Chương 11
That made me want to cry again.
I did not.
Beth brought me a glass of water and whispered, “What happened?”
“In a minute.”
She nodded.
No pressure.
No dramatic face.
Just a minute.
Lily climbed into bed and stopped.
She looked toward the empty space beside the pillow.
“Bunny sleeps there.”
“I know.”
“Rachel has him.”
“Yes.”
“Will the police give him back?”
“I think eventually.”
“Eventually is not tonight.”
“No.”
She pulled the blanket up.
“I don’t want another stuffed animal.”
“I wasn’t going to offer one.”
“Grandma would.”
“Grandma would buy you twelve and name them all.”
Lily smiled faintly.
Then she touched the edge of the bandage over her eyebrow.
“Does Rachel have to stay in jail?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if she says sorry?”
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry doesn’t decide what happens.”
“Why not?”
“Because sometimes people can be sorry and there are still consequences.”
She stared at the ceiling.
“Like losing tablet time?”
“Bigger than tablet time.”
“Like jail.”
“Maybe.”
She turned her head.
“Do you still love her?”
The question went through me cleanly.
I could have lied for simplicity.
I had already learned what simple answers could cost.
“Yes.”
Lily frowned.
“Even now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because love doesn’t always disappear when someone does something terrible.”
She thought about that.
“That’s stupid.”
“A little.”
“Do you want her back?”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
That surprised both of us.
Lily watched me closely.
“Ever?”
“I don’t know what ever looks like.”
She picked at the blanket.
“I don’t want her to be my mom anymore.”
I swallowed.
“You don’t have to decide everything tonight.”
“She told people she was.”
“She was your stepmother.”
“She said stepmom sounded fake.”
I remembered that.
Rachel had laughed when she said it.
She had told friends, “I’m not doing all this homework supervision for a step qualifier.”
Everyone had laughed.
Including me.
At the time it sounded affectionate.
Now I could not tell where affection ended and ownership began.
Lily whispered, “Sometimes she made me call her Mom when you weren’t there.”
My body went still.
“What?”
Lily looked immediately afraid.
I softened my voice.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“She said Mama Rach was babyish.”
“When did she say that?”
“A lot.”
“You never told me.”
“I know.”
I stopped myself before asking why.
She had already told me why in a hundred different ways.
Instead I said, “Did you want to call her Mom?”
“Sometimes.”
That answer hurt in a different place.
“Okay.”
“Then sometimes I didn’t.”
“That’s okay too.”
“She got mad when I didn’t.”
“What did she do?”
Lily rolled onto her side.
“I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Okay.”
I stood.
She reached for my hand before I could move away.
“I want you here.”
“I’m here.”
“Can you sleep on the floor?”
“There’s probably a couch.”
“The floor is closer.”
So I took a spare comforter from Beth and made a bed beside Lily’s.
My back complained before I even lay down.
I was thirty-eight years old and apparently had the spine of an eighty-year-old accountant.
Lily watched me arrange the pillow.
“You look uncomfortable.”
“I am thriving.”
“You’re not.”
“Please respect my privacy.”
She smiled.
The room became quiet.
Beth moved around downstairs.
A cabinet opened.
Water ran.
A car passed outside.
My phone lay facedown beside my pillow.
For the first time all night, it was not ringing.
That silence frightened me almost as much as the calls had.
Lily whispered into the dark.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah?”
“If Rachel was going to take me somewhere, would she have asked me first?”
I stared at the underside of the bed frame.
“I don’t know.”
“I think she would.”
“Why?”
“Because she always made me pack my own stuff.”
I sat up.
Lily’s eyes were open.
“What do you mean?”
“For practice.”
A cold line moved down my back.
“What practice?”
She yawned.
“When you worked late.”
I leaned closer.
“What did she have you practice?”
“Packing fast.”
My pulse started pounding.
“She said it was a game.”
“What did you pack?”
“Clothes.”
“Anything else?”
“Bunny.”
Her eyelids were dropping.
“And my passport folder.”
I could barely breathe.
“Lily, how many times did you play that game?”
She shrugged under the blanket.
“A bunch.”
“Did Rachel tell you why?”
Lily’s eyes closed.
“She said someday we might have to leave before you changed your mind.”
I did not move for several seconds.
Lily’s breathing had already begun to deepen.
She had delivered the sentence with the careless exhaustion of a child who did not understand that she had just rearranged the entire shape of the night.
I reached for my phone and stopped before touching it.
Calling Ruiz from beside the bed would wake her.
Leaving the room felt impossible.
So I lay there on Beth’s carpet and stared into the dark until my eyes adjusted to the blue glow from the digital clock.
Three seventeen.
At three twenty-two, Lily rolled onto her back and winced.
I sat up immediately.
“My head hurts.”
“How bad?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“I don’t know.”
The discharge instructions flashed through my mind.
Worsening headache.
Confusion.
Vomiting.
I touched her arm.
“Do you feel sick to your stomach?”
“No.”
“Can you see me okay?”
She opened one eye.
“You have two noses.”
My heart stopped.
Then she smiled.
I stared at her.
“That wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
“You just aged me six years.”
She pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“I can see fine.”
I checked her pupils the way the nurse had shown me, though I had no confidence in what I was doing.
They looked equal.
I gave her the medication the hospital had recommended and a few sips of water.
She swallowed without complaint.
“Can I sleep now?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to poke me again?”
“Probably.”
“That’s rude.”
“I’m deeply rude.”
She closed her eyes.
May you like
Within minutes she was asleep again.
I waited another ten before carrying my phone into the hallway.
