No, that daughter had been replaced with a new one – the daughter who locks every door and sneaks stashes of pot into her bedroom drawers…
I rapped softly on the door, but didn’t bother turning the knob – she always locked every single door behind her.
So secretive … but that’s the way of teenagers, isn’t it? There’s always some vulnerable, wounded part of themselves they feel like they have to tuck away and hide. The person they trust the most as a child becomes the last person on Earth they’d ever confide in…
The humming stopped for a split second, but then it started up again.
Ignoring me, as usual.
The tune she was humming sounded familiar.
Row, row, row your boat…
“Delaney.” I knocked again, harder this time. “You need to finish up. Samantha’s due here any minute. It’s rude to be in the shower when you know someone is on their way to pick you up…”
I didn’t wait for an answer because I knew there wouldn’t be one.
Truth was, I was less worried about Delaney’s rudeness than my discomfort with the idea of being stuck interacting with Sam while Delaney got her shit together.
I’d imagined this whole pick-up going more smoothly—Delaney standing by the front door with her backpack in hand and ready, the exchange between Sam and I polite, but brisk. Very brisk. Then I’d stand on the front porch and wave. “Have a good time, you two!” I imagined myself shouting, in that perfect, non-jealous way, that responsible co-parents do.
But that scenario wasn’t going to happen.
Michael nor Samantha had been to our house in a couple years; the drop-offs and pick-ups always facilitated by me, or Delaney’s friends. And I liked it that way—the last thing I needed was Michael’s judgement—his eyes scanning every square inch of our small modest home.
At least it’s Samantha coming, not him. But still … I don’t feel like I can trust her either. I always feel like I’m under a microscope, being judged.
It’s a strange feeling, being watched and overlooked at the same time…
My feet were achy from work, but I refrained from kicking off my dress flats; instead, I got busy washing the sticky mugs from this morning, and I hauled the garbage out to the dumpster in the alley out back.
By the time my lovely daughter emerged from the bathroom, the kitchen was neat and organized, and I was working the vacuum back and forth over the carpet in the living room, humming a mindless tune of my own.
Samantha was late, which surprised me a little, but also came as a relief.
The house is looking pretty good now, if I must say so myself…
But when I looked up and saw my daughter’s face, my insides turned cold. Delaney was gripping her cell phone in her hand, shaking like a leaf.
I kicked the vacuum off with my right foot and pulled the cord from the wall.
“What’s going on?”
Delaney was wearing skin-tight maroon leggings with a stretchy black blouse. I’d never seen the outfit before – undoubtedly, a new gift from her father or stepmom. My daughter was painfully pretty, in that way all young people are, skin soft and youthful like putty. Her body and face undamaged by motherhood, or time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but even after fifteen years, the depth of my daughter’s beauty always knocked me off guard.
People say we look alike, but I don’t see it.
And she was wearing makeup, something new – a silky slip of gloss on her lips, reddish-brown shadow a strange contrast with her navy-blue eyes. However, her long black hair was still tangled and damp from the shower.
Something was wrong; there was a milky-white shade to her skin, and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, the way she used to do when she was young…
“Well, what is it? What’s wrong?” I tried to suppress my annoyance. Another thing about Delaney since becoming a teenager: she was dramatic as hell and getting an answer out of her was like pulling teeth with a pair of chopsticks.
“It’s Sam. There … well, there’s been an accident.”
And just like that, Delaney’s woman-like façade crumbled completely. Her nose wrinkled up and she reached for me, falling into my chest. I held her there, shock rolling through me.
Delaney was sobbing, her body rocking back and forth into mine.
“Oh my gosh. What kind of accident?” I whispered.
I rubbed her back in slow circles, soothing her at my breast, just as I had done when she was young and needed me. But this felt different, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held her.
It’s been years, I realized sullenly.
As I hugged her, I could feel her bones through her skin, no more baby fat. Overnight, she’d become sharp angles and blunt curves … a total stranger to me.
When did she lose weight? And why haven’t I noticed before now?
Delaney still hadn’t answered. I felt desperate to know, but my heart ached as she shook and cried in my arms.
Could my husband’s new wife be … dead?
For a brief moment, I considered how that would make me feel, really feel. Sure, I resented Samantha, but dead?
No, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Especially not someone my daughter’s grown so fond of. Her happiness is more important than any resentment I feel toward Michael and Samantha.
But there was another part of me, that niggly fierce mother in me, that felt slightly pained by my daughter’s strong reaction.
It must be bad.
“Shhh… I’m sure it will be okay.” I stroked the top of Delaney’s hair, breathing in the heady smell of her honey-scented shampoo.
Delaney pulled back with a surprised jerk, flustered. She wiped her face with the back of her hands, smoothed her rumpled hair into place.
She remembers who she is now. No longer a baby who cries in her mother’s arms…
“Dad texted while I was in the shower. Sam was on the way to get me when someone ran a red light and hit the side of her Mercedes. She’s being taken to University Hospital. Her neck is broken, and some other things… That’s all I know.”
“Oh my God, that sounds serious,” I said, reaching for her. I wanted to hold her again, try to make it better … but, this time, she side-stepped me. With her back pressed to the couch, Delaney took out her cell phone out and started punching keys. “I need to go to the hospital. I need to make sure she’s okay. And Dad probably needs me too. He sounded very worried…”
“Yes, of course, we should go right now. Let me grab my purse and slide on my shoes, then I’ll take you.”
Moments later, we were buckling our seatbelts in the minivan and backing out of the driveway. Delaney twisted her hair into a tight, wet knot at the base of her skull that oddly resembled my own.
“I know you must be so worried, honey. Are you okay?” I reached over out of habit, ready to pat her knee.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, inching her legs out of reach. She shifted her body towards the passenger’s window, still struggling to smooth the frizzy, loose pieces of hair that poked out from the stubby bun.
Twenty minutes later, the glaring red lights of University Hospital came into view. I flicked my signal on and turned into the crowded lot.
“I’ll park in the garage. We can take the elevator up—”
“No, just drop me in the front.”
I tapped my brakes outside the emergency room entrance, hesitating.
“But we could get towed. It’ll only take a moment to grab a spot, Laney. I’ll be fast, I promise.”
“Mom,” Delaney whined, “just drop me in the front, okay? I’ll call you in a little while with an update.”
“Oh.” I felt my cheeks growing warm. “You don’t want me to come inside with you? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind. I’m concerned for Samantha too…”
“The last thing Dad needs is an extra stressor, okay? I’ll let you know how she’s doing as soon as I can. And I think you’re right; she’s going to be okay
.”
“Yes, I’m sure she will,” I said, still hearing the ring of that word ‘stressor’ in my ears.
Is that all I am to my ex now, an extra blip of stress in his busy radar of life?
I parked at the curb behind a row of flashing ambulances. I watched two paramedics, as they unloaded an elderly man out the back on a big, white gurney.
Delaney let herself out the passenger’s side, not looking back or saying goodbye. I watched my daughter as she ran towards the entrance, joining up with two familiar faces at the door: my ex-sister-in-law, Fiona, and my ex-father-in-law, Joseph.
Glad to see they turned out for Samantha. They didn’t even come to the hospital when Delaney and Dillan were born…
My face burned with shame.
I shouldn’t be thinking of myself at a time like this. Samantha has been injured and my daughter’s upset.
Joseph and Fiona glanced over at me, expressions stony. Then, pretending I didn’t exist the way they always did, they looked away. I watched as Joseph wrapped a thick arm around Delaney’s shoulders and led her inside the hospital. I waited for them to disappear through the revolving doors.
The sun was nearly gone, the sky an ominous indigo color. I made the slow drive home, not even bothering with the radio.
As I approached our subdivision, I flicked my high beams on to combat the fog. My thoughts were muddled and strange.
Will Samantha be okay? What if she’s not? Will Delaney be alright? But then those questions swelled into darker ones: Why is Delaney so distraught over her stepmom? And why is she always so impressed by her? Am I losing my daughter completely? And why am I so damned jealous?
I could see it in Delaney’s eyes when she talked about her stepmom – they lit up. ‘Sam’s such a talented painter. Sam has a moon and star tattoo on her back. Sam showed me how to mix paint properly…’
Blah blah fucking blah.
But guilt fluttered back.
This is no time for being petty.
I wasn’t normally the praying type, but I said a small prayer under my breath for Samantha.
When I pulled in, there was a red Miata parked in my driveway. Loud 90s rap music boomed from the speakers, seemingly shaking the entire block.
Good thing I only have one neighbor for miles.
I parked beside the Miata, smiling warily.
“There you are!” Pam squealed. My oldest friend – my best friend – was sitting in the driver’s seat, blonde hair crispy with hairspray. When she smiled, I saw a smudge of bright red lipstick on her freshly whitened teeth. I motioned for her to turn down the radio.
“Sorry,” she said, grinning wildly. But her manic smile evaporated when she saw the worried look on my face. I rolled my window down farther, then turned off the engine.
“Oh, Ivy. What’s the matter?”
Unhooking my seatbelt, I leaned my seat back a little and took a deep breath.
There’s something about being around my best friend that makes me want to lie down and relax, tell her all about my day like she’s Sigmund Freud…
“Samantha had an accident on her way to pick up Delaney. She’s at the hospital. It’s serious, apparently. She has a broken neck.”
Pam’s eyes widened. “And we’re upset about this, right?”
“Fuck, Pam. Of course we are. Delaney’s upset. They’ve gotten so close…”
Pam raised her eyebrows, in that Are you okay with that? sort of way I found annoying.
That’s the bad thing about best friends: they always know the things you think but cannot say. And Pam knew my secrets better than anyone.
“I’m sure she’ll be okay, but Laney was so upset. I just hope they’re all okay. What are you doing here, anyway? Not that I’m not glad to see you…”
Pam and I worked together, but Fridays were usually her day off.
“I came to pick you up, silly. Did you really think I’d let you spend your birthday alone?” Pam patted the empty passenger’s seat with a sly grin.
My birthday.
I’d nearly forgotten about it since this morning, not that birthdays were a big deal for me anymore. The fact that Delaney hadn’t wished me happy birthday all day had hurt a little, but maybe she had been going to, until Samantha’s accident?
When Delaney was little, she’d loved birthdays – the cake and the candles, the singing and the presents. Hell, even when it wasn’t one of our birthdays, she’d hold pretend birthday parties with her dolls and stuffed animals. One year, I’d even bought her a big plastic cake to play with at Christmas…
“You’re so sweet, but I can’t go anywhere. I need to stick around in case Laney needs me. She might want me to come to the hospital…”
“Ivy,” Pam said, sternly, “it’s Michael’s day to take care of her, and I’m sure she’ll call you if she needs you. She’s a big girl now, and we won’t go far. Just down to the pub for dinner and drinks. Jerry’s meeting us there, too.”
“I’m still in my damn work clothes,” I grunted, pointing at my faded green polo shirt.
Pam gave me a look.
I know that look.
She wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Okay, fine. At least let me go change real quick. But is it okay if I follow you down there instead of riding?” Pam was a heavy drinker at times – never a drunk – but she often drank a few too many when she went out. And lately, she went out a lot more than I did.
We hadn’t gone “out” together in a long time, and I just felt safer driving myself.
“Just in case Laney calls while we’re out. I want to be able to go and get her if I need to,” I explained.
“Fine,” Pam groaned, waving for me to hurry up and get ready.
Dinner and drinks with Pam and Jerry, my two best friends – my only friends, really – sounded pretty good, actually.
Hell, you only turn forty once, right?
“I’ll wait out here,” Pam croaked, lighting a cigarette and blowing a big cloud of smoke in my direction. By the time I had my front door open, her music was blasting again.
The living room was dark, and I nearly tripped over the vacuum I’d left out earlier.
It took me a few minutes to pick out something to wear. Finally, I settled on a black pencil skirt and a silky red and black top that was getting tight around my waistline but still hugged my breasts just right. Then I combed my hair and brushed my teeth, strutting back outside. I forced myself to smile with all my teeth – mostly for Pam’s benefit, but also in the hopes it would lift my own sour mood.
Pam was smoking another cigarette, looking down at the pink iPhone in her lap.
“Look okay?” I did a goofy spin in the driveway. Suddenly, the idea of being with Jerry and Pam instead of at home worrying by myself did sound kind of fun.
“You’re gorgeous, Ivy. Don’t look a day over thirty!” she teased.
“Oh, bullshit. But thanks. I’ll be right behind you, but first, let me text Laney. I want to see how she’s doing, see if she has any updates on Sam.”
“Sam. When did you start calling her that?” Pam snorted.
I waved dismissively and took my phone out of my purse.
I was a little disappointed to see that Delaney hadn’t messaged me with any news yet, but it had only been a half hour since I’d dropped her off.
I typed:
How is Sam doing? Call me if you need me and I’ll be right there.
As soon as I clicked send, I heard a tiny ding coming from the passenger’s side floorboard.
I was surprised to see Delaney’s phone, a black Android with a bedazzled case lying face down on the floor.
She must have dropped it when she got out earlier…
Delaney guarded her phone like a precious jewel. Not uncommon for any teen, I guess.
I could remember tucking my pager away, hiding it between my mattress and box spring, but I’m not exactly sure who I was hiding it from since my parents were already dead by then…
I stared a
t the phone, sparkling in the hazy moonlight outside my window.
It wouldn’t take Delaney long before she realized she’d left her phone behind, if she hadn’t already.
Pam honked beside me and I yelped.
“Alright. Let’s go,” I groaned, shifting the van into gear.
My hands were clammy on the steering wheel as I squeezed between a truck and a Volvo in the back row of Midge’s Bar and Grill. It was “our” spot – Pam, Jerry, and me – on those rare days when we were granted an extended lunch break. They had excellent salads and pasta bowls for lunch, but I’d never been here this late at night.
The parking lot was crowded with cars and the screeching sound of an electric guitar floated from the open deck that was normally closed in the daytime. Couples and groups were wandering through the parking lot, making their way inside.
I gave Delaney’s phone on the floor one last, longing glance, then I took out my own phone and messaged Michael.
Delaney left her phone in the van. I thought she might be looking for it. If she needs me, will you have her give me a call from your cell, please?
I clicked send, then added one more text:
Wishing and praying for Samantha.
Reading it back, it looked corny. And maybe a little sarcastic. Would Michael believe me?
Probably not, I decided.
There was no love lost between us – well, not anymore. He knew I was angry and resentful, and I knew he didn’t give a shit. He’d never apologized for cheating on me, not even once…
As I shimmied out of the van, I couldn’t help noticing that everyone looked much younger, much prettier.
Is this what it feels like to get old?
A tiny knot of women – well, girls, really – slid past me, cell phones held out in front of their faces, giggling. They were all wearing high-waisted jeans and trendy crop tops that they must have coordinated beforehand.
“Makes you feel old, don’t it?” Pam teased, bumping her hip up against mine.
“Nah. Just wiser,” I said, adjusting my purse across my chest and settling it on my right hip. I clicked the automatic lock button on my key fob. “And it’s too damn cold for tube tops anyway.”
She Lied She Died Page 19