For All She Knows

by Beck, Jamie

  I shook my head, reluctantly conceding those points.

  “Then you can’t help,” she said, each word enunciated with perfect clarity.

  I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, holding it tight so she couldn’t jerk it away. “Friendship helps. Love helps. A shoulder to cry on helps, Grace. We need each other now more than ever. Just because we don’t see the answers yet doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Don’t lose faith.”

  For two seconds, maybe three, her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with questions. In the span of a breath, I thought I’d broken through the ice.

  She stared at me, wearing the saddest smile, squeezing my hands tight before pulling hers free. “I’ve never had your faith, Mimi. Now, it’s getting late. Please take Rowan home so I can spend a few minutes with Carter before I need to leave.”

  Door closed, and me with no key. Everything ached while a coldness worked its way through me. This friendship had meant everything to me. I’d thought it unshakable. Unbreakable. Would Grace come to regret this later, and if so, would it be too late to repair the damage?

  I collected the plate and stood, the seeds of anger and betrayal sprouting. As I turned to go, I said, “I don’t want to fight with you, but if you come at me without even trying to find other solutions, you’re not leaving me much choice. I know you have to look out for Carter, but I have to look out for Rowan. My business is already taking a hit, and now I need to prepare for a lawsuit. Meanwhile, you and Sam let Carter go to my house that night even though you knew there’d be a party. A party I knew nothing about until it was too late . . . So tell me, Grace, who’s really more to blame here: You or me?”

  After dumping the plate and cup in the bin atop the trash can, I raced from the cafeteria before stopping to steady myself against a hallway wall. Saying such an awful thing made me dizzy and nauseated. Especially considering Grace’s history with Margot. The only thing that kept me from apologizing right away was the realization that what I’d said was true. Yes, I’d made mistakes, but so had she, and I couldn’t live the rest of my life being everybody’s punching bag.

  I didn’t dare glance back. Once upright, I hustled back to Carter’s room. Outside his door, I heard Rowan animatedly telling some story, and Carter’s light chuckle.

  My phone pinged, so I checked it before cutting their visit short.

  WHOOP!!! WE WON!!!!! Full steam ahead with the athletic facility upgrades.

  I reread Kayla Barker’s text without glee. Grace was probably getting a much less joyful text about that decision right about now, which meant my face would be a reminder of yet another blow. Time to get out of Dodge and regroup.

  I knocked as I entered. “Rowan, we’ve got to go. Carter probably has homework, and I’m sure his mom wants to see him before she goes.”

  “Thanks for coming,” Carter said, wearing a brave smile. “And thanks for those snacks.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. I’m thinking about you every day.” I covered my heart with my hand. Right or not, I shouldn’t have taken that swipe at Grace. There was no comparison between the suffering our two families faced. Carter should be compensated for what happened, and I would never begrudge him the help he needed. “If you need anything at all, you text Rowan or me, okay?”

  He nodded and high-fived Rowan before we left.

  When we got into our car, Rowan said, “I feel better now. Like, Carter doesn’t blame me.”

  Unlike his mother.

  “I’m glad, honey.” I was, too, despite my leaving here feeling worse. “He’s got a long road to recovery and can use every friend he can find. If you can keep his spirits up, that’ll be a big help.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The only good thing to come of the party was how it was forcing Rowan to grow up. He and I had some work to do together, but today gave me hope that he wouldn’t turn into someone who blamed the world for his own failures and faults like his father.

  As we passed the turnoff for Annapolis, I remembered what Grace had said about Dirk. Recent events suggested that I wasn’t fully equipped to raise a teen boy on my own—not that Dirk had proven that he’d be better. If I started laying down the law more firmly, Rowan might not be so happy with our living arrangements. It’d kill me to lose my son, but it’d be worse to let Rowan grow into an entitled asshat.

  “You know, seeing Carter today really drives home how we need to change some things.”

  He frowned. “Like what?”

  “No more parties—no more drinking beer like you’re already twenty-one—even after the grounding ends.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. I can’t stop you from doing things out of my sight, but I hope you’ll consider the danger involved and think about the kind of person you want to be. There are more important things in life than parties. I’d hate to see you waste your talent or lose a shot at a scholarship because you get in trouble with alcohol again.”

  He stared ahead with a scowl on his face.

  I didn’t know how Dirk would handle Rowan. Or parties. Or much of anything, since he’d been less than reliable these past five years. But in all that time, I’d never once asked what Rowan wanted in terms of custody and visitation. His opinion should matter. Heck, a judge would likely ask him.

  “Honey?” The word came out choked, as if something were blocking it.

  “Yeah?”

  I cleared my throat. “Have you ever wanted to live with your dad?”

  He scowled at me. “Now you don’t want me anymore?”

  “Of course I do.” I stared ahead. “But I know you miss your dad. Sometimes I wonder if you wish you had a man around to talk to about stuff.”

  Rowan put his feet up on the dashboard and sank low in the seat, staring out the front window. “I don’t want to switch schools or live with Miranda.”

  I nodded, trying to parse those words. He hadn’t said he wouldn’t like to live with Dirk. If Dirk still lived in town and weren’t with Miranda, would Rowan jump ship?

  Rowan added, “I like living with you, Mom.”

  I reached across to squeeze his knee, grateful that he wasn’t itching to leave me. “Well, good, honey, because I love living with you.”

  At least one person in town still loved me. I could make do with that.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  GRACE

  The same Thursday afternoon

  Rehab facility

  I didn’t glance over my shoulder until after I could no longer hear Mimi’s heels clicking against the tile floor. Cold tears trailed down my cheeks, and my chest ached as if a part of it had been scooped out. Everything I’d always loved about her had been on display—her big heart, her willingness to work hard to solve problems, her genuine kindness. Even when she’d taken that swipe at me, conflict had flashed in her eyes.

  Her direct hit smarted more than she’d ever know. On the upside, that sting confirmed that I wasn’t half-dead. She wasn’t wrong, either. We’d all made mistakes. I didn’t need her and Sam reminding me of the obvious. But there were degrees of blame. She hadn’t thought it would hurt anyone to let her son and his friends party at her home now and then, but that wasn’t the point. I hadn’t meant to let my sister down, either, but I did. When you do something you know to be wrong and people end up hurt, you shouldn’t let yourself off easy. Of course, maybe my never letting myself—or anyone—off ever wasn’t the best approach, either.

  I glanced over my shoulder, then frowned when she wasn’t standing by the door. Not that I’d expected her to wait for me. God, what a wreck I was, pushing her away yet wishing for another option. If Carter’s injuries had been less serious, my anger might’ve subsided by now. But here we were, in rehab hell for the foreseeable future. With so many open questions about Carter’s prognosis, this wasn’t the time for wistful longing for my friendship, no matter how much her pleas wormed beneath my skin and tucked themselves near my heart.

  My phone rang. I checked in case Sam needed someth
ing, but it was Carrie. I set the phone down without answering, too drained for another conversation. Friends like Carrie had been kind, sending a meal and touching base by email, but none had gone out of their way to organize help like Mimi had. And Mimi’d done that despite all the online barbs thrown her way. She was much tougher than me. She must love my family to put herself in this position. How could people not notice her extraordinary kindness?

  The notification for a voice mail appeared, so I hit “Play.”

  “Grace, it’s Carrie. I’m sure you’ve got your hands full, but I wanted to give you a heads-up so you aren’t blindsided. The board voted to uphold its original budget. I can’t believe we lost to that Mimi and the rest, but we did. Anyway, hope you’re doing okay and that Carter is coming along. Talk later.”

  I punched “Delete” before setting the phone back on the table. The light in the cafeteria seemed to dim as my fists quietly hammered the edge of the table.

  Another loss. Not that the budget mattered nearly as much as Carter’s well-being, but dammit, would I never catch a lucky break?

  Meanwhile, others moved on and celebrated their wins—be it the budget or a reduced sentence—while Carter remained in this institution night after night thanks to that damned board meeting. Another mistake to add to my pile. Self-doubt and loathing had become my shadow companions. This newest blow intensified my desire to burn everything down.

  Assuming Mimi and Rowan had left the facility by now, I returned to Carter’s room, hiding my unhappiness. Every single wince, moan, and grunt he made when adjusting positions or getting to the restroom reinforced the rightness of my intentions. The only complication was the fact that his mood had improved after talking with Rowan.

  “Mom, you should ask Mrs. Gillette for the recipe for these protein bars. They’re really good.” He broke another section off. “Not dry and crumbly like store-bought ones.”

  “Sure, honey,” I answered half-heartedly, unfairly angry with Mimi for being thoughtful, as if she’d done it on purpose to make me feel guilty instead of having done it because she was, in fact, kind.

  After he swallowed, he stole a look at me. He hesitated before asking, “Are you mad?”

  “What?” I sat forward.

  He wrinkled his nose, wary. “I don’t blame you for being mad at me, you know.”

  I frowned. “Why would I be mad at you?”

  He laid his head back against the pillow, eyelids half-mast. “Because you warned me about going to the party, but I went anyway. Now I’ve messed up everything, including our family.” His voice was soaked in sorrow.

  Had he carried this guilt around for the past two weeks? I scoured my memory in search of anything I’d said or done to give that impression.

  “Honey, no. I’m mad at myself—I’m the grown-up. I should’ve put my foot down about the party. And if I’d stayed out of the budget business, those boys wouldn’t have been picking on you. Honestly, if anyone has the right to be mad, it’s you.” My voice cracked. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  He nodded. “You did what you thought was right. That’s what you always tell us to do, so how can I be mad? I should’ve left Rowan’s when things got crazy. It’s not your fault this happened.”

  This amazing kid. I tried to smile when I grabbed his hand. “You astound me. Not once have you lashed out. You’re very strong, Carter. Much stronger than I am. But, honey, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t drink, and you didn’t antagonize anyone. You’re innocent, and it’s okay to want justice.”

  “Justice?”

  “Yes. John and Deshaun should pay for what they did. You can talk to the DA about the impact this has on you so that they get a sentence commensurate with the harm they caused.” I could still picture Roni’s face in the school parking lot—her certainty of a plea bargain.

  Carter looked down as if considering my opinion, then half shrugged. “That won’t help me walk. Dad says the best thing I can do to speed up my recovery is to focus on my therapy and school. That makes sense to me.”

  Dad says. His dad had also said we should let him go to the party, and look at how that had turned out.

  Carter’s eyebrows drew together, and he picked at the blanket. “Plus, if I make enemies, it’ll be harder to go back to school.”

  Seeing him suppress doing what was right to avoid stirring the pot was like looking in the mirror at my teen self. I didn’t want my son to be haunted by my regrets down the road. “Is letting them off easy what you want, or are you doing that out of fear?”

  He sighed as if he wasn’t sure how to express himself. “I’m not saying they weren’t jerks, ’cause they were. Drunk, obnoxious jerks. But making things worse for them doesn’t change my situation. And who knows? Maybe my attitude will make a good impression on people.”

  His wanting admiration from those unworthy of him made my insides quake, but I wouldn’t shake his confidence, which he’d need to recover. I’d have to make peace with his choice. “It sounds like you and your father have made a decision.” My tone might’ve been clipped.

  Carter narrowed his eyes. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

  “You can always ask me anything.”

  His expression turned serious. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Really tense. I know you’re worried about me, but are you okay?”

  “Of course,” I answered automatically, beating myself up anew for how my personal problems created added stress.

  “Honest? ’Cause you’ve been sort of stiff with Dad. And you avoided Rowan and Mrs. Gillette.”

  Observant children made parenting trickier. I loved that he cared about me, yet his concern made me want to cry. “I’m not myself right now because these are exceptional circumstances. I miss having you at home and am focused on doing everything possible to help you. If I’m acting strange, it’s because I’m still figuring things out, but I’ll be okay.” Please let that be true. God, help me make that true.

  “I want things to be normal . . .” He toyed with the sheets, folding them at his hips. “You and Dad haven’t come together all week, and you both look sad.”

  I hadn’t realized how poorly I’d been hiding my misery. “We’re sad because you’re in pain. We take turns visiting so you have company throughout each day.”

  He shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “Honey, please don’t worry about anything other than getting stronger.” I squeezed his hand again.

  “Okay.”

  “Good.” I stood before he could see through my facade—the false certainty that our family would make it through this without damage. “Sorry to leave you, but Kim needs me, too. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

  He shook his head and patted the chemistry book at his side. “I’ve got a lab project to finish, and you can’t help with that.”

  A bitter reminder that the school labs wouldn’t be upgraded.

  “No, I sure can’t.” I kissed his head before smoothing his silky hair. “Love you. Keep up the hard work so you can come home soon. We all miss you so much.”

  “Trust me, I’m trying. Who knew I’d miss my own bed and Kim?” He rolled his eyes and smiled weakly.

  I couldn’t tell if he was putting on an act or if this trauma was turning him into a brave young man. “See you in the morning.”

  Sleet fell from the sky for the entire hour-long drive home. Perfect weather for my mood, not so much for highway driving. The incessant thunk-thunk of my wipers beat on my nerves. My jaw ached from clenching it with each repeated memory of Carrie’s voice mail and of Mimi’s face as she’d leveled me. I slammed my car door closed and entered the house.

  “Judy?” I called, walking through the kitchen in search of the after-school sitter we’d hired so my mother could go home. Thank God. Although we never fought, the stain of how she’d enabled my father and how we’d both failed Margot sat between us like a divider. Now I was erecting a similar barrier between Sam and me. Had I ever fixed things with my mom, I might no
w have the tools to forgive Sam and bridge our disagreements. I’d been so careful to avoid getting to this place with him, yet anger now thundered like an avalanche gathering speed.

  I found Judy—a leggy, freckled high school senior from our neighborhood with a charming smile—on the sofa doing homework in front of the TV.

  “Oh, hi.” She started to pack her things. “How’s Carter?”

  “Doing better, thanks. Where’s Kim?”

  “In her room.”

  “Did she start her homework?”

  “I think so.” When she stood to go, I handed her thirty dollars. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Great.” She tucked the bills in her jeans’ pocket before I escorted her to the door.

  “Have a good night.” I closed the door and leaned back against it. My body felt like a dishrag wrenched dry from my afternoon conversations. If I could melt onto the floor and disappear, I might’ve done so. Anything to escape this constant sense of failure.

  The dormant piano called to me. I hadn’t played since Carter’s accident—a noticeable change. My students would be resuming their lessons next week. Perhaps returning some sense of normalcy to my life would help me push forward. For now, I sat at the keyboard and softly brushed my fingers against the cool keys.

  Setting my right foot on the damper, I played the opening notes of the second movement of Bach’s Prelude in B Minor. A contemplative piece that put my confusion, heartache, and desire for healing to sound. The piano had always subdued the shame and pain of my dad’s addiction, of my mother’s unwillingness to leave him, and of Margot’s slide into the abyss. But Bach wasn’t loosening the chains around my heart now, so I stopped, set my forehead to the music rack with my eyes closed, and let the silence consume me.

  Kim and I had eaten the lasagna that Missy Fletcher had sent over and finished the dishes by the time Sam came home. He’d been working later to make up for the days he’d taken off, and because tax season was coming. After contemplating Carter’s and Mimi’s comments about my marriage all afternoon, I’d committed to turning the tide. Thankfully, Kim had retreated to her room after dinner.