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The doors slid open, and a cop exited the hospital doors.
He’d been raising a white foam cup, steaming, to his mouth for a sip, but seeing me, he paused. Lowering it, he came the rest of the way. I knew him, recognizing him from so many other “mother” moments. As cops went in Fallen Crest, this one was kind. “Mara,” he said, drawing close enough for him to study my face, and since he was a cop, he was seeing everything. They were trained that way. He gave a small frown and extended his cup. “They weren’t supposed to call you.”
I nodded, feeling dazed but also not sure why I was dazed by this anymore. “It’s on the file.”
He grunted. “They’re trained to protect the patient against anyone trying to get to them. Not the other way around.”
“Yeah.” I knew this. And again, not surprised anymore. I glanced at him, noting some extra tired lines around his eyes. “You got called in for her?”
“I did. Hospital called, but since I’m familiar with you and her, and the situation, I can tell you it doesn’t look like a real attempt. Two cuts on her wrists, horizontal and shallow. Looked scary, I’m sure, and I can also tell you that was probably the motivating factor for why the nurse contacted you the way she did.”
I was nodding, also knowing all of this.
I’m sure she looked at my mom’s file, saw my number was not there, and didn’t read where it said not to contact her daughter. And the nurse knew me from school even though she was a few years older, she’d been in the party crowd. She got my number from someone else who didn’t know the situation and there you have it. I got an alarmed not-really-friend from high school calling me to tell me about my mom’s suicide attempt.
Hearing what Officer Pullen just told me, my mouth went dry.
“My dad in there?”
His eyes narrowed, just for a brief moment before an impassive look came back over him. “You didn’t reach out?”
I shook my head. He knew the deal. If I had, my dad would’ve told me not to come. I hadn’t wanted to hear it.
“He’s in there.”
A nurse came out.
She had a shawl over her shoulders, and she wrapped it around her before her hands went in her scrub’s front pockets. I heard keys jangling from the motion. “I know a part of you is worried and I can tell you that your mom’s going to be just fine.”
I gestured to Officer Pullen. “He said they were shallow cuts.”
“They were. Your mom knows. She knew how to make it look.”
My dad looked at me, a deep determination and resignation filling his gaze. “I’m going to talk to a lawyer, see if I can get a temporary conservatorship over her, make her stay in a hospital for a while.”
My whole chest tightened up.
He raked a hand through his hair. “She’s done enough damage to herself and you.”
He wasn’t including himself, but he was so very much included.
I gave him a look. “It won’t work.”
He gave me a look right back. “I have to try.”
“You’ve been trying since before I was born.”
Cruz was here. I saw him, felt him, heard him, and just sensed him.
“Did you read the article?”
He hunkered down, getting comfortable, but I was angled one way, and he was facing me. After a second, he moved so he was leaning against the dryer, so both our backs were to the same machine. His hand reached for mine, and he entwined our pinkies.
I could handle that. A pinkie touch.
“I just heard about it and heard what it implies.”
“She did an interview with a guy.”
His pinkie tensed. “The writer is a girl.”
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “There’s a video linked to the interview. The writer wrote up the article from that video, but the person who was interviewing her in that video was male. I can tell. She was flirting. She’s dressed in almost nothing. A bikini top and boy shorts. And she was attracted to the guy, whoever he was, because her make-up wasn’t over the top. She dresses for who she’s trying to get attention from. She wanted to fuck him. My guess is that the guy was attractive or had money. And he was younger than her. I could tell that too, by her eyes. She was excited, really excited. And she was biting down on her lip. She only does that if she’s a little nervous, if it’s someone she doesn’t think she can ‘get.’ She usually hates doing that. Says it’s too much of a risk because you could get lipstick on your teeth. That ruins any illusion she’s trying to enact.”
“I think it’s Carrington.”
My gut was gone. There was no more dropping for it, and it made sense. Total and complete sense.
