Chapter 9 #6
I was crying again. “I wish I weren’t such a mess for you all the time.”
“What does that mean?”
That he would get tired of my problems and leave. Like Mike. Like my dad. “I can’t imagine that it’s really your pleasure to have to listen to me whine and complain.”
“You think you whine and complain? Annie calls me to gripe when she thinks someone has taken her spot on the floor at yoga.”
I started to laugh through my tears. “We all have our problems,” I said. I heard movement upstairs. “I have to go. I have to help Cassie.”
He was quiet for a minute, then said something under his breath.
“What did you say? I think you cut out.”
“Nothing,” Luke answered quickly. “Call me when you can. Or text me, let me know you got the car.”
“I will.” I didn’t want to let him go. “Bye.”
Cassie was in the bathroom when I got upstairs. I waited outside the door until I heard her start to open it, then dashed into the hall. She hated it when I hovered.
“Emmy,” she called. “I know you’re right there.”
“Oh, did you need me?” I casually walked into her bedroom.
“You’re the worst liar in the world. Do you remember when you came up here? I told you to make up a story about why you came to town, something that made you sound interesting and exciting. But you totally whiffed it.”
I did remember well. The kids in my class had asked me why I was starting school in November, and I couldn’t lie. I ended up not saying anything, which had made their imaginations run wild. Lying would have been better.
“I want to go outside,” Cassie said restlessly. “Help me downstairs.”
We walked slowly down, then out the back door and to the bench in the moon garden. I tucked a blanket around her shoulders, and put another one over her lap. “Do you need the basin? Water? Are you hungry?”
Cassie just closed her eyes. After a minute, she opened them and looked at me. “Why do you do it?”
“Ask too many questions? Sorry.”
She shook her head. “No, why do you do this? Do any of this?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I answered.
Cassie shook her head again, then dragged her hand over her meager ponytail. “I want to shave my head. Will you help me?”
I nodded at her. “Yes. I think we have Grandpa Jack’s electric razor somewhere. That should work.”
“Will you shave your head with me?”
I gulped. I had a sudden vision of myself with Luke, running my hair over his naked body. It was ok, it would grow back. “Yes. If you want me to. Solidarity.”
Cassie breathed a disgusted sigh. “What’s wrong with you, Emmy? You would shave off your hair for me? Why are you such a pushover? You know I wouldn’t do this for you.”
I sat down on the bench. “Well, I wouldn’t ever ask you to cut your hair if our positions were reversed. Your hair is…was…so beautiful, shiny and curly. But it will come back.”
She sat up straight, glaring at me. “I don’t mean just cutting off my hair. I mean, I wouldn’t do any of it for you. If you had come to me pregnant like I did to you, I would have told you to get an abortion and shut the door on you.”
I felt like she had punched me.
“Then you come up here, working yourself to the bone, taking care of my kid. I don’t know what’s wrong with you.” She was crying.
I started to cry too. “I love you. I love you and Charlie.”
“I want you to take care of him.”
“I am. I will, always.”
“No,” she said. “I want it to be legal. Mike doesn’t want him.” She wiped her eyes and looked away. “He doesn’t think Charlie is his.”
I thought of Charlie, so tall for his age, with his blonde hair and olive skin. He didn’t look anything like Mike. “Is he Mike’s?”
Cassie didn’t answer for a minute, then said, “I don’t know.”
Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. “It doesn’t matter if he isn’t biologically Mike’s. Under the law, he was born while you were married, so Charlie is his son unless Mike contests it.”
“How do you know this crap?”
I shrugged. If you spent long enough bouncing around the family court system, you picked up a lot of details from a lot of sad stories.
“Last time I went to the doctor I signed a bunch of stuff. I signed a DNR.”
I felt tears start again. “Ok. Thank you for telling me.”
“I wrote a will. They have forms. I left the house to you. And Charlie. I left him to you, also.” She had her head leaned back on the bench, eyes closed.
“Cassie, you know I’ll always take care of him, but Mike—”
“He wrote a letter saying that he doesn’t want Charlie. I made him write it and sign it.”
My first thought was that I needed to find that letter so that Charlie would never, ever see it. “I don’t know if a letter…ok. We’ll figure it out. I love Charlie, and I’ll always take care of him.”
Cassie opened her eyes and looked at me. “Thank you.”
“No matter what you say, Cass, I think if I needed it, you would be there for me.” I thought about Luke, wanting to help me. “I’m glad to be here. It’s my pleasure.”
She looked at me, then said, “I’m really tired.” I helped her up, just as two SUVs turned into our driveway. “What’s going on?”
“Hang on.” I tucked her back in the blankets on the bench. “I’ll be right back.”
“Emily Brennan?” one of the drivers asked me, and I had the momentary urge to say no and run.
“Yes, I’m Emily.”
“Luke Whitaker asked me to deliver this car to you.” He handed me the keys. “It’s washed, tank’s topped off. If you could mention that to Mr. Whitaker.”
“Uh, yes, I’ll tell him. Thank you.”
He nodded and got into the other SUV, which backed out of the driveway. I stared at the keys in my hand. Milos’ car was a Porsche. A Porsche SUV. I had never even touched a Porsche.
“Emmy, what is going on?” Cassie called. She was standing, leaning on the fence, and I hurried back to her.
“Um, Luke is loaning us a car.” I didn’t look at her. “Let’s get inside.”
She was quiet as I helped her up the stairs and back into bed.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked. “It’s almost time for me to go pick up Charlie. You look better. I think fresh air was good for you.” I was babbling.
Cassie eyed me. “So Luke. I never would have thought it.”
I nodded. “I know I’m just sloppy seconds.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“It makes sense. I’m glad, ok, Emmy?”
“Cass—”
“Can you leave me alone now? I’m sick of you hovering.”
I texted Luke to say thank you, and that the delivery driver had spruced up the car. I was so nervous driving it that I almost had an anxiety attack on the way to Whitaker Elementary. “Charlie!” I yelled out of the window. He would never recognize me in this rig.
He walked slowly over to the Porsche. “Emmy, how did you get this car?”
“Pal, don’t worry. I didn’t steal it. It’s Luke’s. We’re just borrowing it.”
He started to get into the front, and I hooked my thumb at the back door. “Emmy!”
We waited for Darby, whose eyes bugged out when she saw the grey SUV. “Wow, Emmy, is this your boyfriend’s car?” She sighed. “I wish I had a boyfriend.”
“Get your MBA and buy your own Porsche,” I advised her.
∞
“Cassie?” It was quiet upstairs. “I’m home!
” It had been a much better day. Knowing that I had reliable transportation took a huge burden off me.
I was trying to work through the nerves that we would scratch/dent/ding it; despite my anxiety, it was a dream to drive.
Cassie had been up most of the night before but this morning’s treatment had seemed to go ok.
She had gone to the hospital without complaint, and had been very quiet afterwards, only opening her mouth to tell me to go to work and leave her alone. So I thought she was feeling better.
It was Wednesday. Day two after the Departure of Mike.
Countdown minus three days to the Return of Luke.
He was on his way to Liechtenstein, which I had been reading about and informing Charlie of.
Charlie, oddly, was not very interested in my explanation of a constitutional monarchy, preferring to search the app store on my new phone for free games.
There was no swim practice, so he had gone to his friend Rocco’s house to play.
I felt in a good enough mood to I face the mail.
I took the bundle from the tilting mailbox and walked up the stairs to the second floor, checking through the envelopes.
A gardening catalog, addressed to Nana. Maybe Cassie would want to look at it.
Bill, bill, overdue, overdue, service disconnection notice.
Oh, no. I involuntarily clutched the envelopes in my hand, then made myself relax my fist. First things first.
“Cass?” I whispered, as I opened the door. I didn’t want to wake her if she was asleep. She was lying on her side, facing the window. It seemed so still in the room. “Cassie?” I said louder.
Her eyes were open, and a trail of vomit led from her mouth onto the coverlet. I reached out my hand for her shoulder. “Cassie? Cassie?” my voice wavered out. “Cassie!”
The new bottle of pain medication was empty on the bedside table, and an empty water glass sat beside it. “Cassie!” I said again. “Cassie!” I shook her shoulder desperately. “Cassie, Cassie!” I felt for a carotid pulse and there was nothing. Her skin was cold.
I realized that I was on my knees next to the bed, my hands on both her shoulders, shaking her back and forth, screaming. My ears were ringing. I let go, and stood, and walked stiffly across the mail I had dropped to find my phone downstairs.
“Cherry County Hospital, Pediatric Unit.”
“May I please speak with Tara Mendoza? This is an emergency.”
“Just a moment, please, I’ll find her.”
Tara picked up the phone out of breath. “Darby? Diego?”
“Tara, it’s Emily. Nothing’s wrong with Darby or Diego.” My voice sounded flat and funny.
“Oh shit, Emmy, you scared me so much! The charge nurse came running to get me. What’s wrong?”
“I just found Cassie. I think she OD’d.”
“Hang up right now. I’ll call 911,” she ordered me.
“No, Tara—it’s too late. I just, I don’t know what to do now. Who am I supposed to call? Loretta died in hospice. I’m not sure what to do.” I was amazed at my calm voice.