“I should have just taken her home myself.” Jenna pulled away and Danielle released her.
“You couldn’t have done that,” Danielle said. “She was suspicious of you. Tina was doing much better. That’s why you let her do it, not because you weren’t willing.”
Jenna looked over in surprise, and Danielle saw understanding wash over her.
“You called Tina? She said someone did, but I couldn’t figure it out.”
Danielle nodded. “You said she was the best, the only one who was ever any help.”
“That was thoughtful of you.”
“And it turned out horribly, so if you want to blame someone, you can blame me.”
Jenna shook her head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Well, now you know how you sound. It wasn’t your fault, Jenna.”
Jenna still couldn’t shake the layer of tears, and the angles of her face reflected the night light with a soft clarity that put everything in focus.
“It was my fault, though,” she said. “I should have gotten Callie out of there when we were little. I should have gotten her help. She is the way she is because of me. All this time I’ve been wondering why she won’t help me out, why she won’t help make sure Mom stays on her meds. It’s because she hates us both, and we deserve it. If I’d have just told the social worker the truth Callie would be living such a different life, and Mom would be getting the care she needs in a facility. The only one who benefitted was me. All this time I thought I was sacrificing I was really just being selfish.”
“Jenna.” Danielle put her hand on Jenna’s knee. “I know I jumped to conclusions before, and I’m sorry. Please tell me what really happened to your sister’s face.” Danielle’s heart beat faster as she waited. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Jenna refused to tell her. What right did she have to ask? What right did she have to know? But Jenna took a deep breath and looked at the sidewalk again.
“It was the Fourth of July,” Jenna said. “Callie was eight years old, and she’d never seen fireworks. Mom was too afraid to leave the house, and she didn’t want us going out without her, so we were stuck at home.”
“She wouldn’t let you out of the house?”
Jenna shook her head, still staring at the ground. “Not really. Just for school, and some days she wouldn’t even let us do that. We missed enough that the school got concerned about why, but we lied our way through it. Pretended we were ditching a lot to protect Mom, but that’s beside the point. We had a few friends that lived in the neighborhood, and we had a big backyard, so sometimes if we could get them to come over Mom would let us play in the back. I decided it was time Callie had a proper Fourth of July, so after school I stole some bootleg fireworks from one of those little stands and brought them home, had our friends come over.”
Danielle could already imagine how the rest went, but she’d made the mistake of making assumptions once already, so she waited.
“My mom used to be really fun,” Jenna said.
Danielle smiled watching Jenna remember it.
“Schizophrenia can come along pretty late, you know? I had all these memories of her when she was fine, just a great mom.” Jenna choked up again. “There was this time when I was younger that my mom bought bottle rockets for the Fourth. Her friends and she would light them while they held them between their fingers. I begged her to let me do it, and eventually she did. She held her hand on mine, and she lit it, told me to hold it loosely. It shot right out of my fingers. No big deal.”
Danielle nodded. She’d seen people do a million things with bottle rockets.
“It was this great moment for me, my mom showing me how to do that, the anticipation, the elation when it happened. I always remembered her holding my hand like that, the way she was smiling when I looked over. I just thought she was the coolest person alive.” Jenna smiled softly. “I wanted Callie to have that. She doesn’t remember Mom like I do. It’s why they’re not close. By the time Callie was having real, meaningful memories, Mom was already changing.”
“So you showed her?”
Jenna nodded. “Yeah, I showed her. She loved it. She looked at me the way I looked at Mom. I felt like a million bucks.”
“So what happened?”
“Our friends came over, saw what we were doing. They were my age, not Callie’s. They’d done that a million times already. They suggested we have a bottle rocket war, start shooting them at each other. We did. We were all running around the backyard like lunatics, using ashes as war paint, trying to hit each other with them. Callie was so much smaller than we were, but no one treated her that way. She wasn’t my kid sister. She was just part of the group.”
Jenna sighed and finally leaned back on the bench again, breaking her gaze at the ground and looking at Danielle. “We never had much money in those days. When I went to the fireworks stand I had to steal them, and I couldn’t exactly spend a lot of time picking stuff out. I just shoved whatever I could in my pockets and ran. I didn’t realize it at first, but they weren’t all the same. When we ran out of bottle rockets, I just went on to the next ones. I thought they were just a different brand or something, didn’t think much of it, but they were a lot bigger. I don’t know how I didn’t give it more thought. I didn’t even read the label, couldn’t even tell you what it was.” Jenna shook her head, disgust taking over her face. “We were all so caught up in the fun. We just didn’t want it to end. I don’t think I actually hit anyone once with the bottle rockets, but wouldn’t you know the very first of the bigger ones I shot off hit Callie right in the face.”
Danielle found she had leaned forward as she stared at Jenna, waiting. Jenna opened her mouth, but nothing came out the first time. She closed her eyes for a second, then tried again.
“Callie fell to the ground and started screaming bloody murder. There were sparks flying all over the place still, even when she was already on the ground. I was so scared. I just knew it was blasting farther and farther into her face trying to shoot forward. It was horrifying. Our friends didn’t even realize what happened at first, but somehow from all the way inside the house, Mom did. I ran over to Callie. Mom came flying out the back door. Callie’s face was all these colors, bright red, white in some places, black in others. She was crying so hard. I’ve never heard someone cry like that.”
Danielle let a few seconds of silence pass before she spoke. “How old were you?”
“Old enough.”
“What do you mean?”
“Old enough to know better, if that’s what you’re wondering. I was thirteen.”
“That’s young, Jenna. Really young. I know you had to grow up fast, but you were still a kid. And you were trying to help your sister experience the magic of childhood. You were trying to be a stand-in parent. That’s a big job for a thirteen-year-old.”
“Callie screamed at me yesterday that I blew her face off. I was trying to yell at her for not helping me more around the house, with Mom, and she told me I had no right because I blew her face off. And you know, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She’s right. How stupid do I sound talking about taking the trash out when I blew my little sister’s fucking face off? What does she care if I’m having a hard time? Or if Mom is? It wasn’t just that it happened, either. We didn’t get her proper care.”
“What?” Danielle said. “What do you mean?”
“That’s why she scarred so badly. She would have anyway, but they could have maybe made her look better, but we didn’t take her in for a lot of her follow-ups.”
“Why not?” Danielle felt the life draining from her limbs. Jenna nodded, seeming to witness it happen.
“The school already knew something wasn’t right. They’d been itching to intervene, but we knew the right things to say, and before that there wasn’t anything physical for them to go on. Once Callie turned up with those awful burns they were able to get CPS involved.” Jenna spun her fingers through her hair and pulled. “We were terrified of them, Danielle. The school, th
e hospital, the social workers, all of them. They didn’t explain things to us, so we just had our imagination and what Mom said.”
“What did your mom say?”
“That they’d take us away. We wouldn’t see her anymore, might not see each other anymore. That we could end up with people we didn’t like. They were government entities, and that was the scariest thing you could say about someone in our house. And the doctors, Mom thought they wanted to experiment on Callie or something. When they peeled away the dead skin, Mom told us they were harvesting her flesh for clone research. They released Callie back to us after the initial treatment with instructions to come back for follow-ups, but like hell we wanted to go.”
“But didn’t they ask questions about why she missed appointments?”
“They did, at first. We were forced to go to a couple of mandatory visits, but some of it wasn’t required. Some of it was cosmetic, not covered by insurance, things like that. Things Callie deserved but didn’t get, that they couldn’t force us to do. Mom thought it was all so sinister. I helped her through the visits, told the social workers it was all fine. I told Callie what to say. All I wanted was to keep Mom from getting in trouble. I knew she was sick, but I didn’t want to leave her. I was the one who burned Callie’s face, not her, so it was easy to tell myself we should stay with her. I lied my way through everything until CPS went away, and now Callie lives with terrible scars and shame because of me. I orchestrated this huge lie that cost everyone.”
“Jenna, it wasn’t your—”
“Please stop saying that. Mom was too sick to do otherwise. Callie was too young. I was the capable one in that house. I was the only one who could have made things go differently, and I didn’t. And now Callie has finally admitted she hates me for it.” Jenna took a deep breath and wiped away a tear. “When I heard you removed Deon and Raylon, it broke my heart for them, of course, but honestly, I give up on my judgment. I’m not sure it’s ever done anyone any good. If you came here because you think you owe me something, you don’t.”
“Jenna, don’t do that to yourself. You were just a kid. You made the best decision you could with skewed information. And there’s nothing wrong with your judgment now. You were right. I was too hasty before. It was the right call to remove Deon and Raylon now, but not before. My family abandoned me the second they didn’t like what I was doing with my life. I was gay, so they ended it. I’m not used to seeing a family fight for each other, but that’s how it should be. You’re great at what you do, and you made me better at it too.”
Jenna smiled weakly and surveyed her surroundings, seeming to come out of some sort of haze. “I’m sorry to keep you out here so long,” she said. “You probably want to get back to Brianna.”
Danielle felt slapped and disoriented by the words. “What?”
“I take it you guys worked it out?”
“We’re not speaking.”
“You’re not?” Jenna’s brow crumpled in confusion.
“No,” Danielle said. “I can’t begin to forgive her for what she did. I probably couldn’t even if she asked me to, but she’s been too drunk to even do that.”
“Why the ring, then?”
Danielle was every bit as confused as Jenna looked. She glanced down at her hand, the ring her brother gave her.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Why wear her ring if you can’t forgive her?”
“This?” Danielle held up her hand. “This has nothing to do with Brianna. Did she say that?”
Jenna nodded. “She said she gave it to you when you decided to try to work things out.”
“What?” Danielle shot to her feet, feeling her blood boiling up her spine. “I told you we were never going to work anything out. That was all fabricated.”
“I know you did,” Jenna said. “But…” she paused. “I thought you changed your mind or something, I guess.”
“No, Jenna! I don’t want her. I never wanted her. I wanted you!”
Jenna stood up too now, stepping closer. Danielle felt her pulse pick up as she tried to anticipate what Jenna could be doing. She still had a slight sway when she tried to stand upright. Danielle remembered again how much Jenna had to drink. She carried herself much better than Brianna did, but the small things still gave her away.
“What is it then?” Jenna asked.
It took Danielle a second to trace the question back to her ring. “My brother gave it to me, as a reminder that he still loves me even though he can’t talk to me. He said my mom gave it to him, so we both like to think it’s from her too. It’s easier thinking my dad is the only one who wants nothing to do with me.”
Danielle expected to see shock on Jenna’s face, but her surprise was much more subtle, deeper. Danielle could feel that she believed her finally.
“Wow,” she said. “I’m sorry about your family.”
“Don’t be sorry about that,” Danielle snapped. “Be sorry for not believing me.”
“I wanted to,” Jenna said. “But—”
“But I didn’t tell you the truth right away, so how could you? I know. And then I insulted you on top of it, talking about the case, about your family, and Callie would obviously rather ruin your career than see you with me. It’s all fucked. I get it.”
“You sound pissed.”
“Yeah.” Danielle felt the energy drain out of her as she admitted to it. “It just never should have happened.” She sighed. “We never should have happened. It was a bad idea from the start.”
Jenna stepped closer. “I keep telling myself that too,” she said. “I can’t seem to feel it, though.”
Jenna slowly touched her face. Her palm was warm against her cheek, and she stared into her with an intensity that made her tremble beneath its weight. She could step into Jenna’s arms, take back what was meant to be hers, but she couldn’t seem to move. Jenna leaned forward, but her breath smelled like liquor, and Danielle pulled away before she knew what was happening.
“You’re drunk,” she said.
Brianna’s words circled in her head, her argument that Jenna was like her, not like Danielle, and she knew now as much as she did then that Brianna was right. Jenna was the gorgeous, fun, free-spirited life of the party. As fun as it was to be around, it wasn’t who she was.
Jenna pulled back too. The heat in her gaze disappeared.
“You think I wouldn’t do this sober?” she asked.
“I think I can’t date another alcoholic.”
Jenna snorted and laughed so immediately Danielle knew it was an automatic response, something she hadn’t intended to do, but Jenna didn’t come down from her obvious resentment.
“Are you kidding?” she asked. “You think I’m an alcoholic? Because you’ve seen me drunk once?”
“Your friends talk about what a party girl you are all the time.”
“And you think that means I drink too much? Do you even know if I drink at all these parties? Do you think that’s the only way to socialize?”
Danielle felt her cheeks flush as self-doubt crawled through her. “No,” she said. “I guess I don’t know. I just know I don’t like this. I don’t like seeing you like this. And the last time I ignored that I ended up with Brianna.”
Jenna shook her head. “Fine,” she said. “I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. You’re right. We never should have happened.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Jenna woke up to an alarm sounding on her phone. Her heart tumbled to the floor when she recognized it as the reminder to give her mom her medication. It had been a hassle, a daily nuisance for most of her life, and after just a day without it, she felt disoriented and empty. She would give anything to go argue with her mom about her pills now.
She slowly registered the clatter of dishes from downstairs, a sound that brought her back to early childhood when she used to wake to her mom making breakfast, or late at night when she’d been sent to bed but was still wide-awake. She hadn’t heard that sound in years. She rol
led out of bed and made her way downstairs to find Callie cleaning the kitchen. Jenna stopped in the doorframe at the bottom of the steps. Callie spun and smiled.
“Morning,” she said.
Jenna squinted, trying to muddle through the morning and hangover blur. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Callie smile. Or do chores. Especially after she’d spent the night out.
“Morning,” Jenna said.
“You want some coffee? You look like shit.”
Jenna shuffled to the dining table and sat down. “Uh, sure.”
Callie poured her a cup of coffee and slid onto the chair next to her. “I called that lawyer you liked.”
“What?”
“I saw your list of lawyers on the computer,” Callie said. “You had a bunch of stars next to one of them, so I called him.”
“I…” Jenna looked around the room as if it would somehow clue her in to Callie’s new demeanor. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Callie said. “He needed some money to talk to me, so I gave him the emergency credit card. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Jenna said. “It’s definitely an emergency.”
“Yeah.” Callie frowned. “Anyway, I told him what’s going on, and he’s really confident he can help. He wants to talk to you too, of course, but he said from what he heard there’s no way attempted murder is going to stick.”
Jenna was floored. She could barely put two thoughts together. “Thank you, Callie. That’s amazing.”
Callie shrugged. “It was just a phone call.”
Jenna timidly sipped her coffee, afraid to speak, afraid to fall back into the chaos that had been their last conversation, worried that speaking would break some sort of spell or maybe just wake her up from a dream. Callie leaned forward and grabbed her hand. Jenna was startled by the gesture and met Callie’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Callie said.
It was so simple, but her throat tightened as tears threatened to crawl up. She felt like a battered pulp, a walking bruise with skin thin enough to rip at a touch. She shook her head.
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