“Almost thirty-six hours ago, we removed our son Jacob from all life support because we determined that it was in his best interest at this time. His doctors told us it could take up to six hours for him to pass.” He almost chokes on the words. “Jacob continues to breathe and fight, which my wife and I believe means that he’s still in there somewhere. Maybe he’s trying to tell us something. Who knows?” He shrugs in defeat, quickly losing steam. “We’ve decided to take him home, and we ask that you respect our family’s privacy during this difficult time. Thank you.” He steps away from the microphone as quickly as possible. Questions are lobbed at him from every direction. A man I’ve never seen before ushers him inside the hospital without giving him a chance to answer any of them.
Andrew’s interview clip is quickly followed by a snippet of Lindsey and Andrew as they load Jacob into the back of a nonemergency medical transport vehicle. The video is cut short because someone steps in and blocks the camera with their hand, but it’s enough to catch a glimpse of the side profile of Jacob’s swollen face. I hope Lindsey doesn’t see any of this. They’ve done such a good job of making sure there aren’t any pictures of Jacob and his injuries leaked to the press. They have no desire to make his accident into a spectacle, and they’re not the kind of people who enjoy being in the spotlight. They’ve turned down every interview request, even though they could use the money, because they refuse to profit from the tragedy. Suddenly turned superstitious, Lindsey swears it sets up a bad karmic reaction or something like that.
“How do they plan on getting him into their house?” Mom asks, having the same realization as me. “How are they going to take care of him on their own?”
Just as I turn to answer her, Caleb lets out a small whimper and drops to his knees on the floor. He grabs the coffee table and moans like he’s in pain. I crouch beside him, careful not to touch him so I don’t set him off any more than he already is. I glance at the TV. The image of Jacob is frozen on the screen while the news anchors remind viewers of the tragedy and the fact that there’ve been no arrests in the case. Caleb grips the remote, and I pry it out of his hands, shutting off the TV as fast as I can. What was I thinking? How could I forget that Caleb holds a bomb inside him that can be triggered by the slightest provocation?
FORTY-SEVEN
KENDRA
It feels strange being in my bedroom at night. I only come in here during the day to shower and get ready, but I rarely shower, so I don’t spend much time here. Paul lies on his side with his arms tucked underneath him. He’s kept my side of the bed completely intact. The pillows are still upright. He’s only turned down his side. I guess I was responsible for the twisted sheets every morning.
Paul’s lashes look even longer while he sleeps. I’ve never watched him sleep before. Lots of people get all sappy romantic and talk about how they love watching their lovers sleep, but I’ve never been one of those people. I don’t know how much time has passed since I sat down on his side of our bed. I didn’t come in here to watch him sleep, though. I came in here intending to tell him about Reese, but I can’t bring myself to wake him.
I’m sick with fear. Paul will be furious, but that’s not my biggest concern. What if he insists that I tell Reese what I’ve been doing? He’ll be angrier with me than Paul will be, and unlike Paul, he’s a lot less forgiving. My heart aches just thinking about it.
I lean over and gently shake Paul’s shoulder. He moans and turns over, pulling the covers around him. I trace a circle on his back and whisper, “Wake up.” He slowly opens his eyes, and it takes a second for the sleep to leave as he registers that it’s me. He gives me a slow, tired smile and opens the covers with that look in his eyes. A wave of anxiety flips my stomach. I shake my head and pull away, quickly moving down the bed.
We were supposed to be having sex the night Sawyer died. We’re like any couple who’ve been married forever and forget about sex because we’re too busy with the delicate balancing act of managing work and kids while still trying to hold on to ourselves. Things had been especially hectic, and it had been a while since we’d been together, so I made sure Sawyer was gone with his friends and allowed Reese unlimited game time. I even bought new lingerie. I shudder at the memory, getting goose bumps and rubbing myself like I’m in the skimpy outfit now. Guilt is just one piece of my emotional chaos.
Paul sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What’s up?” he asks, finally semiawake. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” It’s hard to speak around the lump of emotions in my throat. “I wanted to talk to you about Reese.”
“Reese?” His eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. “In the middle of the night you needed to talk about Reese?”
I nod. I’m too nervous to speak. It didn’t seem like what I was doing was all that bad until I had to say it out loud.
“What’s going on, Kendra? You’re starting to freak me out.” He throws the covers off himself as if he’s going to get out of bed.
I motion for him to stop. “You don’t need to get up.” It’s better that he sits down for this. “Do you remember when I took Reese to Dr. Renault and he diagnosed him with ADHD?”
“Of course.” His forehead wrinkles. He’s instantly suspicious.
“And do you remember how he wrote him a prescription for Adderall?”
He narrows his eyes, trying to imagine where I’m going with all this. He’s already sensed that wherever it is isn’t good. “Yes.” His response is curt.
“Well, last year he was really struggling right around the time he was getting ready to take his high school entrance exams and was almost failing math.” I remind him like he doesn’t monitor Reese’s grades and school progress with more diligence than me. “I was afraid he wasn’t going to get into Pine Grove and he was going to get stuck going to Huerte, so I decided to see if the medication that his doctor prescribed would help him focus.” I stress that his doctor prescribed it. It’s not like I gave him medication that he didn’t need or forged a prescription to get some illicit drug. “I went to the pharmacy and had them fill the Adderall that Dr. Renault prescribed.” My words slow at the part that comes next. “I started giving Reese the medication every morning.” My hands shake. I twist them in front of me, trying to get them to stop. “And now I’m worried that he’s using drugs on top of the Adderall that he’s already taking. I’m scared that’s why he’s been even more difficult and unruly.”
“You’ve been giving Reese Adderall?”
I nod.
“For an entire year, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, but my words don’t mean much when we both know I’m only coming clean because everything’s being exposed. The truth? I didn’t ever plan on telling Paul or Reese.
He throws off the covers and stands, scanning the floor for the sweatpants he tossed somewhere before getting into bed. He spots them and slides them on. He works his jaw while he puts on a shirt. His socks are next.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Going for a run.” He hurries to the closet to find his shoes. He hasn’t run in four years. They might not even be there.
I glance at the clock. “Paul, it’s three in the morning. You can’t run now.”
“I can do whatever I want.” He turns around and shoots me a pointed glare. “You do.”
FORTY-EIGHT
LINDSEY
“Why is Jacob sleeping in our living room?” Sutton asks for the third time. It doesn’t matter how many times we explain it to her; she’s still confused as to why the brother we made her say goodbye to the day before yesterday is alive on a hospital bed in our living room today.
I kneel next to her on the rug where she’s been playing with her Barbie dolls for the last hour and pick up one of the Ken dolls, hoping to distract her. I twirl him around. I don’t have the energy to explain things to her again. It’s been over forty-eight hours since I last slept, and my eyes sting from being open so long.
“Mommy, why?” Her whine grates on my nerves.
“We decided to bring Jacob home so that he could be more comfortable and around people he loves when he goes to heaven.”
“But he was already supposed to go to heaven.” She sticks her lip out in an exaggerated pout.
“He was.” A pounding headache grows at my temples. Where is Andrew? He’s supposed to be back by now so he can get Sutton out of the house. I don’t want her sitting here staring at Jacob and watching him die any more than I wanted her to do that when he was in the hospital. We never considered how any of this would work when we made the decision to leave the hospital, and we’ve been figuring it out as we go along, the repercussions of our decision weighing heavy on us. “He’s going to heaven. It’s just taking him a while to make his journey.”
“Why is he taking so long? Can’t he hurry up?” she asks in the blunt way all children do.
I want to call for Wyatt so that he can take her until Andrew gets back, but he wants nothing to do with Jacob dying in our house and won’t do anything to help us. Pretty sure that includes not watching his sister. He completely freaked out last night when we told him our plans.
“What? No?” He shook his head like he was blocking the information from getting inside. “You can’t bring him home.”
It had never occurred to either of us that Wyatt would be opposed to the idea. We tried to assure him that it was a good idea and the best thing for Jacob, but he couldn’t be as easily fooled as Sutton.
“You can’t do this to me. How am I supposed to live in a house that my brother died in?” Hysteria filled his voice.
Andrew tried to calm him down, but he swore he wasn’t coming downstairs until Jacob was out of the house, and so far, he’s kept his word. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do about any of this.
“Your brother will go when he’s ready,” I assure Sutton, and she picks up a different doll, satisfied for the moment.
I will Andrew to hurry before Jacob’s throat fills with phlegm again. It needs to be suctioned out regularly. We spent most of the night trying to keep him from suffocating himself. We took turns holding his head to the side, and we used our turkey baster to suction out the corners of his mouth as best we could. Andrew looked at me like I was crazy when I suggested it, but it worked well enough to keep him from choking and making those horrible gurgling sounds. He’s at the medical supply store picking up an EasyVac Aspirator.
I rest my head on the ottoman. Fatigue covers me like a thick blanket. Sutton prattles at me, but it’s hard to keep up with what she’s saying. Something about a unicorn. Peaches. Where’s Andrew? My thoughts drag in slow motion. Barbie dolls blur in front of me. Everything heavy.
Maybe if I just close my eyes for a second.
“Mommy, look!” Sutton’s voice startles me awake.
Was I dreaming? When did I fall asleep? Thoughts are cotton candy thick. Sutton’s voice. She’s still talking. That girl never stops talking. Where’s Andrew?
My head throbs with pain. Too many days without sleep. I lift my head, and the movement makes me nauseous. Sutton’s dolls are scattered in small piles on the floor.
“Mommy, look!” she calls again.
My eyes follow the sound of her voice. Her pink ballet tutu is spread out across Jacob’s body as she straddles his chest. She smacks his cheeks like she’s playing patty-cake with them. I leap to my feet.
“Sutton! Get off of him! What are you doing?” I race to Jacob’s bed and grab her arm. “What are you doing?” The urge to shake her passes through me.
“Look! He woke up. Jacob woke up!”
I whip her off him in one swift movement, and she stumbles on the floor. “What were you thinking?” My voice shakes with fury as I glare down at her.
Her lower lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears. “I just wanted to see if he’d wake up.”
“Don’t you ever do something like that again! Do you hear me?” I push my finger into her chest. “You can’t hit your brother like that.”
“But Mommy, it worked. Jacob woke up.”
“Stop saying that, Sutton. This is serious.”
She points at him. This time her hand is the one to shake as she cries even harder and louder because I don’t believe her story. Tears stream down her face. “But I’m not lying. He woke up from his nap. Jacob didn’t wanna go to heaven, Mommy, he didn’t.”
Everything stills. I slowly release my hold on her skinny arms and stand. I turn around and look down at Jacob as if I’m sleepwalking.
Jacob’s brown eyes stare back at me.
“Oh my God!” I grab his face and peer into his eyes. They’re wide and unblinking. I smother his face with kisses. “Jacob?” This can’t be happening. It’s not real. His eyes are open.
Sutton slips her hand into mine.
“See, Mommy, I told you,” she says softly.
“Wyatt!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Get out of your room! Your brother isn’t dying!”
FORTY-NINE
DANI
“Can you stay for tea?” I ask Luna as she gathers her stuff to leave Mom’s house.
We called her this morning for help with Caleb because we couldn’t do it by ourselves anymore. Mom and I had been up since four trying to ease his anxiety, but nothing we did made a difference. He only grew more agitated the harder we tried. We almost took him to the hospital, but we called Luna as a last-ditch effort to see if there was anything she could do. The small glimmer of hope I’d experienced the other day when he’d giggled was quickly extinguished after he’d been so triggered by the images on TV last night. He’s almost as bad as he was when we brought him home from the hospital.
Sleep medication was the only thing that brought him relief, and luckily, we all got three hours of decent sleep before his screams penetrated the walls of the house. I tried everything I could think of, but nothing worked. Not even the Xanax we gave him at six.
My first call to Luna went ignored, but she called back immediately after she listened to my message. It took her a few hours, but she worked her magic, and he’s been asleep on the couch for over two hours. Mom quietly stepped away to the back of the house to give Luna and me a chance to talk.
“I can’t stay,” she says when I point to the teakettle on the stove. “I have a history test tomorrow that I have to study for.”
“Okay.” I try to hide my disappointment. “I just like having you around. I miss you.”
“God, Mom, it’s only been three days. You act like I disappeared for weeks. I needed time to think.” She adjusts her backpack on her back. “Did you read my letter?”
“Don’t be mad, but I haven’t read it yet.” I reach out and grab both her hands before she has a chance to dart out the door. “I’ve been avoiding it, but not because I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” I search in her eyes for the little girl who used to be my best friend. “I already know what you have to say, and you’re right. Whatever it is that you have to tell me about how I’ve damaged you, believe me when I tell you that I never meant to be like this and I’m so sorry for all the ways I’ve hurt you. I’d do things so differently if I could.”
“That’s not what I said.” She smiles and wipes the tears off her cheeks. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I did say some of that.” We laugh. I squeeze her hands as she continues speaking. “But the moral of my story was that I was proud of you. You stood up to Dad over me, and you’ve never done that before.”
“So you were so proud of me that you left?” She smiles, and the energy between us relaxes. “I’ve been so ashamed, and I haven’t felt emotionally strong enough to read your letter. I’m barely holding on, and I was afraid it’d be the thing that pushed me off the emotional edge. I have to keep it together right now for Caleb.” I quickly add, “And you.”
She nods with understanding and shifts position, her bag getting heavy. “Do you have any idea what set him off?”
I shake my head. “Not a clue. Ther
e wasn’t anything on the video that he hasn’t seen before. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s seen Jacob. Honestly, Jacob looked worse when he visited him at the hospital, and he didn’t react to him then, so I’m not sure what it was about last night that did it.”
His treatment team brought him down to Jacob’s room for a visit while he was in the psychiatric ward. It was the only request he made while he was there, and despite their misgivings, they allowed it when he refused to let it go. Each room had a whiteboard on the wall that the nurses used, and he repeatedly scribbled, I want to see Jacob.
“What time is his therapy appointment?”
“Two. I’m hoping he sleeps until right before we have to leave. She’s going to prepare him for their interview with Detective Locke.” I lean forward. “Can I give you a hug?”
She nods and folds her body into mine. I wrap my arms around her despite her clunky bag. She rests her head on my shoulder. I inhale the faint smell of her lavender body soap. “Thanks for all your help today.”
“No problem.”
“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you through all of this. You’ve been amazing, Luna. You really have.”
Her body stiffens. “Do you know why I came home and stayed when Caleb came home from the hospital?”
“To help?” Isn’t that what we’re talking about?
“I wish I was doing it for this deep, heartfelt love for my baby brother like everyone makes it out to be and that I was the kind of big sister who took care of her little brother like that, but it’s not.” She struggles to talk through her tears and emotion. “A good big sister would’ve stayed with them that night. I knew they were way too messed up to be left alone, especially when they were so angry with each other.” Her shoulders heave with the weight of her perceived responsibility. “If I had stayed that night . . . none of this would’ve happened. I—”
The Best of Friends Page 19
