if she hadn’t discovered it so soon.
Red shudders.
Pixel nudges his nose
into her palm.
Her mom says she knows Red meant no harm.
She knows it only happened
because she was sick.
And she wishes more than anything
that Red could spend Christmas with them.
But she can’t put Red’s little sisters in jeopardy.
So Red will have to check herself
into a hospital in L.A.
and get back on her medication
before she can let her come home.
Her Mom’s Crying Now
I can hear her sniffling.
And so is Red.
“Can’t I speak to my daughter?
Just for a minute?
So I can
hear her voice?
So I can tell her how much
we all love her and miss her?”
But Red shakes her head no
and turns away.
After I Say Good-Bye
And switch off the phone,
Red tells me she doesn’t blame her mom
for not wanting her to come home.
Then she tells me about the fire.
She tells me
that The Duke said the curtains
were crawling with tarantulas
and had to be destroyed.
She tells me that Lana said
she’d seen eleven crows that day.
That the crows were a sign
that the curtains were cursed.
“But it wasn’t The Duke and Lana
who lit the match,” Red says.
“It was me.
That’s why I ran away.
I was afraid, if I stayed,
the next time I might not be so lucky.
The next time I might really hurt
my family.”
Red Wraps Her Arms Around Herself
Like she feels
a sudden chill.
She turns abruptly and begins walking
toward Ocean Avenue,
almost as if
she’s in a trance.
The city is awake now,
the traffic picking up.
I hurry after her,
Pixel trotting along at my side.
Suddenly Red whirls around
to face me.
“I’m sorry,” she says
in this weird strangled voice,
“but I’ve got to go.
The Duke and Lana are telling me . . .
They’re telling me to run out
into the middle of the street . . .
Telling me not to be scared . . .
That it won’t even hurt . . .
That it will all be over in a minute . . .”
My Blood Freezes
Red’s face has gone oddly blank.
Like she’s here.
But she’s not.
“Lana says the omens are perfect, . . .”
she murmurs. “The Duke says
it’s time for me to make my royal exit . . .”
She turns away from me again
and continues heading toward the road,
picking up speed with each step.
I dart past her and sprint to the sidewalk,
positioning myself between her
and the traffic.
Pixel dashes along next to her,
barking and nipping at the cuff of her jeans.
But she just shoos him away,
without even glancing down.
Now Red Breaks into a Run
I’m as tense as an arrow
just before its release.
I steal a glance over my shoulder
at Ocean Avenue—
there’s a moving van barreling
down the road from the right!
A bus and two taxis,
coming from the other direction!
“Stop!” I scream at Red,
just before she reaches me.
She tries to swerve around me
to the left,
but I lunge forward
and grab her by her shoulders.
She struggles to escape,
but my fingers have turned to iron.
“You don’t have to do what they say, Red!
The Duke and Lana—they’re just voices!
Just voices inside your head!”
Her Eyes . . .
They’re so wide . . . so lost . . .
She blinks at me in confusion.
“They’re . . . they’re just voices . . .
They’re not real . . . ?”
“No. But you are, Red!
You are!
And I . . . I wouldn’t be able to deal with it
if I lost you.
Not after what happened with Noah.
I just couldn’t handle it.”
Red’s staring at me now.
Staring at me so intently.
Then she blinks again, and the confusion
in her eyes dissolves like a mist.
She reaches up
and covers my hands with hers.
“Please,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Call 911.”
Keeping a Tight Hold on Her Hand
I walk her over to a bench
that’s in the middle
of the park,
at a safe distance from the street,
and also from the edge of the cliff.
Just to be on the extra safe side.
Then I pull out my phone and switch it on,
my other hand clamped tightly around hers,
praying there’s enough battery . . .
There’s still 7 percent left!
I punch in the number
and tell them where we are.
Then I switch it off again
and we wait together in silence,
looking out at the ocean,
my hand
never loosening its grip
on hers.
The Ambulance Arrives Five Minutes Later
I ask Red if I can ride
to the hospital with her.
But she gives me a quick fierce hug
and says, “I have to do this alone.”
“Well, not entirely alone,” she adds,
with an exaggerated wink.
And I know exactly
who she’s referring to.
Pixel puts his paws up,
resting them on her knees.
She lifts him into her lap and gives his
secret sweet spot one last scratch.
He gives her cheek a little lick,
as if to say, “You’re doing the right thing.
But I’m sure gonna miss you.”
She kisses him on the top of his head.
Then she hands him to me,
stands up from the bench,
and does one of those
funny little curtsies of hers.
She walks
over to the ambulance,
climbs into the back of it,
and a second later,
it starts to rain.
This Isn’t Just a Sprinkle
It’s a full-on drencher—
torrential, epic, cleansing.
I splash over to the ambulance,
with Pixel cradled in my arms.
Red peers down at us
as we stand here getting soaked.
“Wet enough for you?” she says.
“Is it wet enough for you?” I say.
“A little too wet.”
“Not for me. I love it!”
We smile at each other,
remembering our very first conversation.
Then the paramedics hoist Red’s stroller
up to her, swing the door closed,
and take her
away,
cruising down Ocean Avenue
in the back of the silent amb
ulance,
leaving Pixel and me
to stare after the flashing red lights
till they turn the corner
and disappear.
A Second Later
The downpour stops,
just as quickly as it began.
Like someone
has switched off a giant faucet.
I know my clothes
must be soaked through.
But for some strange reason,
I can barely feel them.
I shift my gaze away from the corner
and notice Red’s bike leaning against a palm.
I’ll need to call a friend
to help me get it back to Cristo’s . . .
In a fog,
I pull out my phone.
But then I remember:
Red’s my only friend.
And now—
she’s gone.
My Parents Pick Up on the Very First Ring
They tell me
that they’ve been worried sick.
That they’ve been calling me
all night.
But that their calls kept going
straight to voice mail.
I apologize
and tell them that I’m fine.
That I switched off my phone
because my battery was about to die.
That I’ve found Pixel and he’s fine too,
but that I need a little help.
Then I tell them where I am
and hang up.
I glance at the time.
Can it really only be nine o’clock?
It feels like a lifetime has passed
since sunrise.
And That’s When I Realize
How terribly tired I am.
So tired my legs can barely hold me.
I plunk down onto
the nearest bench
and press my face
into Pixel’s damp fur.
Then I look out
at the water,
at the heavy gray clouds
reflected in its surface.
And then over at the pier
and at the Ferris wheel . . .
And suddenly I’m thinking of Cristo.
And of his unexplained silence.
And of how much
I miss him.
A Few Minutes Later
Mom and Dad pull up
in their ancient Volvo,
with their coats thrown on
over their pajamas.
They leap out of the car and wrap
Pixel and me into the kind of hug
that sorta makes you feel
like you’re a little kid again.
A part of me wants to surrender to it—
to just let them take me home and tuck
me into bed and feed me a nice hot bowl
of matzo ball soup.
But another part of me
wants to shove them away,
wants to punish them for leaving me
alone with Noah last New Year’s Eve.
It’s like there’s this gigantic tug-of-war
going on inside of me,
and I’m not sure which team
to root for.
When My Parents Finally Let Go of Me
They take a closer look at me.
“You got your hair done,” Mom says. “It’s pretty!”
“It makes you look so grown up . . . ,” Dad says.
But I ignore their compliments
and tell them I need their help getting
a bicycle back to the person I borrowed it from.
Dad asks me who was riding it.
And for the first time in forever,
he doesn’t seem distracted.
He seems totally focused on me—
like he’s actually interested in hearing
the answer to his question.
But I just tell him it’s a long story,
give him Cristo’s address,
explain where the key’s hidden,
and ask him to take Pixel
with him in the car, and wait for
Mom and me in the backyard.
Then I Leap onto My Bike
And race off,
leaving her to scramble onto Red’s bike
and try to catch up with me.
I’m not even sure why I’m doing this.
Maybe I just want to make things
as hard for her as she’s made them for me.
I pedal faster and faster.
“Wait!” I hear her call after me.
“Molly! Wait up!”
But that
only makes me feel
like pedaling even faster.
And somehow,
the more furiously I pedal,
the more furious I become.
Pretty Soon
It starts to feel like
there’s a bonfire raging in my chest—
blazing with a single searing question.
And if I don’t get an answer,
get an answer right now,
I’ll be consumed by the flames.
So I screech to a halt,
whip my bike around,
and wait for Mom to catch up with me.
When she finally does,
wheezing to a stop in front of me,
I don’t waste any time.
“Why did you do it?” I snarl.
“Do what?” she asks,
still trying to catch her breath.
“Why did you and Dad leave me
in charge of Noah last New Year’s Eve
when I was only a kid?”
Her eyes widen for a second.
Then she squeezes them shut,
drops her chin to her chest,
and reaches up
to rake her fingers
through her hair.
When She Opens Her Eyes Again
She looks
right into mine.
“Because we were stupid,” she says.
“We were stupid and selfish
and the strain of Noah being so sick
had been hard on our marriage.
But your father and I,
we wanted to . . . No.
We needed to stay together.
For you.
We shouldn’t have asked you
to watch Noah.
But it was New Year’s Eve,
and we just wanted to have
one happy night together.
Just one happy night . . . ,”
she repeats, with a sad little laugh.
“But it didn’t exactly work out that way.”
I Can Feel Her Words
Feel them
trying to penetrate me,
trying to burrow under my skin.
But I shake them off
and start shooting questions at her
like bullets:
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?
Why didn’t you ever apologize?
Why didn’t you ever explain?”
“You never . . . asked?” she says lamely.
“And . . . and you had Pixel . . .
You seemed . . . You seemed okay.”
“Okay? I was anything but okay.
Though I guess everything seems ‘okay’
when you’re high all the time.”
We stare at each other
in silence then,
for a long moment.
My mother seems to be shrinking
right before my eyes.
Shrinking into herself.
Then, in a voice
just above a whisper,
she says, “Well, I’m not stoned now.
And last night, when we couldn’t
reach you, when I thought that I might
have lost both my children,
lost my favorite girl in all the world
because I was too out of it to be there
for y
ou when you needed me most,
I flushed all my pot down the toilet.”
I Refuse to Cry . . . I Absolutely Refuse!
“You’ll just go buy some more,”
I say through gritted teeth,
“the first chance you get.”
“No,” she says, “I won’t.
Though I’m sure I’ll be tempted to.
I’m already tempted to.
When you’ve been high as long as I have,
reality seems so . . . so damn real . . .
So real it hurts . . .”
“Poor you,” I say,
“having to deal with how painful
things actually are.”
She doesn’t say anything.
She just sort of winces—and suddenly
I feel a little ashamed of myself . . .
Then she climbs off Red’s bike,
leans it against the nearest palm tree,
walks back over to me, and says,
“Your dad and I should
have apologized to you, Molly.
We should have apologized ages ago.
I don’t know why we didn’t . . .
Maybe because an apology
would also have had to be a confession—
an acknowledgment that Noah’s
disappearance was our fault.
Ours.
Not yours.”
Then She Heaves a Ragged Sigh
And says, “I don’t blame you
for being so mad at me.
I’m mad at me too.
I did the best I could
after Noah disappeared.
I guess we all did.
But
my best
was pretty pitiful.
So I’m going to try to do better.
Try to do much better—
starting today.
I am so sorry, Molly.
I’m as sorry as a person
could possibly be.
I am filled
to the brim
with sorry.
And
I hope someday
you can forgive me.”
I Let My Mother’s Words
Sink
into
me.
I
let
them
sink
into
me
and wash
all through me
like rainwater . . .
cooling down
my anger and my
resentment . . .
Then
I swallow hard