Читать книгу In This Moment - Karma Brown, Karma Brown - Страница 18

8

The next morning I see the gel clings on our bedroom windows and smile, thinking of Audrey and her big, bird-loving heart. Then I remember what happened the day before, and the smile melts from my face.

I’m alone in bed, Ryan already up. Squinting at the clock I see it’s nearly seven, and as I come more fully to consciousness I hear shuffling, movement underneath me. The sounds of my family getting ready for the day. I wait a few more minutes, working up the courage to face the day—it was late by the time Ryan went to pick Audrey up at the Becketts, and I was half asleep on the couch when she gave me a kiss good-night before heading to bed. I’m not sure how she’s doing today, though I can imagine.

When I finally walk into the kitchen in my robe and slippers, the vestiges of sleep still clinging to me, Ryan hands me a mug of coffee, and I grimace. “Can’t do it,” I croak, handing it back.

He pulls out his phone and taps the flashlight icon. “I called Prakesh to check in on how Jack’s doing this morning. They were able to stop the bleeding and stabilize his skull fracture, and repair the leg. He’s hanging in there.”

“Oh, thank god,” I say, momentarily refreshed by the sense of relief that washes over me. But then I remember the possible paralysis. “What about...the other thing?”

He shakes his head, a frown on his face, and I know Jack is paralyzed. The weight is back, painfully heavy on my shoulders, and it’s all I can do not to burst into tears. Ryan notices and places a gentle finger under my chin. “Let’s worry about you for now, okay?” he says softly. “Open up.”

I open my mouth and stick my tongue way out while he shines the light into my throat. I can smell my rose face cream on his skin—he claims to not need moisturizer whenever I offer to pick up some for him, but my own bottle seems to disappear at a mysterious rate.

“Yuck!” Audrey says, her head right beside Ryan’s as he shines the light down my throat. I resist the urge to close my mouth, my jaw beginning to complain.

“Strep,” Ryan announces, releasing my chin. “Classic.” Even though as a radiologist he probably hasn’t seen a case of strep since medical school, Ryan prides himself on being able to diagnose illnesses that send one to a family doctor. He also likes to guess how many stitches a cut will need, or how many degrees a fever is, or which strain of flu has felled us.

I sigh, rubbing my jaw. “At least I don’t have any showings today. But I can’t do strep right now. No time.”

“That’s what Sam has,” Audrey says, licking yogurt off her spoon before dipping it back into the container. “Apparently it’s going around school.” She looks a bit tired but otherwise seems fairly chipper, considering yesterday’s events. I wonder if she’s simply putting on a good performance.

“Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you’re doing it,” Ryan says to me as he tucks his phone into the side pocket of his bag and swigs the last of his coffee. “I’m going to drop Audrey at school on the way in, and you’re going to go get swabbed. Just to be sure.”

“You’re going to school?” I turn to her with surprise.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She jumps from her chair at the table and rinses her empty yogurt container out before tossing it into the recycling bin under the sink. I look over at Ryan. Surely she needs at least one day off, to process and talk about what we went through yesterday?

“She’s okay, Meg,” Ryan says, as I open and then close my mouth.

“I’m okay, Mom,” she reiterates, glancing between Ryan and me. “It’s not like we were the ones in the accident or anything.”

“That’s true, Aud, but it’s still a pretty scary thing to see a friend go through.” I wish I could explain how the trauma of being an observer to something so horrifying can be nearly as bad as physical bumps or bruises. Audrey is nearly the same age I was when Paige died, and I’ll never forget what it felt like to realize we weren’t invincible—that terrible things could happen at any moment. “How’s Sam doing?” She shrugs, says he’s okay. “Is there anything you want to talk about? About Jack, or the accident?” I ask, giving her arm a rub.

She slings her backpack over her shoulder, knocking my hand off her arm in the process. I tell myself she didn’t mean to do it. “Nope,” she says, then turns to Ryan. “Can we go? I don’t want to be late.”

I look at Ryan as if to say, “Can you give it a try?” but he’s busy packing up his bag and doesn’t notice.

“We can talk later,” I say to Audrey, tugging on her backpack shoulder strap so she looks at me. “Audrey?”

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes. I pull her to me for a tight hug despite the resistance I feel in her lithe body. I breathe in the scent of her hair, something fruity with a hint of lavender, feeling grateful for the hundredth time since yesterday afternoon that she wasn’t the one in front of that car.

“Mom, we’ve got to go.” She pats my back a couple of times to placate me. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ryan grabs the handles of his leather duffel bag that he takes to the gym on his lunch break and gives me a kiss. I turn at the last minute so his lips graze my cheek, and he smiles. “Meg, you know I never get sick.” It’s true. After so many years in med school and working in the hospital, Ryan never seems to catch anything.

“I’ll pick you up after school,” I say to Audrey. “We can get ice cream or something.”

She scowls. “It’s too cold for ice cream. And I don’t need a ride. I’m going to the hospital with Sam after school to see Jack.”

I frown.

“Dad said it was okay,” she says, pointing at Ryan.

“Not a good idea, Aud,” I say, not commenting on Ryan’s lax attitude. “Jack’s only just had surgery, and we don’t know where things are at. Plus, I’m sure they’re all exhausted. They don’t need company right now.”

Audrey looks perturbed in the way only a teenaged girl can. “Sam asked me to go with him. It’s fine, Mom. And Dad already said I could.”

I take a deep breath. “Well, it’s not fine with me.” Ryan sighs, almost imperceptibly, but I catch it. “I’ve asked you to come home so we can have a chat. And that can be over ice cream or hot chocolate or whatever, but we are going to talk about things. So I’ll see you in the pickup line, okay?”

She stomps her foot, the way she used to when she was little and didn’t get her way. “You are so annoying!” she shouts before slamming the door to the garage behind her with extra force.

Ryan adjusts the strap of his messenger bag, looks at me with eyebrow raised.

I sit down at the kitchen table and rest my head in my hands. “Why did you tell her she could go? I’m sure the Becketts need time alone right now. Plus, I want to talk with her about yesterday. Make sure she’s all right.”

He doesn’t respond right away, watches me closely. “Look, I know this has probably brought up a lot of stuff for you,” he says, and I peer at him through my hands. I swallow hard, know he’s talking about Paige. “But this situation is completely different. And if she wants to talk about it, she’ll talk, Meg. I don’t think forcing the issue is a great idea.”

I nod, but not because I agree. Simply to acknowledge I’ve heard him. “Tell her I’ll see her in the pickup line, okay?”

Ryan sighs again, this time with barely concealed frustration. “I think you should be prepared for things not to go the way you hope.”

The way I hope? Nothing about this is what I hoped for—but I won’t pretend like our fifteen-year-old has enough emotional maturity to process what happened yesterday on her own. I know how the aftereffects of witnessing such a tragedy can be slow to show themselves, coming out when you least expect them, and it’s my job to support Audrey, whether she wants it or not. Like my mother did for me.

“Noted,” I say to Ryan, matching his frustrated tone. “See you later.”

He starts to open the door, then turns back. “If you want to talk, I’m here, okay?”

“I know,” I reply, some of my irritation slipping away. “Hope you have a good day.”

“You, too,” he says, before heading through the door.

There have been many times I’ve missed having my mom to talk with since she died—when Audrey was a newborn and I couldn’t figure out how to get her to latch on, after what happened with Emma on New Year’s, when I sold my first house, when I caught seven-year-old Audrey stealing a pack of gum from the variety store and marched her back to confess and apologize. But it’s been a long time since I felt the pain of her loss, like someone is burning me from the inside out, and with a sob I wrap my arms around my body and imagine they’re her arms instead.