Best Behavior

by Wendy Francis

  “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going,” her mom says. “Roger, you might have to take over.”

  But her dad shakes his head helplessly, as if he can’t possibly be asked to be a part of this, his wife’s untimely demise.

  “No!” Dawn shouts, unprovoked, and her parents turn to her, alarmed by her sudden outburst. But it’s her own scream of frustration—at the beckoning Fates above, at her dad for being so hopeless in this moment when Lily needs him most, at her mom for saying she won’t be able to go on breathing for Lily, and for Lily, who seems to be slipping further and further away from them with each breath that eludes her.

  “Don’t you dare die on us, Lily.” Dawn leans in toward her now, as if they’re having a heart-to-heart conversation. “Don’t you dare. Do you hear me? We’re going to have lunch together, damn it. We’re going out for ice cream and cocktails and whatever else you want to do. You just have to wake up, okay? You have to start breathing! Please, Lily, please. Please breathe. We love you.”

  Dawn’s head drops into her hands, and she starts crying in earnest. Somehow, some way, she has had a hand in her stepmom’s death, she’s sure of it. Maybe if she’d been nicer these past few weeks, Lily wouldn’t have taken whatever drug it is that has caused her to overdose. Dawn is ashamed of how mean she’s been to her stepmom, especially when Lily has never been anything but nice to her, lending Dawn her Jeep, not freaking out when Dawn crashed the rear fender, offering her a glass of wine on the odd weekend when she came home, treating her to lunch. Maybe if Dawn had thought about someone else other than herself yesterday and today, Lily wouldn’t be in the mess that she’s currently in. Maybe if Dawn had stopped to ask her stepmom how she was doing, Dawn wouldn’t be by her side right now, pleading with her to breathe. To live.

  Just then, a small army of men and women dressed in white shirts and pants spreads over the backyard like picnic ants, armed with a stretcher and an enormous red toolbox that Dawn realizes is a first aid kit. Her mom steps out of the way as a paramedic with floppy blond hair slips an oxygen mask over Lily’s face, checks her pulse, and questions Meredith on what happened, what she has done up to this point. Each time she fills him in, he nods approvingly. He double-checks Lily’s pulse, shines a bright light into her pupils, and confirms the Narcan dosage that Meredith has administered.

  “You did well.” He lifts Lily’s arm and wraps a cuff around it, then prepares to give her a second dose of naloxone. The air is thick, silent. Deafening. Until that is, a small sputtering sound escapes from Lily’s lips, and her eyes shoot wide open. She tries to rip the oxygen mask from her face, but the medic steadies her hand, puts the mask gently back in place, and explains that it’s helping her to breathe right now and that she should relax. Lily gives a small nod and settles down for a moment. Dawn’s dad, still cradling her head in his hands, begins weeping into Lily’s hair. “You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetheart,” he repeats again and again. “It’s all right. Everything’s okay now. I’m right here.”

  “Oh, thank God, she’s all right,” someone from the crowd cries out. There’s hesitant, muted applause, as if people aren’t sure whether it’s appropriate to clap or not. Dawn watches as Lily struggles to sit up, seemingly dazed, trying to understand what has happened and why she’s surrounded by strangers with stethoscopes draped around their necks.

  But it’s all okay, Dawn thinks. Because Lily is alive.

  “You’re alive,” Dawn whispers, her voice incredulous.

  “Welcome back,” says the medic with the floppy hair. “You gave us quite a scare.”

  * * *

  Nurses aren’t supposed to get emotional. Meredith knows this, and yet this has been no ordinary rescue. She can’t believe how close they almost came to losing Lily, this woman who has been the bane of her weekend, and who now looks so fragile and vulnerable that Meredith searches for a blanket or towel to drape over her protectively. As soon as she saw Lily’s lips turning blue, her nursing instincts had kicked into full gear, the judgmental part of her brain clicking off. Nothing else mattered except making sure she survived. When she’d spotted Lily collapsed by the pool, not breathing, it was easy enough to put two and two together—the Pollyannaish attitude that Lily has managed to exude for the entire weekend, the contraband pills. Instead of being the source of her envy and anger, Lily is the one person in the family whom Meredith should have been worrying about all along. Not Dawn. Not Cody. Not even Joel.

  And as a nurse, she’s mortified that all the signs eluded her—the way Lily kept checking her watch at dinner last night before sneaking off to the ladies’ room or the way she kept scratching her arm, another sign of a junkie in need of a fix. She’d been so eager to find fault with Roger’s new wife that she’d neglected to see that some of Lily’s “faults” might actually be troubling signs of something else. Meredith may have administered the naloxone, but she did precious little to ensure that Lily wouldn’t need it in the first place.

  As the paramedics lift her onto a stretcher, there appears to be some confusion among the guests about what exactly has transpired. Meredith will leave it to Roger if he cares to explain or not. Then she remembers: the bottle of oxycodone! She runs back into the house to dig it out of the trash. At the very least, Roger needs to know the truth.

  Meredith and Joel accompany Roger while he trails the paramedics, who wheel Lily out to the ambulance.

  “Protocol,” the medic who appears to be in charge explains. “She’ll be fine. She’s lucky she had a nurse here to give her the naloxone.”

  They hoist the stretcher into the ambulance, but Lily’s hand reaches out unexpectedly for Meredith’s, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. “Thank you.” Her voice is thin, crackly through the mask.

  “You bet.” Meredith squeezes her hand back. “Get better soon.”

  “Yes, thank you, thank you both.” Roger clambers into the ambulance after her. His hair sticks out helter-skelter, his eyes swollen and red from crying.

  “I’ll check in with you later,” Meredith tells him, and sneaks him the bottle of oxycodone. “She’ll be okay now. She’s in good hands. And, Roger? Look after yourself. You’ve had a pretty good scare yourself.” He nods, but it’s not clear if her words even register. Her ex-husband still appears to be in shock.

  When the doors close, Joel gathers her into his arms, and Meredith lets herself collapse against the weight of him, the bulk of him. It’s exactly what she needs right now, this ballast that is her husband. She’s crying softly into his shirt, and he tells her everything is going to be all right, that she literally saved Lily’s life. “But I froze at first!” she says through her tears. “I should have figured out what was happening before she blacked out.”

  “Shh,” he tells her. “Don’t you dare feel guilty. You’re the hero here.” Gradually, her tears subside, and he lets her go, takes her hand. They wander around to the backyard, where most of the guests are gathering up their belongings, heading for their cars. Donna still roams about, refilling drinks and encouraging people to stay, but it’s clear that no one’s heart is in the party anymore. Meredith tells her not to bother—people should head home, and the graduates would prefer to rest, anyway. She grabs a trash bag and begins tossing discarded soda cans into it, but then stops when she realizes she has absolutely no interest in cleaning up right now. If necessary, she can ask Donna and her crew to come back tomorrow.

  “Joel, honey?” she asks, not entirely sure whether her husband is still within earshot. “Can we head back to the hotel?”

  But it’s Carol who responds. “I think that’s a splendid idea.” Meredith spins around, startled to discover her mom standing next to her and holding her bag.

  “Mom!” In the recent chaos, she has completely forgotten about Carol, who now gives her arm a small squeeze. “Where have you been, Mom?”

  Her mother smiles at her. “Watching you, honey. I’m so pro
ud of you,” she says. “Well done.”

  * * *

  Dawn nearly forgets to call Matt to tell him not to come to the house—the party is over. Kaput. She promises to fill him in on the details later, but she can’t bear to get into it over the phone. She goes over to hug her mom and tell her how incredible it was to watch her in action, saving a life.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, sweetie. You were critical, too,” says Meredith, hugging her back. “I couldn’t have done it without you. A lot of people panic under pressure, but you were amazing. You did everything you needed to.”

  “Thanks.” Dawn would be lying if she didn’t admit she’s a little proud of herself, too. Even though she still feels like a jerk for how she’s been treating Lily (and she’s resolved never to be mean to her again, unless, of course, she really deserves it), it’s nice to know that she can rise to the occasion, if needed. Maybe those few lifesaving breaths she blew into Lily’s lungs will help to slowly redeem herself in her stepmother’s eyes. It’s something to hope for, anyway. “Are you, like, okay?” she asks her mother now.

  Meredith’s expression widens in surprise, and Dawn feels a flicker of guilt that no one has thought to ask her mom this very question the entire weekend. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for asking. I’m just so relieved that Lily came back to us.”

  “Me, too,” says Dawn, though it sounds funny to hear those words coming from her mother, seeing as for most of the weekend neither Dawn nor her mom wanted to be anywhere near Lily. “So, it was an overdose, right?” It’s probably obvious, but she’d still like to hear it from an authority. Her mom nods.

  “Oxycodone. And to think I never once suspected Lily could be doing drugs. Only your brother.” She shakes her head.

  Dawn bites her lip. “It’s okay. None of us did. The important thing is she’s going to be all right.” She pauses. “Thanks to you.”

  “And you.” Her mom studies her face for a minute. “How about you? You okay? That was a pretty scary thing to be a part of.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Dawn doesn’t want to get into what a mess she really feels like, all the twisted-up knots inside of her. Instead, she says, “I think I’ll go find Cody. See how he’s doing.”

  “Good idea.” Meredith wipes her hands on the sides of her dress, probably as relieved as Dawn that they aren’t going to engage in a heart-to-heart discussion just yet. For the moment, her mom can chill.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Dawn locates her brother in the hammock under the maple tree. “Scoot over,” she says and hops up next to him, sending the hammock swaying.

  “Well, that was real, huh?” he says.

  “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” Her brother flicks her arm with his finger, an annoying habit he used to do when they were little.

  “You did good, Donny. You almost made me proud.” She grins at the half praise, which, she knows, is the most Cody’s willing to offer anyone these days.

  “Gee, thanks. What happened to you, by the way?”

  “I was on Moses duty. He wouldn’t shut up so I brought him into the house. By the time I got back to you guys, you were already breathing for Lily.”

  She tugs on the rope that swings the hammock from side to side and lets her eyes close, drifting off into space. There’s the sound of car doors slamming out front, probably the last of the revelers to go. The thrum of the waves on the beach floats up to the house. If she works hard enough, Dawn can almost imagine herself in Bora-Bora. She wonders if Lily will still be able to join them. Dawn has only a vague idea of what’s demanded of an addict to get clean, if that’s what they’re even talking about. Maybe Lily only tried heroin or oxy or whatever at the party and had a bad reaction, or maybe the drug was laced with something more powerful, like fentanyl. Maybe she’s not an addict at all.

  But the way her mom and dad were talking in hushed tones makes her think there’s more going on, that this is not Lily’s first foray over to the dark side.

  “Hey, guys. How are you holding up?” She cracks one eye open to find Joel standing above her, peering down at them. Even her unflappable stepdad looks exhausted, as if today has robbed him of every last ounce of energy. “Your mom, Nana, and I were thinking of heading back to the hotel. Do you guys want to come along? We can drop you back at school, too. You might still have some packing to do?”

  Dawn exchanges glances with her brother. “Um, I think we’ll hang here, if that’s all right. Make sure everyone is okay when they get home from the hospital.”

  Cody nods in agreement. “Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

  Joel glances back and forth between them. “You sure? They might keep Lily overnight for observation.” She can tell he’s worried that they’ve been traumatized, scarred by what they witnessed an hour ago. He’s cute when he dons his invisible counselor hat. “That was pretty scary,” he continues. “Dawn, you were incredible, by the way.”

  “Thanks. But, yeah, we’re good. We’ll just chill here for tonight.” She loves her stepdad, but she can’t get into it right now, won’t dissect her feelings about Lily’s overdose the way she knows he’ll want her to. Their little therapy session will have to wait till later.

  He takes a few steps back, as if deliberating whether he’s truly comfortable leaving them on their own. “Okay, if you say so,” he offers finally.

  “Oh, I want to say goodbye to Mom and Nana, though, before you go.”

  She tries to push herself out of the hammock, but it takes a few attempts—she’s like an awkward hermit crab working to escape from its shell. “Me, too,” says Cody, swinging his legs out much more gracefully.

  “Right, good idea.” Joel sounds relieved, happy even. As if this simple step will make the whole leave-taking that much easier for them all.

  And Dawn, for one, is all too glad to play along.

  NINETEEN

  Saturday evening

  Lily doesn’t remember much—only that while she was listening to Dawn prattle on about her boyfriend, she’d started to feel terribly sleepy and short of breath. Which seemed odd, given that all she was doing was sitting there. So, she’d ignored it. But then her fingers started to tingle, and her toes. And next thing she knew, she was lying on the pavement, staring up at Roger’s face.

  It must have been the oxycodone. Either she took too much, or the stuff she bought off Antonio was skunked. When she opens her eyes now, Roger is sitting beside her. “Hey, there,” he says softly, stroking her arm with his thumb.

  “Where are we?” Her throat is croaky, and she feels as if she’s surfacing from underwater, the whole world blurry and slightly out of reach.

  “We’re going to the hospital to make sure you’re all right. You passed out. You’re in an ambulance.”

  She nods her head, which sends a searing pain along the back of her head. Someone else, a medic, lifts her wrist to check her pulse.

  “What day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday, honey. Remember? The party?”

  The party? Oh right. They were having a party in the backyard for someone. But who? She can feel herself drifting off to sleep again but wants to ask Roger who the party was for. It seems important that she know this fact, and she tries desperately to form the words. But they’re gone before she can catch them, silver minnows swimming out of reach.

  When the ambulance jars with a bump, she startles awake again to find Roger turning a bottle over in his hands. It’s the oxycodone. He senses her watching him and holds it up for her to read the label. “Meredith found it in our bathroom,” he says. “Is this what you were taking?”

  “I think so.” She closes her eyes. She’s so very, very tired. She could probably sleep for a week, maybe an entire month.

  * * *

  The next time she wakes, the world has turned dark outside the window and she’s lying in what appears to be a hospital bed. The sheets are white
and starchy, and an antiseptic smell permeates the air. Roger, asleep in a chair next to her, opens his eyes as soon as she stirs.

  “Hi, love. You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

  Lily gauges her level of pain on a scale of one to ten, like doctors will ask a patient to do. She tells him that her head is definitely a ten.

  “Poor honey.” He offers her a cup of water with ice chips, and she sips gratefully. Apparently, she has a roommate because Family Feud blares from the TV on the wall. A light blue curtain divides the room, so she has no idea whether her roommate is old or young, kind or annoying. “Do you feel like talking about it?” Roger asks.

  She shakes her head, which sends streaks of light shooting through her brain, and her eyes well up with tears. Does she want to talk about it? About how she slipped a few of Roger’s painkillers a while back and before she knew it, the pills were the only way she could get through her tough days? No, she’d rather not. His eyes are rimmed with red. He’s been crying, and Lily’s heart breaks. She’s responsible for this. “Can it wait?”

  He nods. “Of course it can.” He grasps her hand and squeezes.

  “It hurts,” she says now, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “What hurts?”

  She turns away. How can she explain that she’s not talking about one specific thing but the entirety of her? That everything hurts. Her throbbing head, her stomach, her mouth that’s so dry it feels as if it’s on fire. But that’s not even the half of it. Everything hurts.