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“They’re not going to arrest me because I didn’t take you against your will.”
“I’ve watched enough Law and Order to know that doesn’t mean shit. You’re so stupid.”
I turn into a residential tract and turn on my GPS to help me get out of here from a different street. The first place they’ll probably look for us is my house, but I’ve watched a lot of cop shows, too. I’m not that stupid. And no one other than me, Chris, and Claire know the address to Chris’s condo. They’re on their honeymoon. I’m sure they won’t mind if Molly and I crash there for a few days until we get this sorted out, or until Grandma wakes up.
Oh, God. What am I going to do if she wakes up and we’re not there? What did I get us into?
I ask my phone to Google estate lawyers and I leave voicemail messages for four of them while I drive. I try not to drive fast, but I know that if they do put out an all-points bulletin on my car – I highly doubt it – that my British electric sports car is too easily recognizable. I need to get to Chris’s condo fast.
As I turn onto Franklin Street, surrounded by all the UNC hangouts, I think of Senia. This is the home that Senia and I are supposed to move into so she can be closer to campus. I hope I haven’t completely fucked that up.
“Thank God,” I whisper as I pull up in front of the condo high-rise and find they have underground parking. I wonder if Chris will respond if I text him asking for the code to enter the underground lot. I shoot off a text, ignoring the notification of a voicemail from Senia, as I drive across the street to the Quickee Mart and hide my car between a couple of trucks.
Me: Can I get the code to your underground parking? I’m showing Senia the place and I don’t want to park my car on the street.
“Who are you texting?” Molly asks as she looks around the car.
The parking lot is pretty full. It’s about 8 p.m. on New Year’s Day. People are probably still celebrating the New Year. I have nothing to celebrate tonight.
“No one.”
Chris: 49852. Use space number G45. Door code is 8992.
By the time I pull into space number G45 in the underground lot, the snow has transformed to freezing rain. The lot is heated, but it’s not enough to stave off the chill that penetrates through the slats of the gated entrance and the fabric of the white dress shirt I wore with my tux last night. It will probably be even colder tonight without Senia in my bed.
I should call her and apologize, but I don’t know if she’s with those security guards, or the cops. I don’t want to risk bringing her into this. I just need to find out who drafted Grandma’s will so I can get my hands on a copy of it. If Grandma Flo left everything to Molly, then I can present that as a motive for Elaine’s sudden interest in getting custody of her. And, if necessary, I’ll tell them everything about her twisted ways.
Once we enter the condo, Molly heads straight for the kitchen. “I’m hungry.”
“Get whatever you want.”
She opens up the refrigerator as I look around. The condo is impeccably clean and modern, like it’s hardly been lived in. Of course, Chris and Claire have lived here less than a month. It’s nice. Senia would like it here.
“They don’t have anything except Capri-Sun, bacon, and water,” Molly calls from the kitchen.
“I’ll order you some pizza,” I call back to her over my shoulder, unable to tear my gaze away from the view through the glass doors leading out to the balcony. The way the raindrops glisten in the moonlight is mesmerizing.
I was accustomed to snow when I lived with Elaine in Maine. She used to tell me to get my coat on and go outside and play in the snow. I remember the neighbor delivering me onto our doorstop and ringing the bell after he found me in his backyard with blue fingers and lips. I had strayed onto his property, which was a good thing because Elaine didn’t even remember how long I’d been out there. She thanked the guy, and all my eight-year-old mind could think was that maybe I could win a world record for rolling in the snow for six hours. It doesn’t snow that much in Raleigh. And despite all the animosity I feel toward Elaine now, I can’t help but long for the snow when it’s gone.
“Why do you hate her?”
I turn around and find Molly sitting on the sofa with her shoes off and her feet propped up on the coffee table.
“Don’t put your feet on the table. This isn’t our house.”
She rolls her eyes as she removes her feet. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you hate Elaine so much?”
“I’ve already told you. She’s a worthless junkie who treated us and Grandma like trash.”
I sit next to her and the first thing I notice is that there’s no TV in the living room. Chris and Claire must be getting it on a lot in their new place.
“She did something to you, didn’t she?”
“What? Who?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
I kick my shoes off and put my feet up on the coffee table. “Let’s eat first. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Senia
From perfect to jerk in less than two seconds. The only guy ever to tell me to shut up was Tar Heel point guard Kevin Brown during a particularly wild frat party my freshman year, and I slapped him then pissed in his lap. I was rip-roaring drunk at the time and I needed to pee really badly, but, still, no one tells me to shut up.
“Ma’am, do you know where they might have run off to?”
The security guard’s smooth brown skin comes into focus. “What?”
“Your friend? Do you know where he may have taken the girl?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t take the girl. That’s his fucking sister.”
“Ma’am, we’re just trying to keep the girl safe. There’s no need to use that kind of language.”
The other security guard next to him tilts his head as he stares at me with a skeptical expression on his boxy face. He’s probably judging me – judging all of us in his head. He thinks we’re in this situation because we’re trash or because we’re one of those families that’s addicted to drama. One of those families … Did I just refer to myself as part of Tristan’s family?
Holy shit. I need to find Tristan and Molly.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing box-head out of my way as I stalk off toward the main hospital entrance.
I need to call Tristan and I need to call a cab so I can go get my car. I dial Tristan’s number, but he doesn’t answer. Tristan hardly ever has his ringer on. Most of the time, he doesn’t even have the phone set to vibrate. It’s just completely sile
nt. He doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s practicing or socializing. But I made him set the phone to vibrate when we got off the plane earlier, in case Molly or Grandma Flo called him. If he’s not answering, he’s probably just ignoring me. Asshole.
I get his voicemail greeting and I try to think of what I’m going to say during the brief seconds while I listen to his voice: I’m not available. Leave a message. Beeeeep.
“I … I think there’s something you’re not telling me and I just want to know how I can help.”
I hang up the phone and try not to cry as I think of the little human swimming inside me right now. He or she is doomed to have a fiery temper with Tristan and me as parents. I wonder if she’ll have Tristan’s golden-brown hair or gray eyes or if he’ll be a clone of me, the way Abigail is a clone of Claire.
I wish Claire weren’t on her honeymoon. I need her. I need to know that this isn’t the end. I need to know that being this scared is normal.
I wipe the tears from my eyes as I walk past the Heart Center and Children’s Hospital where I brought Claire to see Abigail almost three months ago. I think I’m finally beginning to understand Claire more than I did just a few weeks ago. I just wish I could understand why Tristan is the way he is with his mother. There has to be more to his hatred than a tragic story of abandonment.
I open the browser app on my phone and begin searching for taxi companies. The smell of fresh snow in the courtyard is such a fresh, calming scent. I wish I could bottle it up and take it home with me. I close my eyes and breathe it in, let it wash away the doubts I have about my future with Tristan. I don’t see the patch of ice on the concrete stairs. One second I’m falling, falling through the smell of snow. The next second, everything is gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“I got tired of being the man of the house,” I begin as I set my empty plate on top of the pizza box. “I was twelve years old and you were four. Grandma did the best she could, but she was struggling with money because she was living off the savings and insurance money from when Grandpa died. Grandma didn’t know, but I had started stealing stuff from stores to sell to people at school for money. I told her I didn’t need her to make me school lunches – I thought I was too cool for that – and I told her not to give me any lunch money. But it all became too much. I started to resent Grandma for being so damn cheap and poor.”
I clutch my stomach as the guilt twists my insides. I’ve made more mistakes than I can count, but not being happy with the life Grandma provided for us was the biggest.
I take a deep breath and continue. “Then I got into trouble when one of my friends’ parents found a bunch of watches we’d stolen. I thought that was it. I was going down. My grades had been slipping for a while. I hated coming home every day and knowing that I was going to have to keep you entertained while Grandma spent two or three hours cooking and cleaning. I just wanted to hang out and do bad shit with my friends, but Grandma wanted me to be a responsible young man.”
Molly’s golden-brown eyes are locked on me as she listens, rapt with attention as I prepare to tell her everything I probably should have told her years ago. I think I never wanted Molly to know because I was afraid of Grandma finding out. I don’t think Grandma would judge me, but I think it would destroy her to know that the daughter she still loves very much would do something like that.
“I showed up at Elaine’s house and, at first, she didn’t know what to do with me. She put me to work cutting the lawn and delivering packages, which I assumed were filled with drugs.”
