Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
CORRINE
“It’s a brave thing you did.”
She was nice to me. She walked me to my car on the lowest level of the parking garage. She didn’t have to do that. She had hooded eyelids that swallowed her eyes when she smiled. Her auburn hair was helmeted in spray, but it smelled good. She was probably someone’s grandmother.
“I don’t feel very brave,” I said. “I feel embarrassed.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t be. They’re grateful that you came today. They know you didn’t have to. People like you are the only way things like this ever get solved.” She lingered as I unlocked my door. “Honey?” she asked.
Belinda Humphrey. Her ID badge swung between her breasts. It was an old photo. Her hair was long.
“Are you sure I can’t call someone for you?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “Thank you for everything.”
“There are people,” she said. “Victims’ groups. You don’t have to be alone if this thing goes to trial. If you’re called as a witness.”
A stab of panic went through me. I couldn’t think that far ahead. I think she read what I was thinking. Maybe my color changed.
“You just go home and drive safely,” Belinda said. “You have Detective Dennison and Ms. Sobel’s cards? You call them if you have any questions or need something. They don’t just say that to say it. I’ve worked with both of them for a very long time. They’ll help you through this, honey.”
She took a step and gave me a quick hug. It felt good. It had been a very long time since someone had shown me random kindness like that. She stood waving as I pulled out of my parking space and started the hour drive home.
I made just one stop, needing gas. As I walked into the convenience store, I caught myself on the security camera overhead.
I almost didn’t recognize myself. Who was this person in a pressed linen dress and white sweater?
I walked up to the counter, paid for my gas, and asked the clerk for one more thing. She helpfully got it and rang me out.
It was only seven by the time I got home. I felt like I’d had an anvil dropped on my head. I’d done the right thing. It had to be the right thing. I closed the door, locked it, and tried to shut out the day.
“Corrine?” I heard my name under a blanket of clouds. Impossibly, it sounded like my mother’s voice. Cold. Distant. Persistent. But I was warm. I was safe. I just wanted her to go away.
“Cor!”
She shook me violently. The light felt like tiny forks stabbing me in the eyes.
“Stop it,” I croaked.
“Corrine! Get up.”
Sylvie grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me upright. The room spun. I was on the floor between my couch and coffee table.
Sylvie knelt down in front of me, her eyes full of fear and anger. She shook me again, then hooked her hands under my armpits and pulled me onto the couch.
“Don’t move!” she demanded. No chance of that. I had no bones. I listed sideways, reaching for the pillow.
“I said don’t move!” Sylvie yelled. She was at my kitchen sink, pouring water into the glass. The sound was harsh, violating. She came back and sat on the table. She hooked one hand behind my neck and brought the glass of water to my lips.
“Stop it,” I said, pushing her away.
“Drink it,” she demanded, then put two white pills in my palm. “Take them.”
Glaring at her, I downed the Tylenol tablets and gulped the water. Some of it dribbled down my chin and I wiped it with the back of my hand. She grabbed the glass from me before I could slam it down.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
She reared back. “It’s four o’clock.”
I looked around. In the morning?
“PM!” she shouted.
“What?”
Sylvie vaulted off the table and stood at the end of the couch, hands on her hips.
“You were supposed to be downstairs helping PJ open four hours ago.”
“So why are you here?”
“Are you serious with me right now? I don’t know what’s going on with you. No, that’s not even it. I know what’s going on with you.”
She reached down and picked up the bottle of vodka I’d grabbed from the gas station… yesterday, I guess. She turned it upside down and shook it. A single drop came out. Sylvie threw the bottle onto the chair in the corner.
“Was this full?” she asked, then answered her own question. There was a paper bag on the counter. She grabbed it and pulled out my receipt. When she turned back to me, her expression changed.
“Corrine,” she said. “What’s wrong with you this time?”
“Nothing.” I turned away from her and stared at my blank television.
“It’s never nothing with you. You think I don’t know what this is? PJ’s been covering for you for weeks. Every time I asked him if you were showing up on time, he’d find a way not to answer me.”
“That’s between PJ and me then.”
“Cor, please. Look at me.”
I wouldn’t.
“Look. At. Me.”
She forced the issue, sliding over to the table in front of me again.
“Just tell me,” she said. “Is it him?”
It felt like all my blood turned to acid.
Him.
“Are you seeing him again?” she asked. “Just tell me the truth.”
I closed my eyes. I knew it was a childish evasion, but she wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Corrine.” This time, my name choked out of her.
“Will you just go away?” She was too late with the Tylenol. The headache came slamming behind my left eye.
“You don’t even have to answer,” she said, sounding defeated. “I know this song by heart.”
“It’s my life,” I whispered.
“Really? Who’s been here to clean up after you? To pick you up off the floor. Making sure you eat. Making sure you take a shower and get dressed. Have you been checking in with him? Where’s your phone?”
“Stop it!”
“I want to see. Has he called you?”
I wouldn’t answer her. She got up and started ransacking the apartment, throwing drawers open, flipping pillows off the chairs.
“Stop it!” I shouted.
“I want to see your phone!”
“Here!” I said. I saw the corner sticking out from under the couch. I unlocked the screen and threw the thing at my sister.
She caught it. She held it in front of her for a moment as I dared her to go through it. She didn’t though. Instead, she slammed it onto the kitchen counter beside her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I sound like a crazy person even to myself.”
I crawled back to the couch and curled into a fetal position. My head was pounding in earnest now. My sister poured me another glass of water and brought it to me.
“Keep drinking,” she said. “You’re dehydrated.”
“No kidding.”
“I knew this was where we’d end up,” she said.
“There’s no we. It’s just me. My life.”
“Not when you’re staying here for free. Not when you have responsibilities to the family.”
I opened one eye. “You really want to go there? You wanna talk about my responsibilities? What about yours? What about PJs?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“You’re damn right I am.”
“And you’ve been going down rabbit holes with the police.
I told you nothing good would come of it.
I knew it was going to send you right back to the literal floor, Corrine.
You made promises to me. To PJ. He didn’t want to come up here.
Did you know that? He wants me to deal with everything. Like I always do. Clean up your mess.”
“It’s not my fault,” I muttered.
“I can’t stand by and watch this all over again.”
“Then don’t.”
“He’s not worth this, Corrine. Your peace…
your safety… that’s what’s worth fighting for.
Not him. Answer this when we call you.” She grabbed her purse off the counter and tossed me my phone.
She shook her head, pausing as if she wanted to say something.
She turned, walked out, and then slammed the door behind her.
I grabbed the other couch pillow and smashed it over my ear, sandwiching my head. My phone buzzed with an incoming text.
I told you we’d always find our way to each other. You looked beautiful. I’ll get to you as soon as I can. Be careful though. The police aren’t going to help you.
I dropped my phone as if it had just caught fire.