“So . . . this is basically an intervention?”
“Minus the huge support network and all the advanced planning, I guess it is. I maybe should’ve told you that before I let you come along, huh?”
Henry swallowed hard. An intervention was a little more than what he was expecting, but Eliza had enough doubts. She certainly didn’t need to deal with his too. “How do you think she’s going to take it?”
“If I can’t figure out some sort of plan before I get there, she’ll probably run. I need to present things in a way that gives her little choice but to come with me. She needs rehab, I know that much. But the trouble is she’s been in rehab in Nashville—fulfilled her court-appointed obligations, then fell right back into her old habits and ways. I feel like she needs to get out of town—away from her friends, from everything—but I don’t have a clue where I could take her.”
Henry could tell Eliza was growing frustrated.
“I don’t know, Henry. I don’t even know if she’ll be willing to talk to me, much less leave with me. I don’t know if she’ll be drunk or high or both, if she’ll be reasonable, remorseful. I’m terrified of how this is all going to go.”
Instinctively, Henry reached over and put his hand on Eliza’s arm. “We’ll figure something out, all right? It’s going to work out.”
“But I should already have it figured out. I’m a social worker. This is what I do for a living, and yet I feel paralyzed by this entire situation. I can’t seem to think straight about it.”
“This isn’t work, Eliza. It’s your family. Of course it’s going to be harder for you to think straight. Let’s just back up and talk about the things we know, and then we’ll come up with a plan on how to move forward.”
Eliza looked at him long enough and with enough intensity that his pulse stuttered and then restarted twice as fast. “I’m really glad you’re here, Henry.”
“Tell me about your mom. Is there any chance she’ll want to be involved?”
Eliza shook her head. “I’m afraid to ask her, only because she’s been enabling Gina for so many years already. If she’s finally turned tough and kicked her out, I don’t want to give Gina the opportunity to wear her down. I guarantee that’s what Gina is waiting for: for Mom to change her mind and let her come home.”
“Does your mom know you’re coming?”
“If she knew, she’d already be at Barbara’s house waiting for me, and that’s why I haven’t told her. For Gina’s sake, Mom needs to be out of the picture. I think her absence will actually send a stronger message than her presence, if that makes sense. Because then Gina will realize she has no other option but the one I’m giving her.”
“And that option is going to be what?”
Eliza’s shoulders fell. “I guess it’s going to be state-funded rehab. I can’t afford anything else. I just have to hope this time it sticks.”
Henry wished he knew what to say to make her feel better, but nothing came to him.
Her next words tumbled out, a jumble of thoughts and emotions he could tell she’d been struggling with for a long time. “I was so stupid,” she said. “I left. And for a while it felt so easy, like I could have this new life without having to worry. But I should have been thinking about this—planning for this sooner. I was foolish to think I could escape without this part of my life coming back to haunt me.”
Before Henry could answer, Eliza pointed up ahead. “There, look,” she said, her voice still dejected. “There’s a Chick-fil-A. Let’s stop to get something to eat.”
Henry pulled through the drive-thru lane and ordered their meals while Eliza used her phone to look up information on rehab centers that might work for Gina.
“Did you find anything that looks promising?” Henry passed the bag of food across to her, letting her divvy everything up while he turned back onto the interstate. He noticed as they ate how much of an effort Eliza made to make it easier for him to eat while he drove. She held his french fry container, handed him his drink, even put mayonnaise on his sandwich. Despite the stress she was surely feeling, she still focused on Henry’s comfort. It was a small kindness, but one that was not lost on him.
“There are a couple of places that might work,” Eliza said. “Nothing seems ideal, but it might be the best I can do. Once I’m done eating, I’ll make some calls and see who has room for her.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Henry. “Listen—I’ve got an uncle who manages a large hospital in Raleigh. He knows a lot of people and has a lot of connections in the hospital network. It’s probably a long shot, but I could give him a call too. Maybe he knows of a place that would work well for Gina—someplace different, and away from Nashville.”
“I’ll take long shots,” Eliza said. “At this point, I’ll take any kind of shot. That would be great if you don’t mind calling.”
Henry was pleased to see the hope his suggestion had given her. He realized how much he wanted her to be happy, how much he wanted to ease the burden she carried. A part of him wanted those desires to mean something. When he thought about how it had felt to hold her as she’d cried—solid and real in his arms, the warmth that lingered on his fingers after he touched her—he wondered if it could mean something, if it would ever mean something to her.
After two years of believing no one could ever replace Allison, to realize he could even consider the possibility was thrilling. And utterly terrifying all at the same time.
* * *
Two hours later, Eliza and Henry sat outside Barbara’s house. It was a modest home, well kept, but smaller than the others lining the suburban street. It was older as well and had a bigger yard, giving the impression that it existed long before the cookie-cutter houses surrounding it had popped up. The street light at the corner filtered light down through the sprawling branches of a large maple tree in the front yard, casting eerie shadows across the grass. The house itself was mostly dark. Only the dim light of a lamp shone in a corner window.
Eliza was quiet. Henry knew she was simply trying to prepare herself for the conversation that was to follow.
“It’s going to be all right, Eliza,” he said gently.
She took a deep breath. “Will you pray with me? Pray that I can do this?”
Henry took her hands in his and offered a prayer on her behalf. When he finished, Eliza looked up with tears in her eyes.
“Thank you . . . I hope you’re right. I just have to trust that everything is going to be all right.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’m going to stay here in the car, okay?” Henry said.
A brief flash of panic crossed Eliza’s face, but then she softened, nodding her head as if in resignation. “It probably would be better. I don’t want to give Gina any reason to feel uncomfortable, and since she doesn’t know you . . .”
Henry nodded. “I’ll be right here if you need me. I’m right here.”
Chapter 10
Eliza found Gina mindlessly flipping channels on an old television set in the back bedroom of Barbara’s home. The bed was unmade, the floor littered with Gina’s clothes and several stacks of used dishes. A dark-blue bath towel had been draped over the closed curtains, most certainly to diminish the light that filtered into the room during daylight hours.
It was a dismal sight. Gina herself was hardly an improvement. Eliza thought she looked thinner than she had the last time she’d seen her. Her cheeks were sunken, her eyes rimmed with red. She looked awful—awful and completely surprised to see her younger sister walk into the room.
“What are you doing here?” She was instantly accusatory, her voice edgy and strained. Eliza didn’t say anything. She simply sat down on the bed across from Gina and waited for her to figure things out. Anger flared as soon as she did. “Wait, did Barbara call you? I don’t believe this. Barbara!” she yelled. “You called my baby sister to come and check up on me?” She turned back to Eliza. “Really, Eliza, you didn’t have to come all this way. I’m fine. I don’t need anyt
hing from you.”
“Gina, you can’t stay here. It’s not fair to Barbara. She has kids to take care of; she has a life. She can’t have you lounging around, eating her food, getting drunk in her back bedroom.”
“I’m not drunk.” Gina tossed the TV remote onto the bed beside her and crossed her arms defensively.
“Not right now,” Eliza agreed. “But for how long? This isn’t your home. Barbara loves you, but you aren’t welcome here anymore.” Eliza watched as Gina stood and paced nervously around the room.
“What, and she had to have you drive all the way here just to tell me I’m not welcome? Why didn’t she just tell me herself?”
“She didn’t want to turn you out, Gina. She loves you. She wants you to be safe. It just can’t be here.”
“So I’ll leave, then.” Gina started to pick up the clothing strewn about the room.
“Where will you go?” Instinctively, Eliza moved to the door. She didn’t think her sister would try to flee. Her only mode of transportation was her own two feet, but Eliza felt better blocking the doorway just the same.
“What’s it matter to you where I go? Just go home. I’ll figure something out.”
Eliza took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here just to deliver a message and then leave again. I’m going to stay a few days.” She paused to gauge her sister’s reaction. Gina stopped moving about the room and turned to face her but didn’t say anything in response, so Eliza continued.
“I want to take you to rehab, Gina. You can’t do this anymore—not to Mom, not to Barbara, and most importantly, not to yourself. I want you to let me help you.”
“You think it’s that easy? That you can just waltz in here and say, ‘Hey, sis, time to quit life and go to rehab because baby sister says so’? Well, here’s a news flash for you: I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do,” Eliza said evenly. “Where are you going to go? Mom has locked you out; Barbara is kicking you out. Where does that leave you?”
“I have friends. I’ll . . . stay with them.” Her voice faltered just enough for Eliza to know Gina’s welcome among her friends must have been wearing thin.
“For how long? Until Mom comes around? She changed the locks, Gina. She doesn’t want you to come home.” The rough exterior of Gina’s reserve was starting to crack. She turned away from Eliza and sank onto the bed.
“Have you talked to Mom?”
Eliza thought about lying to her sister. She wanted Gina to believe her family was unified—that they were all serious about her making a change right now. She believed her mom would stand beside her, but she couldn’t be certain, and she wasn’t willing to test her mother’s mettle when Gina was at such a critical point. But she couldn’t bring herself to lie. Trust was more important. “No. She doesn’t know I’m here. I was afraid if she thought I was coming, she’d try to talk me out of it. Or come and get you herself.”
“She won’t come for me—not this time. Do you know what I did? Do you want to know why Mom kicked me out?”
Eliza sat on the bed next to her sister.
“I came home in the middle of an art class. She was teaching, and I was drunk. She asked me to stay out of the living room, to just stay away until everyone had gone, but I couldn’t do it. She was just so . . . happy. She was happy because I wasn’t there to ruin things.”
Eliza closed her eyes. She could only imagine where this was going.
“I ruined the painting she was working on. Just walked into the room, picked up a cup of black paint, and tossed it onto the canvas—hers and then her student’s.” Gina shook her head. “You know what’s sad? I don’t remember doing any of it.”
“Gina, don’t you see?” Eliza said. “It’s time to stop. It’s time to get help, to make things right with Mom again.” They sat quietly, Eliza holding her breath as she waited for her sister’s response.
“No,” Gina finally said. “Maybe I need to change some things, but I’m not doing rehab.” She stood and shoved the last of the clothes she’d been gathering into a worn blue duffel bag she’d pulled out from under the chair in the corner.
“Why won’t you let me help you? You don’t have to do this on your own,” Eliza pled. “Please, Gina. Just let me help.” Gina pulled a pair of tall black boots over her faded jeans, then hoisted her bag over her shoulder.
She stopped in the doorway of the bedroom. “That’s just it, Liza. I don’t want your help.” Eliza followed her to the front door and watched her sister slip silently into the darkness.
Gina was smaller than Eliza—a few inches shorter with a narrower frame. Eliza could have physically restrained her sister had she tried. But she couldn’t force her to get help. If Gina wasn’t even willing to have the conversation, what else could Eliza do? Still, to simply let her walk into the darkness alone, to wind up who knows where?
“You okay?”
Barbara stood in the hallway, worry and concern evident in everything from the look on her face to the way she kept threading a dish towel through her fingers.
Eliza sniffed and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “I don’t know what happened. She got up to leave, and I just . . . I let her go.”
“We’re only a few blocks away from the bus station,” Barbara said. “I expect that’s where she’s headed. Where she’ll go after that is anybody’s guess.” Both women turned when a knock sounded on the front door. Eliza opened the door and found Henry standing there looking a little sheepish.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to intrude, only I saw your sister leaving. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
Eliza shook her head. “I wish it were, Henry.”
“Do you want to follow her in the car? Should we try to bring her back?”
Eliza was quiet for a moment. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t know why, but I think we need to let her go.”
“I don’t understand,” Barbara said. “If kicking her out was all she needed, I could have done that on my own. Did you really come all this way just to let her walk out after one conversation?”
Eliza looked resolutely at her aunt. “She’s going to come back. I have to believe she’s going to come back.”
Barbara looked doubtful. “I know you want to hope for the best, but Gina’s track record isn’t very good, Liza. I wouldn’t hang your hopes on that thought.”
“It’s not just a hope. It’s a feeling. Gina doesn’t have anywhere to go. Her pride made her leave tonight, but . . . she’ll come back. Just wait and see.”
* * *
The following morning, Eliza and Henry sat at opposite ends of Barbara’s round kitchen table. Barbara was off delivering her children to summer day camp, so for the moment, Eliza and Henry were alone. Eliza had slept in the bedroom where Gina had been staying, and though her sleep had been fitful, she still guessed she’d fared better than Henry, who’d done his best to be comfortable sleeping on the small sofa in the living room. It couldn’t have been easy squeezing his six-foot frame onto four and a half feet of sofa. He didn’t complain, but he didn’t exactly look rested either.
Eliza pushed the last of her scrambled eggs around on her plate. Barbara had fixed a lovely breakfast, and Eliza had forced herself to eat, knowing she needed it. But her stomach was too tied in knots for her to really enjoy her food.
“Your aunt is very nice,” Henry said, breaking the silence.
Eliza smiled. “She’s a lot like my dad. For a while after he died, it was hard to be around her because they’re similar in so many ways. But now I find it comforting. I figure if there are parts of him in his sister, then there must be parts of him in me too.”
“That’s a nice thought.” Henry cleared his throat. “So, uh, what are we going to do if Gina doesn’t come back?”
Eliza looked up. “She is going to come back.”
“Well, but what if—”
“Have you heard back from your uncle in Raleigh?” she interrupted him. “I’m going
to follow up with a few of the places I called last night. Maybe you could check with your uncle again too?”
Eliza was being stubborn, but it was too painful to think about what might happen if Gina continued down her current path. This had to be it. This had to be the beginning of Gina’s recovery. Still, Henry was right. Eliza didn’t want to admit it, but he had asked a very valid question. What if this time Gina really did disappear for good?
* * *
Barbara took her role as host to Eliza and Henry quite seriously. At every turn, she was offering them something to eat. After a lunch of fried chicken, potatoes, and coleslaw, Eliza thought she’d keel over if she tried to eat the key lime pie Barbara pulled from the refrigerator.
“Barbara, you shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble. You’ve been in the kitchen all morning.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I never get to see you, so it feels right I should spoil you while you’re here. Besides, you look thin. I’m going to send you home with the leftover fried chicken.”
If only Barbara had been around when Eliza had been in foster care; she would have taken Eliza in without a second thought. But she’d been living across the country, teaching in California while her husband, Dave, finished his degree. She’d done what she could—phone calls had been frequent, and she’d made sure she visited Eliza every time she was home.
Eliza remembered how wonderful it felt to have Barbara move back to Tennessee just after she had moved back in with her mom. The extra measure of support was something they had both needed as they’d worked to rebuild their relationship.
After Eliza and Henry finished their pie, they moved to Barbara’s living room and continued their day-long discussion regarding the various options available for Gina’s treatment. Eliza had found a state-funded program that was willing to admit Gina, but it was the same facility Gina had attended for court-mandated rehab when she’d been arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct. She’d stayed for the required twenty-eight days and had made baby steps of progress, but she hadn’t stayed sober for more than two weeks after leaving the facility.
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