Chương 8
My stomach dropped.
I had not used the word discipline.
Neither had Bennett.
“What discipline?”
My voice came out barely audible.
Gloria stared at me.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I don’t.”
She looked irritated now, almost bored.
“You had tantrums.”
“How old was I?”
“How should I remember?”
“You remember enough to call me dramatic.”
“You were impossible.”
“How old?”
She shook her head.
“You see this?”
She gestured toward Bennett.
“This is why I cannot have a normal conversation with you.”
Officer Bennett said, “Mrs. Mercer.”
Gloria pushed the door open.
Cold rain air rushed into the vestibule.
Bennett followed her.
“Before you leave, I need to confirm your current address and contact information.”
“You already have them.”
“I need to confirm them.”
Gloria turned back with a look that made clear she considered the requirement beneath her.
I stayed where I was.
My legs did not feel trustworthy.
Denise came up beside me.
“You okay?”
“No.”
She nodded once.
It was the right answer to my answer.
I leaned against the wall.
The smell of cedar was gone.
I knew that.
The hospital smelled like sanitizer, coffee, and wet coats.
Still, my lungs kept looking for cedar.
I closed my eyes.
There had been a closet under the stairs in our old house.
Not the Birch Lane house.
The one before it.
Blue carpet in the living room.
A brass mail slot.
My father used to complain about drafts.
I remembered sitting in that closet once with my cheek against a cardboard box.
I remembered hearing my mother talking on the phone in the kitchen.
I remembered needing to pee.
Then nothing.
The memory ended there.
Denise said quietly, “You don’t have to chase that right now.”
I opened my eyes.
“I’m not chasing it.”
“You look like you’re trying to.”
“I asked one question.”
“And got more of an answer than you expected.”
I wanted to snap at her.
Instead I rubbed my palms over my jeans.
“I thought I was making it up.”
“What?”
“The closet.”
She waited.
“I’ve had this image for years.”
I swallowed.
“I thought maybe I fell asleep playing hide-and-seek.”
“Do you remember being locked in?”
“I remember not being able to open the door.”
That was all.
No certainty.
No clean sequence.
Just the door not opening.
A child’s hand turning a knob.
My own breath too loud in a small place.
I shook my head.
“I don’t know.”
Denise said, “Then you don’t know.”
The simplicity of it helped.
She did not tell me to trust the memory.
She did not tell me to dismiss it.
She let it stay unfinished.
Officer Bennett returned from the vestibule alone.
“Your mother left.”
I looked toward the glass doors.
A pair of headlights moved across the wet parking lot.
“Where’s my father?”
“Still speaking with another officer.”
“Is he leaving too?”
“Eventually, unless circumstances change.”
I nodded.
“Did you hear what she said?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter?”
Bennett considered the question.
“It may.”
“That’s not much.”
“It’s the most accurate answer I can give.”
I almost laughed.
Everybody in authority tonight spoke in cautious verbs.
May.
Could.
Appears.
Consistent with.
Nothing became solid until somebody wrote it down and signed it.
“Can I go back to Lizzy?”
“Yes.”
I started toward the treatment room.
Bennett said, “Natalie.”
I turned.
“Try not to contact your mother tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
She paused.
“And if she contacts you, don’t delete anything.”
That sentence followed me into the room.
Lizzy was asleep.
Adam sat beside the bed with his phone in one hand and his chin against his chest.
He looked up when I entered.
“What happened?”
I put a finger to my lips.
We stepped into the hall.
“My mother left.”
“Okay.”
“And I asked her whether she used to lock me in closets.”
His expression changed.
“What?”
“She didn’t deny it.”
“Natalie.”
“I don’t know what I remember.”
He reached for me, then stopped halfway.
I noticed.
“You can.”
He put his arms around me.
For several seconds, I stood stiffly.
Then my forehead dropped against his shoulder.
“I hate this,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“I keep thinking every answer is going to be the bottom.”
He rested his cheek against my hair.
“And then there’s another floor.”
I laughed into his shirt.
It sounded awful.
He squeezed me once.
“My sister changed the locks.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
“She called a locksmith she knows.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Her ex-boyfriend.”
I stared at him.
“Megan dated a locksmith?”
“For seven months.”
“When?”
“Before the yoga instructor.”
I blinked.
“That is the least useful information I have received tonight.”
“It’s useful now.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
The expression felt strange on my face.
Adam looked relieved to see it.
“He replaced the front cylinder and the garage side-door lock.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always know.”
“I told Megan not to tell me until tomorrow.”
“That bad?”
“Probably.”
I leaned against him again for half a second.
Then I remembered something.
“Does Gloria know Megan is there?”
“She knows Megan watches Noah sometimes.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Good.”
We went back inside.
Lizzy had rolled onto her side.
Her blanket had slipped down, revealing the thin line of her shoulder.
I pulled it up carefully.
She woke anyway.
Her eyes opened wide and unfocused.
“Aunt Natalie?”
“I’m here.”
She blinked at me.
“Grandma?”
“Not here.”
Her body relaxed.
The change was immediate enough to hurt.
“Grandpa?”
“I don’t know where he is right this second.”
She frowned.
“He gets in trouble when Grandma’s mad.”
I sat down.
“Does that happen a lot?”
Adam glanced toward me.
I knew I was asking too much again.
Lizzy thought about it.
“He goes to the garage.”
“Why?”
“To work on stuff.”
“What stuff?”
May you like
“Nothing.”
The answer sounded so much like a child copying an adult that I stopped.
