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“He drowned. We were camping by a lake . . . it was . . . ” Carrie trails off and takes a swallow of her drink. “He was my little brother. I was ten. I was helping Mom and Dad set up the campsite.”
Janie closes her burning eyes. “Oh, shit, Carrie.”
“He wandered down to the lake—we didn’t notice. And he fell off the dock. We tried . . . we tried . . . ” Carrie puts her face in her hands. Takes a long, shuddering breath. “We moved here a year later.” Her voice turns quiet. “To start over. We don’t talk about him.”
Janie puts her arm around Carrie and hugs her. Doesn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry.”
Carrie nods, and then whispers in a broken voice, “I should have watched him better.”
“Oh, honey,” Janie whispers. She holds Carrie close for a moment, until Carrie gently pulls away.
“It’s okay.” Carrie sniffles.
Janie, feeling completely helpless, fetches a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom. “I don’t have any tissues . . . Carrie? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Carrie wrings her hands. Blows her nose. Sniffles. “I don’t know, Janers. I thought it would go away. I was so tired . . . so tired of being sad. I couldn’t stand any more silent, pitying looks.”
“Does Stu know?”
Carrie shakes her head. “I should probably tell him.”
They are quiet for a long time.
“I guess maybe,” Janie murmurs after a while, “the bad stuff never goes away. And it’s nobody’s fault.”
Carrie sucks in a shivery breath and lets it out slowly. “Ah, well. We’ll see, huh?” She smiles through the tears. “Thanks, Janers. You’re a really good friend.” She pauses, and adds in a soft voice, “Just keep being normal now, okay? One sad look and I’m outa here, I swear to God.”
Janie grins. “You got it. Kiddo.”
December 11, 2005, 2:41 a.m.
When Carrie dreams, this time Janie knows what to do.
The forest, the river, the boy, drowning. Grinning.
Carrie, looking at Janie. Only a few minutes before the shark comes.
Carrie, crying out, “Help him! Save him!”
Janie concentrates, staring Carrie in the eyes. “Ask me, Carrie. Ask me.”
He’s bobbing and sinking, that eerie grin on his face.
“Help him!” she cries again to Janie.
Carrie! thinks Janie with all her might. I can’t help him. Ask me. Ask me to help . . . you.
In the morning, Carrie remarks at breakfast, “I had the weirdest dream. It was one of these nightmares that I keep getting about Carson, but this time, it all changed and turned into this strange little . . . something. It was surreal.”
“Yeah?” munched Janie. “Cool. Must be the feng shui over here or something.”
“You think?”
“I dunno. Try rearranging your room, and then at night, tell yourself that you’re going to change the nightmares from now on to work with your new harmonious surroundings.”
Carrie gives her a suspicious look. “Are you yanking my chain?”
“Of course not.”
December 12, 2005, 5:16 p.m.
Janie drives home slowly after a long afternoon at Heather Home. With the holidays on the way, the aides try to fit in some decorating in the schedule, along with their regular duties. And Janie managed to help three residents find some peace in their dreams. It was a decent day.
On a whim, she drives past Cabel’s house, and is surprised to see his car in the driveway. She slows and pulls into the drive, leaving Ethel running.
She sprints to the front door and knocks briskly.
The door opens, and Cabel gives her a look. “Hey, Janie, what’s up?” He’s making signals with his eyes when Shay comes up from behind him and peers over his shoulder. She wraps her arms around his waist possessively.
“Hey, Janie,” says Shay, a look of triumph in her eyes.
Janie grins, thinking fast. “Oh, hi, Shay. Sorry to disturb. Cabel, I’m wondering if you have those math notes you said I could borrow for tomorrow’s exam?”
Cabel’s eyes flash a message of gratitude. “Yeah,” he says. “Be right back. You want to come in?”
“Nah. My shoes are wet from the snow.”
Cabel reappears and hands her a bunch of papers, rolled up and secured in a rubber band. “We’re heading out to a party now,” he says, “But I kind of need these back tonight, since the exam’s in the morning. How late can I stop by to get them?”
Shay bobs over his shoulder, intent on seeing and being seen. Janie notices Cabel has slowly straightened his posture and is standing at full height, and Shay has to jump to see past him. Janie masks a laugh. “I’ll be up late, but I can put them in the mailbox for you before I go to bed. Thanks, Cabel. Have fun at the party, you guys! I’m sooo jealous.”
Janie trots back to Ethel and heads for home, only a little melancholy over the scene she has just witnessed. She brings the notes in, changes her clothes, and gets out
her books.
She pages through the papers Cabel gave her, hoping he didn’t give her anything important, since she didn’t actually need his stuff. In the middle of the pile, a scribbled note:
I miss you like crazy.
Love, Cabe.
She smiles, missing him. Wanting this mess to be over. She thinks about how he was willing to quit the job, wreck the months of progress the detectives had made, just to get things right with her.
Captain is right. He’s a good guy.
Janie studies past midnight, partly hoping Cabe will come over. By one a.m., she’s nodding over her work. She calls it a night and gathers Cabe’s notes to put them in the mailbox. In case he comes for them. In case Shay is with him, and he has to pretend.
She writes a note and slips it inside the papers, then rolls them up and sets them outside in the mailbox.
She’s happy she can sleep in, but checks her alarm clock twice to make sure it’s set. The first exam starts at 10:30 a.m. tomorrow.
And she needs to ace it.
So she can get a scholarship.
Because without that, U of M is just an uncatchable dream.
December 13, 2005, 2:45 a.m.
When the phone rings, Janie jumps. She thinks it’s the alarm clock for one confused moment, but by the fourth ring she’s lunging for it.
Hoping it’s Cabel.
Hoping he’s standing outside, wanting to see her.
“Hello,” she croaks, and clears the sleep from her voice.
She hears sniffling. “Janieeee,” cries a voice.
“Who is this?”
“Janieee, it’s me.”
“Carrie? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“Oh fuck, Janie,” Carrie mourns, “I’m so messed up.”
“Where are you? Do you need a ride? Carrie, get it together, girl. Are you drunk?”
“My parents are gonna kill me.”
Janie sighs.
Waits.
Listens to the sniffling.
“Carrie. Where are you.”
“I’m in jail,” she says finally, and the sobbing starts fresh.
“What? Right here in Fieldridge? What the hell did you do?”
“Can you just come get me?”
Janie sighs. “How much, Carrie?”
“Five hundred bennies,” she says. “I’ll pay you back. Every cent. Plus interest. I promise, so much.” She pauses. “Oh, and Janie?”
