Chương 7
There was no clean line dividing the woman Laura knew from the woman who had hit her.
That evening Evan called his manager.
He asked for the next morning off.
Laura heard only his side.
“No, family thing.”
A pause.
“I know.”
Another.
“I said I know, Dave.”
Longer pause.
“I’ll come in after lunch if I can.”
He hung up.
Laura leaned against the doorway.
“Problem?”
“We’re short two people.”
“You don’t need to miss work.”
He gave her a look.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Evan, this is exactly—”
“No.”
His voice stayed quiet.
“This is exactly why you didn’t tell me? Because I have a job?”
“Because you always think you have to be there.”
“I do have to be there.”
“For your mom?”
“For you.”
Laura folded her arms.
“I don’t need you at every appointment.”
“Maybe I need to be there.”
That stopped her.
He looked down.
“I missed three months.”
“You didn’t miss them. I hid them.”
“Same result.”
“No.”
“It feels the same.”
He sat on the arm of the couch.
Margaret was in the guest room, apparently reorganizing Laura’s sewing supplies because drawers kept opening and closing.
Evan said, “Do you know what the worst part is?”
Laura waited.
“If you had told me after the first phone call, I probably would have done exactly what Mom said.”
Laura sat beside him.
“I would’ve taken her keys.”
“Yes.”
“I would’ve called three doctors.”
“Yes.”
“I would’ve tried to solve all of it in a weekend.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“You weren’t wrong about me.”
“That doesn’t make me right.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the guest room.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
Laura leaned back.
“Neither do I.”
“That’s inconvenient.”
“Very.”
He touched her hand.
This time she let her fingers close around his.
The next week was worse because nothing dramatic happened.
No emergency.
No definitive test result.
No single event large enough to make decisions easy.
Margaret moved back to her own house after four nights.
She accepted a pill organizer and then called it “the kindergarten box.”
She agreed not to drive and complained about it every day.
Laura took her to the grocery store.
Evan drove her to church.
A neighbor brought over soup and pretended it was because she had made too much.
Margaret knew why.
She ate the soup anyway.
For twelve days, things seemed almost manageable.
Then Laura found Margaret’s car missing.
She had gone over at seven in the morning to check the pill organizer before work.
The driveway was empty.
Laura stood on the porch with her heart pounding.
She called Margaret.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
She called Evan.
He picked up on the second ring.
“What happened?”
That was new.
Not hello.
Not what’s up.
What happened.
“Her car is gone.”
Silence.
“What?”
“She drove.”
“You have her keys.”
“She has a spare.”
“Of course she has a spare.”
“I’m checking the house.”
“Don’t go in if—”
“She’s not here.”
“Laura.”
“I know.”
“Call me when you know something.”
He hung up.
Laura unlocked the door.
The house looked normal.
Coffee cup in the sink.
Television on.
One shoe near the couch.
Margaret’s purse gone.
Laura opened the pill organizer.
Monday morning was empty.
Tuesday morning was empty too.
It was Monday.
She stared at it.
Then the landline rang.
Laura jumped.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A man said, “Is this Margaret Bennett?”
“No. Who is this?”
“This is Owen at Lane’s Market.”
Laura closed her eyes.
Margaret had put Laura’s number on the emergency card in her wallet after the library incident.
“What happened?”
“She’s okay.”
Laura sat down.
Those two words had begun to frighten her.
“What happened?”
“She got turned around in the parking lot.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
“Anybody else hurt?”
“No. She backed into one of the cart corrals. Barely touched it. She’s pretty upset.”
Laura pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“I’m coming.”
Margaret was sitting in a folding chair inside the manager’s office when Laura arrived.
Her lipstick was crooked.
She looked furious.
A young employee stood near the door holding a clipboard.
The store manager, a tired man with a name tag that said OWEN, spoke gently.
“She didn’t hit another car.”
Margaret snapped, “I told her that.”
Owen nodded.
“The cart corral bent a little. We’re documenting it for the store.”
“I offered to pay.”
“We’ll handle it through the normal process.”
“I do not need a process.”
Laura sat beside her.
“Are you okay?”
“I am humiliated.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“I am not injured.”
“Did you take Tuesday’s pills?”
Margaret went still.
Owen looked away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Laura lowered her voice.
“The pill box.”
“I took my medication.”
“Did you take tomorrow’s too?”
Margaret’s eyes flashed.
“Not here.”
“Okay.”
That was the hardest thing Laura had learned in the last week.
Not here.
Not now.
Not every truth needed to be forced open in public.
Evan arrived ten minutes later.
His work jacket was still zipped. Dust streaked one sleeve.
He walked into the office, saw his mother, and stopped.
Margaret lifted her chin.
“I’m fine.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
That surprised all of them.
He spoke to Owen.
He took pictures of the damage.
He exchanged insurance information.
He did not lecture his mother.
He did not ask for the keys.
He simply drove her car home while Laura drove Margaret.
Halfway there, Margaret began to cry.
Quietly.
She wiped at her face angrily with a tissue.
“I have been driving since I was sixteen.”
Laura kept her eyes on the road.
“I know.”
“I taught Evan.”
“I know.”
“He nearly put us through a garage.”
“I’ve heard.”
“He says I grabbed the wheel. I did not.”
“He says you screamed.”
“I instructed loudly.”
Laura almost smiled.
Margaret folded the tissue into a smaller square.
“I knew the store.”
“I know.”
“I knew exactly where I was.”
May you like
Laura waited.
“I just couldn’t understand the lines.”
