! We miss you. Oh, you look good. You’ve been to the gym. How do you feel? Terri should be here any minute. She hired another part-timer to fill in, but oh, Jesus, major fail. Who knew? Anyway, didn’t last two weeks. Let me fix you a latte.”
“I’ll fix it. Make sure I haven’t lost my touch.” She walked to the coffee station. “I know I thanked you for the flowers, the brownies, Terri’s homemade lasagna, and everything. I just want to thank you again for looking out for me when I was down.”
“We were worried about you, and so damn angry for you. That fuck-faced prick.”
Eyebrow lifted, Arden looked over. “That’s some mouth this morning.”
Cassie shot a finger at the Closed sign.
“We’re not open yet, so I’m getting any fuck-faced-prick comments out. You really do look good. You look like yourself, and that’s good.”
“I’m feeling like myself. Or more like me.” The scent of coffee, of books, of Cassie’s spring-in-the-garden scent, the sound of the machine frothing milk all added up to the more like her.
“You’ve been writing, right? The last time we talked, you said that was going really well.”
“Yeah. It’s … It’s my safe place. Outside of that, I’ve been feeling nervous, anxious, out of myself. Too much. And with Zoey leaving … Their plane’s about to take off.”
Sympathy covered Cassie’s pretty face. “I know you’ll miss her something fierce.”
“I will. I already do. But I need to pick up my own life. Can’t let the fuck-faced prick win, right?”
“Damn right.”
When she heard the back door to the store open, Arden’s breath hitched.
“There’s Terri now! Terri! Look who’s here.”
“The dog puked on the rug, and I barely got out before … Arden!”
Welcome came again to quiet the nerves. Ten minutes later, as the store opened for the day, she was back on the schedule.
As she walked home, Zoey sent a text.
Taking off and heading west. Send good vibes our way. Love you!
Vibes heading up and streaming west along with you. Be happy.
She added a trio of heart emojis.
A good day, Arden decided. And a kind of new beginning for her, too.
It took two weeks in the hellhole before his mother visited. They told him that was protocol, but Dustin knew it for more bullshit.
But he’d just smiled and said he looked forward to seeing her when she could come.
He was in the long game now.
So here she was, with her perfect hair and quiet suit. She didn’t have to shower in some echoing tank, with a guard practically under the water—not hot enough either—with him. She didn’t have to wear cheap pants, a crap shirt, shoes without laces.
The visitor’s lounge? More bullshit. No security glass like jail. A couple of hard chairs, and no privacy with guards close by.
When she hugged him, he imagined plowing his fist into her stomach—and that fist held a long, jagged knife—but he just patted her back.
“Macaroons,” she said, smiling as she picked up a box. “They said you could have them. I know they’re a favorite.”
Cookies, for God’s sake. The best she could do was buy him cookies.
“Thanks, Mom. These’ll be a treat. The food’s okay here, just not what I’m used to.”
“But you look well, Dustin. How do you feel?”
“I don’t want to be here.” That smashed the smile from her face. “Nobody does. Maybe I did something wrong, but I couldn’t help it. If I couldn’t help it, it wasn’t my fault, right?”
“You’re here to get treatment so you will be able to help it.”
“I know that, just like I know this isn’t the right place for me. I think I’d be better if I could go somewhere else. Like back to the rehab center from when I was a teenager. You know, where I could walk outside, or play games, watch TV.”
He tried the practiced puppy dog eyes.
“Jesus, Mom, I can’t even shower in private here—it’s so humiliating. And I can’t have a computer here. I really need one.”
Theresa took his hand, gripped it in both of hers.
Looking down at them, all he could see was the flash of diamonds, the gleam of the emerald.
Symbols, he thought, of her betrayal of their family.
“I know it’s not easy, Dustin. I think they said you’d be able to use one of the computers here after a while, and you can earn other privileges.”
“Right. But I don’t belong here, so you need to get me moved somewhere better.”
“I can’t. The judge—”
“Mom.” God, she was an idiot. He kept his smile on, used his patient voice.
“Come on now. You just pay him to change it, that’s all.
I can do the stupid therapy, do the circle talk crap and all that.
I don’t want to do it here. If you can’t fix it, tell Dad to deal with it. You got me into this pit.”
She’d hoped, how she’d hoped, to see some progress after these two weeks. They’d warned her not to expect it, but still she’d hoped.
She wanted to stroke his hair, urge him to be patient, tell him it would get better. But knew from the look in his eyes, he’d just slap her hand aside.
“Dustin, this isn’t something we can fix or change. There was only this, or a trial and prison. You’ll earn privileges as you go, and—”
“Fuck that.” He said it softly, for her alone. “You need to make this right.”
Slowly, pain in her eyes, she drew her hands away.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do. Even if there were, I feel this is right. I’m going to visit as often as possible. In fact, I’m buying a house nearby so I have somewhere to stay when I come see you. You can live there after your release for as long as you need or want.”
“You’ve got a house, and I get a cell. Yeah, that’s fair.”
She, too, spoke softly. The pain in her eyes echoed in her voice.
“I didn’t put a woman in the hospital.”
He leaned forward. “She asked for it. Now I’m telling you, fix this mess you got me into. It’s unacceptable. If you can’t or won’t fix it, just fuck off.”
She rose. Theresa had promised herself, and promised her husband, she’d hold firm this time.
“I hope you’ll get the help you need. I’m your mother, and I love you. I’ll visit as often as possible. If there’s something you want that I’m allowed to bring, you only have to ask. I’ll be back next week.”
Goddamn it, he needed her. So he brought on tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t leave me. I didn’t mean it. I’m just scared. I’m so scared, Mom.”
She did exactly what he’d known she’d do. She came to him, knelt down, and folded him in. Stroked his hair while he wept on her shoulder.
“They make me take medicine, Mom! And I don’t know anybody. I’m alone, and locked in that awful room. Sometimes I hear people screaming. I don’t know what they’re going to do to me. I didn’t mean all those things, but I’m just so scared. Don’t leave me here alone.”
“I know you’re scared. I know how hard this is for you. But it’s going to be all right,” she murmured. “I promise this is the best place for you right now. It’s going to take time, baby, but it’s going to be all right. You’ll be safe here. You’ll get better here.”
While he clung to her, he imagined throttling her.
One day, he would.