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It suddenly becomes crystal clear, at least to me, what has happened. Blair despises brownies. She wouldn’t have touched them. But Naomi had been consuming small portions that Greg or I had doled out over the past several days. Lucy finished off the entire pan.
The point at which he asks if I have proof the br
ownies were delivered is the point when my cool facade fades. My back against the wall, I sink down into the hard plastic chair in the emergency room waiting area. Tears well in my eyes as I realize this is never going to end. There is no limit to the amount of damage that can be done. Through sobs, I relay everything, all the stuff about Mooney I can think of. I choke out words that all sound jumbled. Everything blends together. He’s ineffective, but he tries to calm me. He has obviously seen the police reports about the harassment, about Mooney delivering donuts to the girls’ school.
He plays good cop, explaining that he is here to help. Like Greg, he too seems to suffer an allergy against tears. It is clear when he firmly asks again how we might track the brownies. I give him Dana’s number and Sarah’s number and send him a link to the care calendar online.
I can see that he doesn’t believe me, and while I realize that is his job, the insinuation that I would—that I could—poison not only our beloved babysitter, whom I have known since she was a kid herself, but also my own daughter, is too much. It enrages me. And at the same time, I feel dead inside.
All along the police have been of little help. I offer this to him in explicit detail, explaining everything that I have been through, saying that it is next to impossible to get a restraining order in the state of Texas unless you have had a relationship of a sexual or romantic nature. Through gritted teeth, I ask him for an explanation as to why in most cases jurors’ names are not kept anonymous. He listens carefully, but offers no answers, and little to no sympathy. In the end, he seems eager to end the conversation. He tells me he plans to follow up on the leads I have given him, including the info about Jack Mooney, and that he’ll be in touch, and then he leaves.
Greg finally arrives. Just watching him come through the double doors provides a calming effect. Before he sees me, I note his expression. It’s pained and worried and tired. But when his eyes find mine, everything shifts. He offers a small smile, and I think, this is why I married you. This is why I am still married to you. This is why I cannot live without you.
Naomi is treated with Dimercaprol, and the doctors say as long as she doesn’t have any adverse side effects she will be able to go home as early as tomorrow. Once she was settled on a floor, Greg sends me to pick up Blair. He’s staying overnight with Naomi so I can get some rest.
When Blair and I arrive home, the neighbor is sitting in our drive. He’s just seated there on the pavement, with his knees up to his chest, sort of rocking back and forth. When my headlights land on him, and thank God they do, he looks up and stares back at me wildly, like a frightened animal. And he seems surprised to see me.
Putting the car in park, I open my door and get out, using it as a sort of buffer between him and myself. “Are you okay?”
He shakes his head back and forth, the same way he had earlier. “How is she?”
“Lucy?” I really don’t want to have to break it to him that she probably isn’t going to make it through the night. But I suppose he knows that already. These days news travels fast.
His eyes shift, portraying confusion. “Naomi.”
It strikes me as odd that he knows my daughter’s name. But then, he lives next door. “She’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have left the hospital if I weren’t,” I say, glancing back at the car. Blair, who was asleep in the backseat, has woken up and is staring at me wide-eyed and expectantly, as though she’s caught her second wind. “It’s late,” I tell Theo. “And you shouldn’t be out here. It’s cold.”
“My mother refuses to let me in the house. She’s going to send me back to that place.”
“What place?”
“Not the hospital,” Blair gasps. She has leaned her head out the door, and with a shy smile, she waves. “I’m sure she’s lying. Mommies always do that.”
“She’s not lying,” Theo says. “I’ve done something terrible.”
Blair looks at me and back at the neighbor. “It’s okay. I do lots of bad things.” She shrugs. “Daddy always says mommy is full of—”
“Empty threats,” I tell her. “Daddy says I am full of empty threats.”
“You really shouldn’t have repairmen coming and going when you’re not home. That’s what mother is mad about. She says it’s none of my business. She says I’m getting paranoid again. It’s the medication.”
“Repairmen? You mean the roofer?”
He looks away. Eye contact is not his favorite thing.
“Well, you guys have repairmen all the time. Since the fire…”
His voice changes. “We don’t have children.”
With resignation, I gather Blair from the car, cast and all, and we hobble to Mrs. Crump’s front door. “Mrs. Crump? It’s Amy Stone. From next door. Can you please open up? I need to talk to you.”
Blair looks at me. Theo waits on the steps. Somewhere around the fourth set of knocks, the old woman opens the door. “Hi. Good evening.” My voice comes out unnaturally high-pitched and nervous, as it strikes me I have no idea what I am going to say.
“What can I do for you?” she asks gruffly.
