If she dies, p.10
If She Dies, page 10
“What am I supposed to do when Brady returns home?” I ask in a strangled voice. “How can I watch him reunited with his family, living a normal life, when my life will never be normal again? Or is that my punishment, Colin?” A sob escapes my mouth. “Am I supposed to suffer every day for the rest of my life because I wasn’t paying attention when Lily ran into the road, and Josh has every reason to hate me, and you have every reason to hate me—”
The force of my tears overtakes my words, and Colin is there, collecting me in his arms.
“I just wish they’d disappear,” I moan into his shirt. “I wish Eve didn’t exist, and then I wouldn’t have to do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore . . . I can’t . . .”
“It’s going to be okay,” he tells me. “I promise.”
I wish I could believe that.
FIFTEEN
I open my eyes.
The first thing that comes into focus is a yellowed plaster ceiling with an ugly stain in the shape of an amoeba, and I realize I’m in a bed—my bed—with the blankets pulled up to my neck. I sit upright and kick away the sheets. I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been out, but the light outside the bedroom window feels wrong. My cell phone is nowhere in sight, but the clock on the nightstand tells me it’s after eight.
“Colin?”
My voice is nothing more than a dusty croak in the empty room. Our bedroom, like most of the rooms in this house, is an odd-shaped angle of four walls, with one door that opens into the dining room, and another door that opens into the living room. The dining room door is shut, but the living room door is open a few inches, and I can hear voices on the other side, talking by the front door. No . . . not talking—arguing.
“I just want to make sure she’s okay,” Colin says.
My brother’s voice is sharp, and it sounds like he’s on the porch. In my mind’s eye, I can see Josh blocking the entrance as he holds the screen door half open with one hand. A wave of dizziness passes over me as I throw my legs over the side of the bed a little too quickly, and when I close my eyes, everything comes back to me in a rush: Colin driving me home from JoKat, helping me into the house and into bed, and after that . . . nothing. I don’t remember taking any sleeping pills—I just crashed.
“And I’m telling you again,” Josh says tightly, “Tess isn’t your responsibility anymore.”
“She’s my family—”
“You keep saying that, but if you really cared for her, you’d see that all you’re doing is making things worse.” Josh blows out a harsh sigh. “Jesus, Colin, you show up out of the blue and drop your cancer bomb. My wife sends me away from my own house so you two can do whatever it is you do, and no more than an hour after I return to work, you call to tell me I should probably come home.”
Colin doesn’t answer, but I can visualize him staring at his feet, refusing to make eye contact. Just because my brother is a good listener doesn’t mean he always agrees with what’s being said, but he will be patient and wait for his turn to speak. Whatever personal feelings Colin has toward Josh, this is our home, and Colin knows to respect that.
“In case it’s not obvious,” Josh says, lowering his voice, “Tess and I aren’t exactly in the best place right now. She needs stability in her life, and we need a fresh start. I’m doing the best I can, but that’s clearly not good enough . . .” There’s a long, drawn-out pause that makes my pulse skip a beat. “I don’t know how to make things right, or even if Tess wants me to make things right.”
I try to stand, but my legs refuse to work. I want to go to Josh and tell him the problem is me and I know he’s trying, but he already knows these things. And he knows that I know these things.
It changes nothing.
I’ve hurt my husband too many times to count in the last nine months. Josh bends over backward to please me, to try to help me, and he deserves so much more. Premarital counseling taught me that a woman needs to feel loved and validated from her husband, whereas a man needs to feel respected by his wife. It’s the way the genders are hardwired. My parents knew this, and whether or not I realized it growing up, it shone through in everything they did. They were partners and best friends. They gave each other what they needed to thrive and provide a loving home for Colin and me. And even though it’s Josh who grew up in an unstable environment, I’m the one who’s failed our marriage, because I haven’t partnered with him. I haven’t trusted him. And even now, still, he’s trying to protect me from what he believes is hurting me the most: Colin. And because of that, I can’t go out there and stop him, because he’s doing what he believes is right. I can’t take that away from him. I’ve already hurt him once today by sending him away, and I won’t do it again, no matter how much it pains me to sit here and listen.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” Josh asks, and without waiting for an answer, says, “You’re always so fast to play the ‘family’ card, but there’s more to family than sharing parents and showing up for the occasional dinner, and you don’t get that. You never have. Family means being there for each other.”
Colin says, “That’s why I’m here now—”
“But it’s not.” I can hear the frustration in Josh’s voice, clipping each word. “You came here for you, not for Tess. You survived your crisis and now you’ve come to make amends, but that’s not how it works. You don’t get to disappear when things get complicated and then reappear once everything’s resolved. A real family goes through the shit together.”
I realize I’m holding my breath, and I release it with a quiet hiss.
“It’s not wrong that you didn’t want to stay and live in Newton, Colin, but by your age, most people usually have some sort of semi-permanent address, or at minimum—a way to get in touch with them. Most people don’t have to constantly wonder where their siblings are, worry if they’re in trouble, or speculate on what they’re doing when they can’t be found for months on end.” There’s a shuffle of sound—either from Colin or Josh, moving their feet. “But Tess and I also know you’re not like most people, and Tess has mostly accepted that. She’s grown accustomed to visiting your parents’ graves alone over the years. She’s made peace with you never being here for Thanksgiving dinner, or spending Christmas day with us, or any holiday for that matter. But after Lily was born . . .”
My arms go cold. I don’t want to listen anymore because I know where this is going, but I can’t pull myself away.
“Do you remember the first time you met Lily?” Josh asks. “You showed up a few months after her first birthday. We hadn’t seen you in almost a year and a half—”
“I was working in New Zealand,” Colin says. “And I called when I could. You know that.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I don’t know if it’s because Josh is working through an emotion or reliving the memory, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. Not the reason why Colin was in New Zealand, but the first time Colin saw Lily. Held her. The way Colin’s eyes lit up, as if he’d never held a baby before in his life, and maybe he hadn’t. Or maybe it was because he saw some of me in Lily’s face, or even a little of our mother. This was something he had never encountered before in his travels: a brand new Adams.
“Lily was crazy about you right from the start,” Josh says. “She’d never been particularly shy, but when you showed up, it was like she had known you her whole life. Tess was overjoyed at finally introducing you two, and those few days you stayed with us was the happiest I’d seen my wife in a long time.” His tone softens. “I hope you understand how important you are to Tess. You’re not only her brother; you’re also the only link to her parents. To her childhood. Tess glowed the entire time you were here, and I hadn’t seen that in a long time. Not like that.”
A small click escapes my throat.
“And then you left,” Josh says flatly. “You disappeared as quickly as you came, and when that happened, you not only broke Tess’s heart, but also Lily’s. Lily cried for days. She didn’t understand why you weren’t there when she woke up in the mornings. Tess tried to explain, but how do you explain anything to a one-year-old? You can’t.”
“I never meant to hurt either of them—”
“Tess knows that. It’s the reason she never said anything to you, but I was the one who had to witness her pain firsthand, knowing there was nothing I could do to fix it. But hey . . . you are who you are, and we all know you’re never going to change. But not all of us get to live carefree lives and do what we want whenever we want. Most of us have responsibilities and families to care for, and now that Lily is gone, Tess is the only family I have, and I will do anything—and I mean anything—to protect my family.”
Josh’s voice has grown sharp, and I know the tone well. Too well. He’s reached his limit. And when that happens, he doesn’t hold back.
“I’m sorry you got cancer,” he tells Colin, “and I know you thought you were doing the right thing by staying away, but you weren’t. You should have let us help you, or at least told us what was happening. But you didn’t. You did what you always do: retreated inside yourself with no regard for anyone else. And when you did that, Tess didn’t only mourn the loss of our daughter, she also mourned the loss of you.”
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
“I can’t change the past,” Josh says. “I can only work to change the future and rebuild our lives. Right now, Tess needs stability—not complications—and you’re a complication, Colin. You always have been. But you’re the only family Tess has, so I guess we’re all stuck with each other . . . until you run off and break her heart and soul again.”
It feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach, and this time, I do manage to stand, but I only go as far as the door, out of sight, one hand covering my mouth. The silence draws out so long that I almost step out to see if Colin is still on the porch.
“You’re right,” Colin says finally. “I’ve made too many mistakes to count, and I can stand here and apologize all day, but we both know that won’t change anything. I don’t want to make things worse, but you need to promise me you’ll stand by Tess’s side no matter what happens. She’s already hurting more than you know, and things are in motion that will change everything.”
“What does that mean?” Josh asks.
My heart is a slow, heavy throb. Colin is now going to tell Josh about Eve and Meg, and how I go to the coffee shop and park every day to watch—
“That’s not my place to say,” Colin says. “But you need to look after her, now more than ever.”
“Colin . . .”
“Tell Tess I’m going to try and make things right. Will you tell her that?”
Silence fills the air as I wait for something more, but there’s only the click of the front door as it closes. I look out the bedroom window and see Colin making his way back to his motorcycle, head turned in my direction, eyes on me. He doesn’t speak or smile; only gives me a minuscule nod as he mounts his motorcycle, starts the engine, and drives off without looking back.
“I’m sorry.”
Josh’s voice gives me a small start. He’s standing in the doorway with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking sheepish and flushed.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Colin today,” he says before I have a chance to speak, “but I know now isn’t the time to discuss it. I think we both need some time to decompress. Yeah?”
“Yes,” I say, barely voicing the word.
“I’m going to retire to the dining room to catch up on some work. I have a meeting tomorrow morning at nine with a new client, but it shouldn’t take more than an hour. After that, I’d like to come home and talk. I know we could wait until tomorrow evening when I’m done with work, but—”
“No,” I say, and manage a smile. “Come home after your meeting. We’ll talk.”
I don’t know if I’ll feel that way tomorrow, but I’m grateful Josh understands that now isn’t the right time, and by agreeing to talk in the morning, it shows I’m making an effort.
“Okay.” He nods, as if to cement the point. “I’ll leave you be.”
I turn back to the window as soon as the bedroom door closes, knowing my thoughts should be on my husband, but as usual, my thoughts are chasing after my brother.
SIXTEEN
Eve’s running late.
It’s Friday, and she usually runs slow on Fridays, but it’s nearing eight, and while it’s only a few blocks to school, she’s never this late. My morning routine is always the same—grab coffee at the drive-through as soon as I get to town between 7:30 and 7:45, then wait to follow Eve to school—but the longer I sit in the parking lot, the more exposed I feel. Katy was overly friendly and inquisitive when I ordered, and it was clear she wanted to ask why I left so abruptly yesterday. I’m grateful for her concern, but I’m even more grateful she didn’t ask, because it would only mean more lies. I’m afraid to look in the rearview mirror because I worry I’ll see her staring out the storefront window at me. She probably now thinks the reason I sit in my car so long every morning is because I’m dreading something or someone. It’s just more unwanted attention. I’m hoping she’ll move past it and not be weird the next time I order, but that’s a worry for tomorrow. My normal afternoon routine is to come back at three and sit at the front window to wait for Eve, but today, I have to go home to meet Josh, which means I need to be back in Harlow by 10:30 at the latest. That should give me time to undress, crawl back into bed, and hopefully leave him none the wiser that I left the house after he went to work.
I try Colin’s cell a third time, and when it again goes to voicemail, I don’t bother leaving another message. I’ve never been to Midtown Lodge, where Colin is staying, but I know it’s near Benn’s—one of Newton’s oldest ice cream shops. Josh and I went there a few times while we dated, and he’d always ridicule me for ordering a single scoop of plain vanilla ice cream in a bowl, when the menu board boasted multiple flavors of shakes, sundaes, malts, and too many other treats to name. We’d talked about taking Lily there but never got around to it. Just one more failure on my part.
The front door to Eve and Meg’s building opens, but it’s only a young woman outfitted in spandex and ear buds. She stops at the bottom step, taps the smart watch on her wrist twice, and then takes off down the street in a brisk jog.
The time is 7:59.
Eve is never this late. For all I know, she could be sick and staying home from school. One more minute, I tell myself, and then I leave to find Colin. I can’t waste any more time sitting here. I also need a bathroom, but that’s a punishment I deserve. It was something I always scolded Lily about—not peeing before we left the house—because like clockwork, we would be in the car or waiting in some line and she would go from “not needing to pee at all” to “I’m going to soak myself” in a nanosecond. I know most children always have a hundred unimportant things hijacking their thoughts—none of which involve their bodily functions—but at the time, it only irritated me to no end. Now I’d give anything to be irritated again by those little things.
I key the engine and put the Malibu into gear. There’s road construction ahead on Dickerson, backing up traffic in front of JoKat, and by the time I’m finally able to pull onto the street, I only make it as far as the corner. I take a breath and refocus my thoughts on Colin. I can’t even begin to unpack his conversation with Josh last night, and I don’t want to. That’s for later. My brother and husband play nice for the most part, but deep down, there’s no love lost between them, and that hurts me more than either of them know. It’s a problem that can never be solved. They’re just too different. Josh claims to be a people-person, but that’s only because his job puts him in a position where he has to be. When he’s left to his own devices, he’s more than happy to hibernate inside the house and read, or watch television, or reorganize something. Colin, on the other hand, would go insane working in an office, let alone being cooped up inside for very long. Colin thrives around people. He’s never met a stranger. He’s just as comfortable around a homeless man as he is the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Not that I’ve witnessed the latter, but I have seen him pass conversation with the homeless on multiple occasions. Colin’s heart is almost as big as his personality—a trait inherited from our father, who would go out of his way to make small talk with anyone and everyone he came into contact with, whether it was inside a store, in a parking lot, or even through an open car window while stopped at a red light. Our father also had the uncanny ability to remember the birthdates and wedding anniversaries of everyone on both sides of our extended family, no matter how distant the relationship. Our father was loved by all, just like Colin.
But I was exactly like my mother.
Our mother craved travel and a break from routine, but at the same time, she was fiercely protective of her alone time and felt overwhelmed in large groups. It was always her plan to only have one child—No need to be greedy, she would tell my father—but it was really because she was content to keep her daily life condensed and manageable. A single child was workable chaos, and I perfectly understand that concept. My father, I imagine, was beyond thrilled when the ultrasound revealed another baby hiding behind the first. I don’t think for one second my mother was disappointed at having twins, but I’m sure it rocked her world for a good, long time. My parents, like Josh and I, didn’t have much money when they were starting out, and buying two of everything had to put a strain on their finances and marriage.
My phone dings on the seat beside me, breaking apart my thoughts. It’s a text, but it’s not from Colin or Josh—it’s from our phone provider, asking me to take a customer satisfaction survey. I delete the message, toss my cell back into the passenger seat, and feel my breath catch inside my throat.
Standing on the sidewalk, no more than five feet from my car, is Eve Becker.
Staring back at me.
“Hello,” she says timidly.
