Chapter 24 Audrey #2
“About that . . .” Stephen says. He pauses, then pulls out a chair and sits next to me. “I was going to bring this up later, but maybe this is the perfect time.” His face is serious, and he covers my hand with his. “Audrey, did you ever wonder if Mom had it too?”
“Had what?” I ask.
“Early-onset dementia.”
“Mom didn’t have dementia,” I say. “Why would you think that? That’s crazy.” My voice is shrill, and Gracie nudges my hand, braving Mr. Littlejeans to reassure me.
Stephen opens his mouth, then closes it, then finally speaks. “She might not have been diagnosed, but . . . remember how she was kind of different those last few months? Not herself?”
“Because I was going to college, and she was sad,” I say. Mom did not have dementia.
“But she didn’t want to talk as much, or play games on Sunday nights, and she got really clumsy, which she never was before. She broke that vase she got in Venice. Spilled red wine on the couch. That kind of thing.” He’s going slowly, making sure I catch every word.
“But she didn’t . . . She wasn’t . . . like me,” I say.
Memories flash in front of my eyes like a slot machine.
Mom yelling at me to hurry up when we were going shopping for my dorm room stuff.
How she told Mr. Lewis at the antiques store that I was about to start high school, then seemed so confused when I corrected her. She said it was menopause.
I thought my symptoms were menopause, too.
“Did any of you notice anything with her?” Stephen asks, looking at the others.
“Um . . . you know, I do remember one night,” Beck says slowly.
“We all came over for dinner, and she said something like, ‘What the hell are you all doing here?’ I thought she was kidding, but she gave me this look.” Beck pushes back her hair.
“Usually, she was always glad to have us, but not that day.”
“I can’t say I remember anything odd,” Micah says.
“Didn’t she leave in the middle of the spring concert?” Jasmine asks. “I just remember it because it was so out of character. She seemed . . . angry.”
“She probably had an emergency,” I say, but now I remember that day, too. Mom had pushed past the parents who’d come in late and were standing near the door. Angry, like Jasmine said. Did that actually happen? My own memory can’t be trusted.
Stephen squeezes my hand. “I started to tell you last night, Auds, but I went to visit Jane Friedman, the nurse who worked with her all those years. Remember her?” I nod.
We loved Nurse Jane because she kept Hershey’s Kisses in her drawer and gave us some on the sly when we visited the office.
“We got to talking about Mom, and I asked her some questions.” He pauses.
“Jane said that in the last six months of her life, Mom had been slipping up, forgetting things, getting overwhelmed. She started checking Mom’s notes and prescriptions and found some things that were off.
Fifty milligrams instead of five hundred, that kind of thing.
She thought Mom was just stressed or tired, but .
. . with your situation, Auds . . .” He trails off, glancing at Beck, Jasmine and Micah, who are laser focused on his words.
Foreboding prickles my skin in a wave. “I . . . I . . . What are you trying to say?” I ask.
“The night of the accident,” Stephen went on, his voice low and careful, “she was really agitated. It was early, like ten o’clock, but she was pacing the floor. Dad kept telling her to settle down, and they fought a little. Which was rare.” He pauses. “She called him a dick.”
“What?” I exclaim. “She never used words like that.”
“I know,” he says. “She was really worried about you, and Dad kept saying it was a graduation party and you weren’t even out past your curfew.
I went to bed, but I woke up when I heard them fighting again.
It was just after one. I went downstairs, right as Mom walked out the door.
I asked Dad what was going on, and he said she was just worried about you girls.
She drove away so fast that gravel hit the window.
Dad and I just looked at each other, and he said best to just let her do her mother-hen thing.
” His eyes grow shiny. “The car fishtailed on the way down the driveway.”
Silence falls over the table. Jasmine bites her thumbnail. Beck rubs her leg. Micah’s eyes are too wide.
If—and I do mean if—Mom had what I have, that would explain those mood swings, long tucked away in my mind.
Her irritability. The time she cooked a chicken until it was black and set it on the table and told us to dig in.
We thought it was a joke. The hot summer day when she came downstairs in her parka, then seemed confused that it wasn’t cold outside.
She tried to laugh it off, but now . . .
now I remember the confusion on her face as she tried to smile.
I’ve seen that look on my own face a lot lately.
“So . . . so maybe Mom had a hand in the accident, is that what you’re saying, Stephen?” I ask, my voice shaking. “That she was the one at fault, not us?”
He takes a deep breath. “I can’t say for sure. I wasn’t there. But given what Nurse Jane said, and some of the things I’ve remembered about that night . . . Maybe there’s a police report that could spell it out more clearly. I don’t remember.”
“Call Dad,” I order.
“Okay.” He gets up and leaves the room, and I hear him say, “Hey, Dad,” as he shuts the door to the den.
Micah, Beck, Jasmine and I look at each other. On impulse, I reach out and grab Jasmine’s and Beck’s hands, and Jasmine and Beck grab Micah’s, so we’re sitting there like we’re having a séance. Which, in a way, we are.
The song from Moulin Rouge. Beck singing along, Jasmine laughing, Micah passed out, me stoned. I remember the lights of the other car, how fast it seemed to come at us. My heart is pounding, my head is light. Micah closes her eyes.
Stephen comes back in. “Dad said the police ruled it a no-fault accident. There were no skid marks. The police saw a car full of girls coming from a party where there was alcohol and weed and chalked it up to that and an inexperienced driver. But Mom was speeding, and she didn’t hit the brakes, which was why the impact was so . . . severe.”
There’s a moment of silence, the only sound the slight jingle of Gracie’s dog tags and a hiss from Mr. Littlejeans. The Core Four look at each other. It’s as if we have one heart in this moment, and it’s trembling.
“So,” my brother says slowly, “it’s possible she caused the accident. Not you guys. It’s more than possible.”
No one says anything. Then Micah bursts into sobs, and Jasmine wraps her arms around her, crying, too. Beck and I look at each other, and I reach out to take her hand. Beck, who lost her future because of that accident. My mother took that away from her.
“Beck, I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
“I . . . No. No. Your mom gave me so much,” she says, reading my mind.
A tear runs down her cheek. “I’m not ever going to blame Dr. Kate.
She was so good to me. To all of us. The last thing she ever would’ve done was hurt us.
And you . . . you saved my life that night, Audrey. I’m here because of you.”