September 16, Wednesday
THE CALL connected a few seconds late, the video stuttering into focus on Lily's face already mid-sentence, already furious.
"—and it's insane, Mom. It's actually insane that we can't just tell people the truth."
"Hi to you too," I said, trying for lightness.
"Scott's mom cornered me at pickup and asked, and I quote, 'Is everything okay at home?
Is your mother getting the help she needs?
'" Lily's voice climbed with each word. "Help she needs.
Like you're in some facility somewhere. People think you're in rehab, Mom.
Rehab! Or worse—Madison Kapp literally asked if you had a drug problem. "
Josh sat beside her on the couch, hunched forward, gnawing on his thumbnail. He didn't look up.
"I'm so sorry," I said, and meant it, the apology feeling thin and useless even as I offered it. "I realize the not-knowing makes people fill in the blanks with whatever's easiest to believe."
"Do you know what it's like at school right now? People look at me different. Like I'm the kid whose mom disappeared."
"Lily, this is temporary. Once the trial ends—"
"When is that? Nobody knows! It's been forever already." She crossed her arms. "You could've said no. You could've gotten out of it like everyone else did."
I let that one pass, unwilling to relitigate a decision that was already six weeks behind me and impossible to undo. "How's school going otherwise? Josh, are you liking your classes this year?"
Silence. Josh's teeth worked at his cuticle, his eyes fixed somewhere past the camera.
"Josh?"
Nothing.
"And soccer, are you still—"
"Can we not do small talk?" Lily cut in. "It's weird pretending everything's normal when it's not."
"I'm not pretending. I'm trying to stay connected to your lives, even from here."
"Fine. Josh, tell her about Tucker," Lily said, flat, almost daring him.
Josh finally lifted his head. "He's fine. I've been letting him sleep in my room."
"That's sweet, honey." Something in my chest loosened, just slightly, at the image of my son and the dog curled up together in the dark.
"You'd need a gas mask to go in there," Lily said. "It smells like feet and wet fur. He never opens his window."
"I do too," Josh muttered, the first real defensiveness I'd heard from him all call.
I tried to steer us somewhere steadier. "I know it's a lot to manage. I put that chore chart on the fridge before I left—maybe you two could split things up between you, just until I'm home. Even a little bit would help."
Lily's face changed instantly, the flatness cracking into something harder. "So now we're supposed to just do your whole job? While you're what, getting room service and watching movies in a hotel?"
"That's not remotely what this is."
"Dad says it is." Her voice had gone brittle, close to breaking in a direction I couldn't predict. "You left. You get to sit in your little bubble away from all of this, and we're supposed to hold everything together and smile about it."
"Lily, that's not fair, and it's not true. And I won't let you speak to me that way."
"Are you going to ground me through a screen?"
Josh stood abruptly, mumbled something I didn't catch, and walked out of frame without looking back.
"Josh—" I started, but he was already gone, a door closing off camera.
Lily stared at me a moment longer, unreadable, then reached toward the laptop. "Buh-bye," she said, and the screen went black before I could answer.
I sat there for a few seconds, turning over the sick certainty that whatever version of my family existed on the other side of this trial might not resemble the one I'd left behind.
In a bad way.