The Moment Between

by Nicole Baart

  Frantic to fill the quiet void and banish thoughts of Hailey, Abigail clutched at the first thing that came to mind. She held on tight and let the present pull her sharply from the past. “Does it bother Eli that you didn’t go to church with him this morning?”

  “Nah, he doesn’t care what I do with my Sundays. He just doesn’t want the winery open.”

  “Doesn’t that hurt business?”

  “Sure it does, but Eli doesn’t care. Thompson Hills is a relatively small operation, and Eli has no desire to expand it.”

  Abigail did not ask why Eli wasn’t motivated by the all-too-familiar concept of bigger equals better. Her boss struck her as a rather simple, uncomplicated man. It made sense to her that he balked at the idea of changing anything. In a way, she admired him for it.

  “You’re cleaning barrels these days, aren’t you?” Tyler asked.

  “Yeah. Messy job.”

  “Well, our storage bins are nothing compared to what the big wineries use. Their barrels are steel or even plastic, and they hold so many liters you have to climb inside to wash them out by hand. Then they have these little sprinklers that you set in the tank to disinfect it with a special cleaning solution. Our small operation is kind of homespun in comparison.” Tyler shook his head as if he didn’t quite understand. But then he laughed and said, “Eli likes things just the way they are. He wants to be involved in every part of his winery.”

  Abigail nodded, watching the intermittent traffic through the fractured veins intersecting the pickup’s cracked windshield.

  Tyler glanced at her before looking both ways and coasting through a stop sign. “My uncle likes things uncomplicated. Straightforward.”

  Something in Tyler’s voice made Abigail turn. He was finally giving the road his full attention, and she was free to just take him in. Abigail didn’t have to wonder why Hailey had found him so attractive. Tyler was gorgeous. And though she hated to admit it, he stirred up so many emotions in her she didn’t know how to begin to unknot them. Fear, uncertainty, and anger were the most prominent threads, but here and now, sitting so close to him as a secret little smile pulled on his lips, Abigail felt something else rising in her. It was buoyant somehow, a sort of dizzying vertigo that filled her head and pressed against the backs of her eyes as she stared over the edge of something that she didn’t understand.

  “Are you like your uncle?” Abigail asked slowly.

  “Nope,” Tyler replied, still staring straight ahead. But then he grinned, and Abigail whipped her head back to the road as if she had been caught in the act of doing something wrong.

  Tyler ignored her obvious discomfort and put his hand on the seat between them. He snaked his fingers toward her legs and stopped mere inches from the curve of her thigh, then picked at what looked like a cigarette burn in the charcoal fabric. There was a suggestive undercurrent in his voice when he said, “I tend to like my life much more messy.”

  †

  Hailey managed to stay relatively mess-free for almost a year after her confirmation. Or so it seemed to everyone around her.

  She transitioned to high school rather well and managed to channel much of her energy into the healthy outlets of soccer in the fall, basketball throughout the winter, and softball when spring rains thawed the ground. The medications were second nature and the appointments with Dr. Madsen were habitual, but from the outside

  looking in, they seemed to be a far cry from the colossal experiences that they had been in years past.

  Everyone in the Bennett house fell gratefully into their prescribed roles for this new chapter of their lives. Especially Lou. He had partially retired years earlier, but when Hailey entered high school and found her identity as an all-around athlete, he finally sold his gaudy pickup and signed over the rights to his Handy Lou logo and the memorable phone number. Melody cried a little over the end of an era, but Lou was elated. For the first time in his life, the handyman became the full-time and fully devoted father of a seemingly whole and healthy daughter. He didn’t miss a single one of Hailey’s games.

  Abby missed most of them. Her daydreams of post–high school autonomy evolved into a daily reality, and she was not about to give it up. With her sister on the right track at last, Abby could hour by hour and day by day untangle herself from her stifling familial role. And that’s exactly what she did.

  Hailey went to confession once a week. Abby stopped going to church. Hailey spent her weekends in uniform, sweating out her aggressions on a field or a court. Abby loosened up for one of the first times in her life and spent her Fridays playing pool with a short parade of different boyfriends—most of them didn’t know how to play pool, but they did know how to kiss. Hailey shifted into the role of a good daughter, and Abby happily took her place on the outskirts.

  It wasn’t that Abby was particularly bad or that Hailey became a saint overnight, but Lou and Melody transferred the source of their worry from younger daughter to older. In truth, it was a welcome transition. Abby’s young adult blunders were so normal, so blessedly average and ordinary, that when Abby routinely slipped into the house after 2 a.m. on weekend nights, Melody only rolled over in her sleep, half-annoyed but mostly thankful to know that her daughter was finally home. Lou didn’t even stir.

  I should have gone to Florida, Abby thought on a dozen occasions. Hailey would have been just fine without me.

  But by the spring of Hailey’s freshman year, Abby knew that peace had been an illusion. She knew that Hailey would not have been just fine without her. Not at all.

  The first time she caught a glimpse of the old Hailey, the frantic young woman who had all but disappeared after her last suicide attempt and her older sister’s compulsory decision to stay in Newcastle, it filled Abby with such a fast-bleeding dread it stunned her. Abby felt as if she were perched on the peak of a mountain, looking down at the depths that were to come with a mixture of raw fear and bottomless loathing. Somehow the continual uphill climb of months past had caused her to forget how far they had come, how far Hailey had come. It was a long way down.

  It was the weekend after Hailey’s fifteenth birthday when Abby first doubted that her sister was as steady, healthy, and well as she seemed to be. Hailey’s newfound stability had caused her parents to relax their anxious hold on her, and they didn’t stop to question anything when their youngest daughter asked permission to attend a small get-together at a friend’s house. She was smart enough not to call it a party, and since Lou and Melody had never had trouble with an adolescent Abby, they didn’t think to ask.

  Abby was oblivious about the arrangement. She didn’t see her sister leave the house early or come home late. She didn’t make a mental note of the way Hailey’s tank top dipped dangerously low beneath a gray hoodie that could easily be discarded the moment she walked out the door. But when Abby herself crept home well past midnight and tiptoed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, she almost tripped over Hailey huddled in the darkness.

  “What in the . . . ?” Abby muttered, stumbling headlong into a warm body crouched in the pitch-black bathroom. Her heart leaped into her throat, and although she couldn’t utter another word, she automatically edged the door closed with her hip and flicked on the bathroom light.

  Hailey was rising from the floor, one hand over her mouth and a wicked grin glinting in the narrow slits of her squinted eyes. Without looking away from Abby, she reached over and flushed the toilet. The lid was down and Abby couldn’t see anything in the porcelain bowl, but an unmistakable acrid scent hung in the air.

  “Are you okay?” Abby asked in confusion. The lump in her throat made her whisper barely audible. “You scared me half to death.”

  Nodding, Hailey turned on the tap and swung the handle all the way to the right, as cold as it would go. “I’m fine,” she said. And then she began to giggle.

  All at once, Abby knew why Hailey was sneaking around the bathroom in the middle of the night, why the room smelled sickly sweet, why Hailey seemed to t
eeter from heel to toe and back again. She was close enough to touch, and Abby grabbed her shoulders, ignoring the running faucet and spinning her sister around in one firm movement.

  “What have you done?” Abby growled.

  Water dripped from Hailey’s hands and formed droplets on the wet skin of her lovely face. She giggled again and blinked water from her eyes. “Hey,” she moaned, drawing out the word. “Hey, come on. Cool it.”

  Alcohol was rife on Hailey’s breath, and Abby pushed her away in disgust. But she didn’t leave. Blocking the door with her body, Abby crossed her arms in front of her and confronted her sister. “You’re insane. Dad is going to skin you alive.”

  Hailey leaned over the sink again, splashing her face with abandon and splattering the mirror. “Uh-uh,” she hummed in a singsong voice that was just a smidge too loud to ensure the rest of the house would remain asleep.

  Abby turned off the tap with a yank. Throwing a hand towel at Hailey, she whispered, “Be quiet, you idiot. You’ll wake them up.”

  “Dad was awake when I got home,” Hailey said, her voice muffled by the towel but still too loud. She dropped her hands from her face and fixed Abby with a disbelieving look. “He didn’t even know.”

  He knew, Abby thought. He just didn’t want to face it. To Hailey she said, “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

  “Having fun.”

  “You’re fifteen.”

  “I feel eighteen,” Hailey shot back. She put a hand on her slim waist and struck a pose far too seductive for her young age.

  “I don’t care what you feel like.” Abby gripped Hailey’s chin in her hand and said, “You’re sleeping in my room tonight. This is not over.”

  Hailey put a finger to her lips and widened her eyes conspiratorially. “Like a secret sleepover,” she slurred.

  “No, not like a secret sleepover. You’re sleeping on the floor. And when you sober up, I’m going to strangle you.”

  Hailey didn’t throw up again that night, but she did more or less pass out on the floor the moment Abby dropped her there. Abby didn’t even bother to get her a pillow; she figured the hard floor and scratchy carpet were a just consequence for coming home drunk. Though an uncomfortable night and a stiff morning were only the beginning of what Abby had in store for her.

  Abby heard her parents get up around seven thirty the next morning, and she dragged herself out of bed so that she could cover for Hailey. Her actions seemed sisterly, but she was really trying to preserve the situation so she could handle it on her own. Abby knew that if her parents learned what Hailey had been up to the night before, Lou would defend his baby and Melody would just cry. They’d worry and fret, then sweep everything under the rug like they always did. Abby wasn’t about to let that happen this time. Not when so much calm and constancy hung in the balance. And certainly not when she had forfeited her own future, her own dream of freedom and Florida to stay home and safeguard her sister from this exact sort of thing.

  Lou and Melody bought Abby’s story about Hailey feeling ill in the middle of the night because they wanted to. Melody even made a tray for Hailey: a piece of buttered toast, a few dry crackers, and a small glass of 7UP that she let stand on the counter until it was room temperature and the bubbles were gone.

  “Should I bring it to her?” Melody asked, lifting the tray from the counter and seeking permission from Abby with her eyes.

  “No. She’s still sleeping. Let her sleep.”

  Melody lowered the tray slowly, letting her fingers linger against the edges as if she were imparting a blessing over the food. “Let her sleep,” she echoed.

  After breakfast, Lou and Melody took off to the grocery store, and Abby mounted the stairs to wake the hungover Hailey. But before she left the kitchen, she threw Melody’s lovingly prepared sour-stomach breakfast in the garbage and poured the pop down the sink. No free handouts. Not this time.

  Stomping down the short second-floor hallway, Abby banged her bedroom door open and flicked on the lights. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she called, her voice thick with irony. Then she pulled the curtains open and flopped down on her bed, throwing a pillow at Hailey’s prostrate form. When she didn’t move, Abby gave her back a little nudge with her pointed toe.

  Hailey groaned and rolled into a fetal position, grabbing her head in her hands. “I have a headache.”

  “I’m sure you do. Too bad. Get up.”

  “No,” Hailey complained. “You can’t make me.”

  That was enough to annihilate Abby’s short fuse. Bending over, she gripped her sister under the arms and heaved her into a sitting position. “Get up,” she commanded again.

  Rubbing her face and glaring at Abby, Hailey scooted away from the bed until her back was against the wall. She slouched there and glowered at Abby with swollen eyes. “What’s your problem?”

  “You,” Abby spat out cruelly. But Hailey cut such a pathetic form huddled in the corner that she regretted the insult immediately. Her anger leveled out a bit, and she sank to the floor so she could walk on her knees to Hailey. “What are you doing?” she asked, so desperate and furious her voice cracked.

  “What do you mean?” Hailey drew into the corner a little more.

  “You know exactly what I mean. You’ve had such a great year. Why would you chance ruining it?”

  “By drinking?” Hailey asked as if she still didn’t understand.

  Abby threw her arms up in exasperation. “Yes, by drinking.” And then she caught sight of a small bruise at the nape of Hailey’s neck. Reaching over, she yanked down the collar of Hailey’s pink pajamas and gaped. “You have a hickey?” she demanded in an entirely different decibel.

  “Chill out.” Hailey pushed Abby’s hand away and realigned her pajamas to cover the mark. “It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal? No big deal?” Abby hurled herself to her feet so she could pace the room. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “Having fun?”

  “No!” Abby yelled, spinning around. “You’re ruining everything! Again!” Her words hung heavy in the air.

  Hailey stared at Abby in shock, her look betraying that her worst fears had just been confirmed. Cracks appeared in her tough exterior, and she quickly closed her eyes before Abby could see the damage that she had done.

  “Hailey,” Abby started, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yes, you did,” Hailey whispered.

  “No, I didn’t. I’m just angry—”

  “You don’t understand.”

  Abby towered over her sister, but she didn’t dare sit down. “What don’t I understand?”

  Hailey paused.

  Though she had to fight the urge to keep talking, Abby waited. She examined the jagged line of the part on Hailey’s head and traced it back and forth, back and forth. She noticed the tangles, the stringy clumps of hair that needed hot water and a good shampoo. The peculiar jumble of Hailey’s reticence and this small, mundane sign of her basic need troubled Abby. She wished she could give her little sister one do-over. One chance to go back and make the right decision the second time around.

  “What don’t I understand?” Abby prodded.

  “It’s too hard,” Hailey said suddenly. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend. I can’t hold it in. I know you all want me to be good—”

  “You are good,” Abby interrupted.

  “Shut up!” Hailey scowled at Abby. “You all want me to be good and I just can’t. Sometimes I just get so angry . . . and so sad. . . .”

  Abby waited a few breaths before lowering herself carefully to the floor. “But you’ve been doing so well,” she said, trying to urge Hailey on.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have. You’ve had such a great year. You’re on all those teams . . . and you got confirmed last fall. You even go to confession. Not many people do that.”

  “Not many people have to.”

  Abby didn’t know what to say.
The sisters sat in silence for a while, Hailey hugging her knees and Abby inexplicably wanting to hug Hailey, even though only minutes before she had wanted to throttle her.

  “Help me understand,” Abby finally said. “I want to understand.”

  Hailey met her gaze and looked deep, apparently probing her to see if she truly meant what she said and if she could handle it. She seemed more or less satisfied, but before she began to talk, she laid her cheek on her knees and looked away from Abby.

  “The meds help,” she started, staring at the wall. “So does soccer. And basketball, but softball is a bore. I hate it. I only do it because Dad likes to watch me play.”

  “See,” Abby ribbed gently, “you are good.”

  Hailey ignored her. “But what I do and the way I feel are usually two very different things.” She grappled for the right words.

  “Yeah,” Abby murmured, hoping it was enough encouragement for Hailey to go on.

  “Sometimes I feel this weight on my heart—like, I can physically feel it—and it’s so heavy I’m surprised that I can even sit up. And sometimes I just . . . I just want to hurt someone.” Hailey swallowed so hard Abby could hear it. “I want to hurt myself.”

  No, no, no, Abby screamed wordlessly. Not this again! But she tried to keep her face neutral, tried to keep listening instead of analyzing so Hailey would continue to talk.

  When Abby didn’t say anything, Hailey went on. “But then there are times I feel good, too. Like when we almost went to state for basketball, I was high for a week. I thought I could win all those games by myself if they’d just get everyone else off the court.”

  “So you cling to those times,” Abby said, unable to contain herself anymore. It was so black-and-white to her, so easy to determine the cause of the problem and then root it out. Why couldn’t Hailey kick this thing? Why couldn’t Hailey just be normal?

  “It’s not like that.” Hailey cupped her head and whimpered. “My head hurts so bad.”

  “Then don’t ever do this again.”