My Name Is Rowan: The Complete Rowan Slone Trilogy

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  I padded down the hall in my socked feet and listened at Jess’s door. He was crying so hard it sounded like he was choking, phlegm getting caught in a swollen throat. And then it sounded like he was gagging, maybe vomiting.

  Without knocking I threw open the door, a dark foreboding settling around me. My eyes immediately went to Jacob. Snot was running down his face, and his cheeks were bright red like someone had smeared fingerpaint on the apples. The rest of the room was empty.

  “Come here, little man. It’s okay.” I lifted him into my arms, swallowing my irritation as I tried to comfort him. His arms, legs, and back were rigid. I tried to bob up and down but he wouldn’t let his legs and hips fold.

  “Jess!” I yelled, loud enough for the entire building to hear. “Jacob needs you!”

  The apartment was quiet. In the far distance, I could hear the shrill siren of a fire engine. But here, in this apartment, I heard nothing but the irate squeals of Jess’s son.

  Something prickled at the back of my neck, making the hairs stand on end. A quick glance around the room showed me her bed was made as if no one had slept in it last night. Then I saw it. Nestled against one of the throw pillows that rested against the headboard was a folded note with the word Rowan scrawled across the top.

  I needed two arms to keep Jacob from wrenching free and falling so I didn’t pick up the paper. Instead, I walked up and down the hall, my mind reeling about what that note could say.

  Instinct told me I wouldn’t want to know what was written there. Something had been wrong with Jess for months. Jacob was constantly cranky, snotty, and wanted to be held all night long. I kept telling her it was a phase. The doctors kept giving him medicine, saying he would grow out of it. Nothing seemed to console her, though. If ever there was a hopeless person, it was her.

  No, I didn’t want to see what was in that note.

  Maybe it just said she ran to the store for formula or diapers. But a stack of diapers sat just inside her opened closet door and two containers of formula rested beside them, still in the plastic grocery bags.

  Maybe it said she had decided exercise was the best medicine and was out for a jog. Or she went early to the community college to catch up on all the work she’d not done over the past weeks.

  Or, maybe…but a shudder erupted through me before I could commit my mind to the thoughts that wanted to take hold there.

  Something told me I needed Jacob settled before I unfolded that small piece of paper. I went into the kitchen and warmed a bottle. Then I changed his diaper, going through all the motions that I needed to, even forcing myself to take more time. Finally, I went into the room he shared with Jess and sat in the rocking chair.

  Jacob hiccupped and sobbed a couple of withering, half-hearted bursts. He felt feverish and the congestion seemed like it had taken permanent root in his lungs. I leaned into the back of the chair as he tucked into his bottle, sucking greedily at the rubber. The only thing I could see was that white folded note lying on the pillow.

  It was only my imagination but something about the air in the apartment seemed different. I guess it had changed months ago, but I was only now noticing it. It was stagnant, stale, stifling. Suddenly, it was hard to catch a fresh breath even though I tried with several deep inhales.

  Was this what Jess felt? Suffocated? I could understand why. I tried to force myself to yawn, to pull in more oxygen that I suddenly and desperately needed.

  I had to get out of that room so I hoisted Jacob onto my shoulder. He belched into my ear and a hot stream of spit-up flowed down the thin cotton of my shirt. I snatched the note and walked to my room where I struggled to pull in a deep breath.

  I laid Jacob in the bouncy chair and turned it on vibrate. He protested but then I shoved a teething ring into his hand and he was, for the moment, pacified. With a burst of an exhale, I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the letter.

  I read the simple words: I can’t do this. I’m sorry.

  The letter fell from my fingers, floating slowly to the ground like it caught a breeze from somewhere. It landed by Jacob’s bony hand, and he slapped at it then screamed when he couldn’t grasp it.

  Oh my God.

  That was all I could think.

  Jess had left.

  Oh my God.

  I DIALED Jess’s cell phone over and over and over. The first voicemail message I left said: Jess, it’s me. What’s going on? Are you okay?

  The second: Jess, this isn’t funny. Pick up.

  The third: I’m calling the police.

  The fourth: Goddammit, Jess, Jacob needs you. What the hell are you thinking? You’re his mother, not me! How could you just leave him?

  Then I slammed the phone down on the kitchen counter and wiped the bubble of snot from Jacob’s nose. He needed to go back to the doctor. He also needed someone to take care of him today. I couldn’t do that, not with the full day I had.

  Fury and fear ripped long, talon-like shreds through me. On the one hand, I was so angry with Jess for not taking care of her responsibilities, I would’ve punched her in the face at that moment. On the other hand, I was terrified. I knew she was struggling, but I just chalked it up to a phase. Was it more than that? Had I been blinded to her desperation?

  I called Tanya to see if she knew anything, but she didn’t answer the phone. She was probably already at work. The clock on the back of the ancient oven read eight o’clock in dim red numbers. I had to be at work at nine and then my afternoon was filled with classes.

  With Jacob on my hip, I paced around the small living room, my mind reeling. Should I call the police? Her dad? I doubted her dad would care, though. Mr. Sumners at the bookstore? I picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” his gruff voice said on the other end.

  “Hi, Mr. Sumners. It’s Rowan. Jess’s friend.”

  “Hi, Rowan. Is everything okay?”

  “You haven’t heard from Jess have you?” I wiped Jacob’s nose again, balancing the phone between my shoulder and the side of my face.

  “No, I haven’t. She’s due in at noon. Why? What’s wrong?”

  The line was quiet between us, filled with unspoken words and anxious thoughts.

  “Rowan?”

  If she ended up coming back through that door, I didn’t want her to be in trouble, for him to think she was irresponsible. That job was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

  “I’m sorry. I’m here. She must’ve run to the store. I thought she had to work, which is why I called.” The lie rolled off my tongue. “I just need her to pick up something for me. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “Ro-”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I hung up.

  Another glance at the clock told me I needed to hurry. And another glance at Jacob verified that I needed a babysitter. The small oval mirror by the front door showed me that I needed to shower. A quick whiff of the sour milk in my hair confirmed it. What was I supposed to do now?

  I called the one person I knew would help. “Gran? It’s Rowan.”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” I heard the sound of pots clanging in the background. “Want to come over for breakfast?”

  “No, thanks. Gran, can you watch Jacob today? I have to work then have class.” I slid him into his highchair and tightened the straps.

  “Where’s Jess?”

  I sighed and grabbed the jar of mashed green beans off the counter, popping the lid off. “She’s out of town and left him with me, but I…I need help. I have to go to work and can’t miss class.”

  “Of course I’ll watch him, honey. I think it’s strange that she left her child with you and didn’t help arrange childcare, though.”

  I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, especially when I already felt the same way. “I know. It was kind of last minute. If you could watch him that would be a huge help.” I’d figure out tomorrow’s childcare…well…she would be back tomorrow. I just knew she would. “I can drop him off in about thirty minutes on my way to work
. Is that okay?” I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the sudden tension that had appeared as if by the wave of a magic wand.

  “Sure, honey. Don’t forget bottles and diapers.”

  “I won’t.” When I hung up, I looked at Jacob and wanted to cry. But I couldn’t. I had to hurry. There was no time for tears.

  After a quick stir, metal spoon clanging against glass jar, I started feeding him, glancing at the clock every thirty seconds. “You’re going to Gran’s today.” I spooned another bite between his pink lips and dodged a green bean bubble that burst from his lips.

  “Stop doing that,” I chided, though my voice didn’t support the rebuke. I grabbed a wet paper towel to clean his face and realized I was shaking. Falling apart wouldn’t help anyone so I forced myself to relax.

  I pulled my phone over and glanced at the screen. It was blank. No message from Jess. I texted her:

  Where are you?

  As expected, there was no answer.

  Without thinking, I’d set down the jar of food and spoon on Jacob’s tray as I tried to decide what to do. With my back turned, he started slapping his hands against the hard plastic like he often did. But when I heard the spoon clank to the floor and then heard the jar follow, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the mess I would turn around to find as the tears spilled from my lids.

  I TRIED to avoid my childhood home as much as possible and as it turned out, it wasn’t really that hard. There was no reason to return to this part of my past, and I shuddered with the swell of buried emotions that shot through me as I pulled into my old driveway. It was still the same dirt-covered, weed-encased path that it had always been. Gran tried to clean up the outside but she wasn’t wealthy and it really was, in the end, the same old house with the same old dark, harrowing memories. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary, I wouldn’t be here right now.

  Gran opened the door while I struggled with the heavy car seat and the overflowing diaper bag. I almost laughed at what I must look like. But then, I didn’t.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Gran hurried to me and grabbed the bag from my shoulder. Then she leaned down and peered at Jacob. “Hello, little man.”

  A yellowish snot bubble formed at the edge of his nostril.

  “Is he sick?” Gran asked.

  “He’s always sick,” I huffed, struggling toward the house.

  The grass, perpetually brown and patchy, did not grow any better under Gran’s careful touch. There was evidence of her other improvements, though. The gutter that had hung off the right side of the house for as long as I could remember was finally straight and looked like it was well attached to the house. There were no empty, broken flowerpots lying around and a new American flag fluttered in the light breeze, hanging over the doorway like a welcoming beacon. If this was a token of my dad’s service in the Army, I didn’t know.

  “I like the flag.” I focused on all the good things Gran had managed to change.

  She glanced up. “I got it a couple of months ago. It’s an all-weather flag that I bought at Wal-Mart. They had them on sale after July 4th. I thought it added a nice touch.”

  “Uh-huh,” I agreed. “Is Trina home?”

  “She isn’t here.” We passed through the door. “She said she had an early appointment or something.” Gran sighed as she set the diaper bag on the floor. “I’m not sure what to do about her. She’s just…well….” Gran ran a hand over her jaw.

  “She’s what?”

  “I don’t know, Rowan. I’m afraid of the influence this group will have on her. She’s always been so impressionable.”

  Several quiet minutes passed as I pulled Jacob out of his seat and laid him on the floor. Gran pursed her lips and turned her back to me, walking into the kitchen.

  “What is it?” I followed her and stopped at the counter, deliberately not touching the familiar surface.

  “Well, there are these strange people, especially the men, though the women are weird, too. They come by here with their long skirts, their hats, and their pamphlets, which is odd because she’s already a part of their group. But it’s like it’s not enough. They want more of her.”

  “Is she going to school?”

  Gran poured a cup of coffee and sipped the black liquid. “Supposed to be, but not often enough. And when she does, she tries to preach to the other students in the halls. It’s scary. I’ve spoken with your old guidance counselor, Ms. Johnson. She is trying to help. We’re going to get the police involved if she misses any more school. They’ll take away her driver’s license. I doubt your sister will care, though. These people don’t like her driving anyway, though they surely like to use her car. Only they, the men, have to be the ones driving. It’s creepy.”

  Why hadn’t Tanya said anything? I guess with Jess acting so strange there was only room for one dysfunctional young woman in our conversations. Then there was a little time left over to talk about Mom. There was just no room to talk about my sister.

  “Have you talked with Dr. Schweitzer yet?”

  “Not really.” I waved my hand in the air.

  Gran nodded, her eyes settling on my face with such intensity, I shuffled my feet and bowed my head.

  “Dr. Schweitzer thinks her weight problem comes from some sort of psychological issue, like she’s using food to make herself feel better and her weight as a wall to keep away other people.”

  “That’s a lot of psychobabble,” I muttered, arranging Jacob’s bottles, diapers, and wipes on the counter.

  “Maybe it is or it isn’t,” she placated. “But she needs help. She’s needed help for years, and I’m glad that Dr. Schweitzer seems to have at least made a plan.”

  “Hmm...” I wrapped my arms around my chest and turned to look at her, daring her to try and lure me into any form of sympathy for my mother.

  Her mouth opened and closed twice before she finally looked over my shoulder toward the living room where Jacob had rolled over. He was pulling at long strands of the shaggy carpet.

  “Did you make an appointment to see her? You know, that doesn’t mean you have to see your mother.” Her voice softened. “I think that would do you both a world of good, though. I know she misses you terribly.”

  I was bent over Jacob now and shot a fiery gaze on her. “Why are we talking about this now?” I hoisted him onto my hip and stood, planting my feet while I squared my shoulders.

  “Forgiveness. It’s all about forgiveness. She can only get so much better without help from you. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive her?”

  “Forgive her?” I sputtered. I glared at Gran. “Surely you jest.”

  She held her hands out toward me, palms upward, pleading. “You hold the key, Rowan. You and you alone. I have forgiven her. Trina has forgiven her. Your dad is gone. It’s a big responsibility, I know, but you are the only one who can save your mom.”

  “Save her from what?”

  “She’ll never get better. Really and truly better if you don’t forgive her.”

  I clutched Jacob so tight he wailed in protest, and I loosened my grip.

  “And I don’t think you can completely move on without forgiving her. You have so much laid out ahead of you. I worry that holding onto the past will keep you back.”

  “Holding onto the past? I’m not holding onto anything but Jacob. Look!” I thrust Jacob out toward her, his thin legs kicking the air. “I’m holding onto my best friend’s baby. I’m holding down a job as assistant manager at the shelter. I’m holding a full class load at school. What more do you want? I can’t hold onto anything else, much less the past!” My voice screeched, and Jacob started to cry.

  “Yes. You are doing a lot. Too much if you ask me. You’re going ninety miles an hour just trying to keep yourself too busy to deal with the past. That’s how I see it, at least. As long as there is no time to stop and think, you don’t have to deal with your mom. But it’ll come back and bite you, Rowan. Mark my words. You have to deal with your mother.”

  My entire body sho
ok in revulsion. How dare she say these words to me? I was doing what I needed to do. There was nothing else to be done!

  My glare deepened into lethal darts full of poison. I thrust Jacob at her and marched out the door, her voice trailing behind me as I raced to my car.

  “Can you do it, Rowan? Can you find it in yourself to forgive your mother and save yourself?”

  I DIDN’T remember much of what happened after Gran’s last question. I got into my car, turned the key in the ignition, and started off down the road. It wasn’t until I was in the parking lot at the animal shelter that I felt some semblance of consciousness. Where my mind had been until that point, I had no idea.

  Forgiveness. What did that even mean? I walked into the quiet shelter, my mind reeling. Janie was off this morning and would come in at noon. That meant I had the place to myself, which wasn’t good. I didn’t want to brood over Gran’s words. I wanted to get some work done on my English Lit paper, read a book, figure out what to do about Jess. The last thing I wanted was my headspace to be occupied by anything to do with my mother. She had taken up enough of my life already. And not in a good way.

  But, of course, I couldn’t get my mind to settle. Images of my obese mother, with her greasy hair and her rolls of fat, merged with memories of my sweet baby brother and his chubby cheeks and blond hair. I had loved Aidan. I had loved my mom. Did I love her still?

  Forgiveness. Could I do that? The immediate and simple answer was no. If forgiveness meant that one stops feeling anger, stops blaming, well, I didn’t think I could do that. Mom had killed my baby brother, sending our already dark, brooding lives into a downward spiral that none of us had yet recovered from. And she had intentionally let me take the blame. For years I thought that I was the one who killed Aidan.

  But I wasn’t.

  There were scars, though, both seen and unseen, that shaped everything about me. I had come a long way. I was standing on my own two feet, solidly, defiantly, resolutely. If I took a step down this invisible path of forgiveness would I make it out alive? Or would this final act be the one thing that sent me over the edge?