She bites her lip, looking torn. “Okay. I just…look, I’m sorry, but maybe she just needs more time.”
I shake my head, turning away, hoping she’ll get the point and leave. “I’m not going to wait around for her.”
“I know. And you shouldn’t. I’m sorry, Fred. I hope…I’m really sorry.”
I nod, still not turning to her. Eventually I hear her footsteps in the hall, leaving me alone.
I’m glad I packed my bag the night before. I shove a few things inside before I notice the sweat pants Ellie left on the floor. I pick them up, tossing them into the laundry basket. I debate pulling the sheets from my bed but decide that I can’t stand to be in this room for a second longer. I’ll deal with it when I come back.
I pull the door shut behind me and walk out to the kitchen. I want nothing more than to take off, but I have to take care of one last thing first. Zoe and Jet both look up at me when I enter, surprised. “Zoe, I need to tell you something. El…” I find I can’t say her name without my voice shaking. “She had an altercation with her boss, before she came over here.” I clench my fists. “He got violent with her. She wouldn’t let me take her to the police.”
Zoe’s mouth drops open. “I knew that guy was an asshole!”
“Yeah, well, I just thought you should know so you can…I don’t know. I just thought someone should know.”
She opens her mouth to say something else but I raise my hand, giving them both a curt wave. “See you guys next week.”
I head to the door before they can say anything, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there. I figure telling Zoe about Chad is the last thing that I owe to Ellie. There’s nothing else to keep me here, not now.
***
The week drags. In spite of what I said to Zoe about not needing false hope, I can’t help but wish that maybe Ellie might call—or at least text—if only to let me know how she is. I hate that everything happened right after the incident with her boss. Hate that I can’t even check in on her, see how she’s dealing with it. She must be looking for a new job now. The memory of the bruises on her face has my stomach clenching whenever I think of it. You told Zoe, I remind myself. Zoe can help her. Or Hunter. Any of the people that she’s more willing to let into her life.
I go through the motions at school. I wish I could throw myself into my work the way I used to, to distract from all the shit in my head, but I can’t. Every time I try to read there’s a buzzing in my ears that sets me on edge. I sit through an entire lecture without taking a single note.
For the first time I understand why Jet used liquor to hide from all of his problems. I remember him this summer, after Zoe left, drinking his way through every day, constantly in a stupor. I wish I could do that. I wish I could numb this feeling, make it fade somehow. I consider skipping class and doing just that. Consider not coming home for my internship. I’ve never wanted to escape my responsibilities like this. Never wished I could just say fuck it. But I want to now.
And I might have done it, too, if it wasn’t for the call I receive on Saturday morning. It’s my father.
“Fred.” His voice is heavy, tired. He sounds much older than the last time we spoke.
“What’s wrong?” I ask immediately, my heart rate picking up.
“I’d like you to come home, son. We need to talk.”
My stomach plummets to somewhere in the region of my knees. Quickly I scurry for my duffle bag, shoving T-shirts and socks in at random. “What…what do we need to talk about? Is everyone okay?”
“Your sister was arrested last night.”
I freeze in the act of grabbing a sweatshirt. “What?”
He sighs. “We can talk about it when you get here. Just drive carefully and come straight to the apartment, okay?”
I’m still reeling, but I manage to say a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. What in the hell could have happened?
My mind goes over and over that question as I make the drive. I think of the money I had given her—was the fine more than she expected? Did they take her into custody when she tried to pay it? A nasty little suspicion wedges itself in the back of my mind, a thought about ways that money might have gotten her into trouble, but I do my best to ignore it.
Until I reach the apartment. After that, there’s no way to ignore my suspicions. “She was caught in possession,” my dad explains when the three of us are sitting at the small kitchen table. “She had…heroin.”
I close my eyes, sure I’m going to be sick. My mom reaches across the table to rub my back. She alone has been calm since I showed up. My dad has been alternating between pacing and resting his head in his hands. He seems so tired, so completely weary. For the first time in my life I think I might hate her for doing this to him, for doing it to all of us. Heroin. Holy shit.
“It’s my fault,” I mutter. “I gave her money. She was just playing all of us.”
My dad shakes his head, his eyes sad. “I don’t think she was, Fred. I think she really wanted things to work out. But once she had that money in her hand…”
“She gave in to temptation. So it was my fault. If I hadn’t given it to her—”
“You were trying to help,” Mom says, her voice firm. “She’s your sister. It’s not a crime to want to help her.”
“But it didn’t help. I should have known that giving that much money to an addict was not a good idea.” I rub my temple, the nauseous feeling growing. “But I didn’t know! I didn’t know what she was into. She told me about drinking too much and taking X but, God, heroin? What the hell?”
“Stop blaming yourself,” my dad says, sounding pissed. “If anything this is my fault. I gave her too many chances, gave her too much leeway. I just…” Suddenly his face crumples, tears coming to his eyes. “I just blamed myself so much, for not being better for you both after your mom died.”
“Dad,” I whisper, stricken. He’s really crying now and it makes me feel panicky, as if all those nightmares from after her death are coming true. All those times I lay alone in my bed, listening to him cry in the dark, long after he thought I’d gone to sleep. “Dad—”
But my mom stands up and goes to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. “You did the best you could,” she says. “You took wonderful care of these children.”
“I worked too much,” he sobbed. “And when I was home I let my own grieving get in the way of being there for them.”
I slam my hands on the table, unable to stand it anymore. “No you didn’t! You were always there for us! And you brought Martha into our family, which was exactly what we needed. Don’t blame yourself, Dad!”
He stares at me, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Fred. I didn’t ask you to come home to see me like this.”
I sigh, rubbing my hands through my hair. “Don’t apologize. I’m part of this family, where else would I be right now?”
“That’s why we called you, sweetie,” Mom says. “Because we have some decisions to make now, and we want you to be here to help us.” She gives me a small smile. “Because you’re part of this family.”
I nod and my dad wipes his face, trying to get it together. He meets my eyes across the table. “Fred, the business is going under.”
I’ve been dreading these words for years yet, somehow, when he tells me I almost feel relieved. Relieved that he’s telling me, instead of trying to hide it. Relieved that it’s out there in the open.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
He waves his hand. “Maybe it’s for the better. The stress of it hasn’t been good for any of us. A fresh start might be nice.”
I’m more than a little surprised by his attitude. My entire life he’s thrown himself into that company, determined to make it a success. He’s practically killed himself keeping it going all these years.
“What will you do?” I ask.
“There’s a larger company that’s offered to buy it up. The purchase will pay off the debts. They’ve been offering for a long time now, but I’ve b
een stubborn.” He looks over at my mom and they both smile a little. “I’m ready to stop being stubborn.”
“Wow.” I look between the two of them. They seem a lot more serene about the decision than I ever would have imagined. “What, uh, what will you do for money?”
“I’ve been looking into some contractor positions,” he says, his eyes meeting mine again. He looks almost guilty now. “An old associate of mine is looking for someone to run his expansion. I wouldn’t be my own boss anymore, but it’d be a steady paycheck.”
“That sounds great.”
“Son, the position is in North Carolina.”
“Oh.” So that explains the guilty look. They want to leave.
“We want your opinion on this, Fred,” he tells me, and Mom nods beside him.
“I…” Part of me wants to beg them not to do it. I don’t want them to be so far away. And what about Phoebe? I don’t want to be stuck here, responsible for her. But at the same time, I can’t help but see the logic behind the idea. Going back to full-time contracting would take all of the business running pressure off my dad. He could get back to what he enjoyed—building houses.
I realize that they’re both watching me, waiting for me to say something. And that, somehow, takes a bit of the weight off of my chest. They’re involving me in this, letting me take some of the burden of the decision. Unlike so much else in my life, this isn’t something that’s just happening to me, outside of my control. I don’t know why that helps so much, but it does.
“I think it sounds smart,” I tell them. “The housing market hasn’t rebounded here the way it has in other places. Trying to find a contracting job in Michigan doesn’t make a lot of sense.”
He nods. “I don’t like the idea of being so far from you, of course, but it would free up a lot of my time, honestly.” He smiles wryly. “I could probably be a much better father down there than I’ve been up here, even with the distance. We might even have time to talk on the phone occasionally.”
We both laugh softly at that.
“What about…?”
“Phoebe?” he asks, and I nod. Again the tired look is back on his face. “I don’t know, son. I really don’t. At some point she has to be out of chances.”
I nod, feeling sick at the thought.
“We certainly can’t afford a lawyer for her,” he continues. “And your mom and I didn’t think it would send the right message to bail her out.”
“So she’s just…in jail?”
He nods. “For now. She’ll probably be released once she’s been formally charged. After that…”
He looks at me, so much pain and fear and resignation in his eyes.
“Maybe we can see if a judge will assign her to treatment,” my mom says. “Instead of jail time. Maybe get her some help.”
I nod, but it sounds like a long shot to me. This isn’t the first time she’s been in trouble with the law. What if they decide she’s out of chances?
“It’s not your responsibility, Fred,” my dad says. “I know that’s hard for you to accept, I know you want to take everything on your shoulders. But you can’t do that, son. It’s her life.”
I nod, looking away. Those words are easy to say but a hell of a lot harder to make myself accept.
“I need to get to work,” my dad says, rubbing his face roughly with his palms. “We have some jobs to finish up.”
I nod. I was expecting it, but I wish he could stay. I wish I could tell them about Ellie, about how fucked up everything feels. But he’s already been home a lot longer than I could have expected. He surprises me, though, by griping my shoulder on the way to the door. He pulls me to my feet, wrapping me up in a bear hug.
“I’m so proud of you, son. I hope you know that.” I feel tears sting my eyes, so I don’t respond. “I hope you don’t mind that I called you home. I just…we respect your opinion. We want you to know that. We want you to help us, not just sit around and worry the way you usually do.” He pulls back, his arms still around me, and looks into my eyes. “You’re growing into such a great man, Fred.”
I can’t speak, can only nod, and he pats my face, giving me a smile before releasing me. He kisses my mom, grabs his keys, and then he’s gone, off to put more hours into a company he’d already decided to give up.
I sink back into my chair, feeling overwhelmed. You’re growing into such a great man. It’s probably the nicest compliment anyone’s ever given me.
“Fred?”
Suddenly, I know I’m going to cry and I can’t look up at my mom. I bury my face in my hands, trying to take deep breaths, trying to keep the tears from coming. They come anyway.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says, coming over to sit next to me. She touches my arm gently. “It’s going to be okay. It will all work out. Your sister—”
“It’s not that. It’s just…I’ve been having a really hard week, Mom. And it feels stupid to be upset about it with all of this—”
“‘All of this’ is not your problem, Fred. You’re supposed to have a life of your own.” She rubs my back, her touch gentle. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“There’s…there’s this girl. We’ve been seeing each other for a while and…I love her. But she doesn’t love me back. And it sucks, Mom. It sucks so bad.”
I look up and see that she has tears in her eyes, too. “Oh, Fred. I know it does.”
I wipe angrily at my eyes, mad at myself for making her cry with my pity party. “It’s dumb, though. Why am I wasting all this time thinking about someone that doesn’t want me? I have school and all this shit with you guys and Phoebe. I need to just get over it and concentrate on the important stuff.”
She brushes some hair out of my face, smiling sadly. “Do you have any idea how much your mother loved you?”
I start, not expecting that at all. “Yeah. Of course I do.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t, Fred. You will when you have kids someday, but until then, you just can’t understand how she felt about you. I always tried to keep that in mind, after your dad and I got married. To remember what you meant to her and how big of a responsibility I had, helping raise you.”
“You did a great job,” I tell her, wholly uncomfortable with this line of conversation. We rarely talk about my real mom.
She smiles a little sadly. “I wish she was here, I really do. To hear her boy tell her all about his first real love.” She shakes her head. “I think if she was here, Fred, she would tell you that you deserve to be happy. No matter what’s going on with us or your sister, you can still have a life of your own. Your own dreams and struggles and joy and heartbreak. Don’t try to ignore all of that just to concentrate on someone else’s problem.”
I give myself one moment to wish, with all of my heart, that my mom was still around. That she was here, instead of Martha, to hear about Ellie and tell me what to do. “I miss her,” I whisper.
“Of course you do. But I want you to think about what she would want for you, Fred. She would want you to have your own life.”
I nod and she leans over to squeeze my shoulder. “I think this girl is nuts if she doesn’t want you.”
My laugh sounds sad even in my own ears. “I think she does, deep down. I think she’s just scared.”
“Well, that sounds like her problem, doesn’t it? You can’t figure it out for her, Fred. Just like you can’t figure any of this out for your dad or your sister.” She ruffles my hair, her voice more lighthearted now. “You always worry too much. Maybe it’s time to just let go.”
Just let go.
I shake my head, smiling at her. “You’re right.” It’s funny she used those words, exactly what I needed to hear. Suddenly I don’t feel quite so terrible about what happened with Ellie. Sure, I still miss her so bad it hurts, but I feel a peace, too. I did what I had to do—I was honest with her. I can’t change the way she sees the world, the way she sees love and relationships. That’s her struggle, not mine.
Just let go.
; “I think I’m going to go,” I say, standing. “Are you okay here?”
“Of course.” She follows me to the door and wraps me in a big hug. “Call me, okay?”
“I will, Mom.” I squeeze her tight. “Thank you.”
“Oh sweetie, you’re welcome.”
I kiss her cheek and then leave the apartment, leaving the stress of the last few hours back at the kitchen table. My parents are going to be fine. And my sister will be whatever she chooses to be, fine or not. Either way, I can’t fix it for her. Just like I can’t fix anything for Ellie. And I couldn’t fix anything for Jet. Or Jim. Or my mom. All I can do is be there for the people I love in whatever way they’ll let me.
All I can do is just let go.
Chapter Twenty-five
Ellie
You could cut the tension in my car with a knife. Hunter is sitting in the passenger seat, his eyes firmly on his window, acting for all the world like I’m not even there.
He’s been weird with me ever since everything went down with Fred. I don’t blame him—I’ve been weird right back, lashing out at everyone, sinking into moody silences, drinking way more than I should. I’d try to ignore me, too.
The only bad habit I haven’t fallen back into is smoking. I’ve wanted to, desperately, but every time I went to light up I would hear Fred’s voice, telling me that I could do anything I wanted to, and suddenly the cigarettes would lose their appeal.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, tired of the awkward silence—and of the flashes of guilt that continue to plague me.
He turns to me, eyebrows raised. “Sorry for what?”
“For being such a bitch the last few weeks. I know you’re all pissed at me.”
He shakes his head, turning back to the window. “You haven’t been a bitch, Ellie. And no one is pissed at you.”
“It sure feels like it,” I mutter.
“We’re worried about you.” His voice is soft but unapologetic.
“You don’t need to be,” I snap, and he sighs.
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