Crooked Little Lies (23 page)

“It seems as if you’re having a particularly rough time lately.” Shelly removed the needle. Her voice, her motions were efficient, matter-of-fact, and yet Lauren sensed her kindness, too.

“I thought I would be so much better by now,” Lauren said. “It’s been almost two years.”

“You know there’s no timetable, that you may never recover in a way that’s completely familiar. When so much damage is done, the brain is forced to heal in whatever way it can. It makes new connections. It changes things.” Shelly capped the vial that held Lauren’s blood. “It’ll be a few days before we get the results.”

“You’ll call?”

“Yes, of course.”

Lauren rolled down her sleeve. “I know I’m not right, but I know how I feel when I take Oxy, and how I feel now isn’t like that.”

“Well”—Shelly bent to look into Lauren’s eyes—“if it’s any comfort, you don’t exhibit any of the signs. Your reflexes are fine and so are your pupils. You’re lucid; your speech is clear.” She straightened. “You’ll make an appointment to see Dr. Bettinger before you go? He’s out until week after next, but we’ll work you in ASAP after that.”

Lauren said she would. She didn’t mention Tara’s suggestion that maybe, rather than Bettinger, Lauren needed to see a shrink.

She went to Tara’s house after she left the medical center, where Jeff said he had taken Drew earlier when he couldn’t find Lauren.

Tara’s car was in the driveway, and Lauren parked behind it. Her hand shook, reaching to switch off the ignition, and she realized she was afraid to see her own sister, her own son. How had it happened? How had her family members, the ones she loved and trusted most in the world, become her fearful enemies? Or was this another game her brain had invented, another mental trick? Would that stupid accident and her even more stupid drug use cost her everything before they were done with her? She tipped her head to the seatback, closing her eyes.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again
. . .

The fragment from the nursery rhyme ran across her brain.

A sharp rapping on the driver’s-side window made her jump. Her gaze jerked toward the sound, and she flinched, for a split second not recognizing the woman whose face loomed at her.

“Tara?”

Their eyes locked through the glass.

“You can’t come inside.” Tara waved her arm, a wild, go-away gesture.

“Tara, for heaven’s sake. Drew’s here. Of course I’m coming inside.” Lauren started to open the door.

“No!” Tara pushed it closed, nearly catching Lauren’s foot.

“What is wrong with you?” Lauren shouted through the glass, and now her glance registered certain details about Tara’s appearance: her hair that normally fell in shiny waves to her shoulders was oily-looking and unkempt and gathered into a messy ponytail. The old T-shirt she wore had stains on the front. Vomit? Was Tara that ill? With Drew in the house, exposed to whatever it was? “Let me out,” Lauren said, putting her shoulder against the door. “Whatever you’ve got, I don’t want Drew coming down with it.”

“I’m not sick. It isn’t that. It’s one hell of a lot worse.”

“Is it Greg, then?” Lauren fumbled with the keys, hunting the one for the ignition. She would get the window down at least. But before she could manage it, Tara yanked open the car door.

“Do you know where he is? Have you heard from him?”

So it was about Greg.
“I haven’t, TeeRee, and I’m really sorry if he’s back on heroin again, but it’s not your fault. It’s not even personal. There’s more to his story than you know.”

“Oh God, Lauren, shut up! Just shut up!” Tara backed away, clapping her hands over her ears, turning in a circle.

Lauren’s stomach twisted in sympathy, but then she heard Tara say something about Jeff, that he’d called. Lauren thought she heard Tara say they’d discussed Lauren.
Your
latest stunt,
Tara said. Lauren was convinced that was how Tara phrased it, that she’d used the word
stunt
. She was certain, too, of Tara’s judgment, her derision, and her heart was impaled on a spike of rage so hot, she pressed her fist to her chest. She was out of the car nearly before she could register moving, grabbing Tara’s shoulder, spinning her around. “You’re not getting away with it, do you hear me?”

Tara only stared, mute. She looked terrified.

“Don’t play the innocent with me,” Lauren warned. “I’m not that stupid or so far gone that I can’t—” She broke off, and the sense of it, of what was really going on crystallized in her mind. “You’re having an affair with Jeff.”

“Oh, for God’s sake—”

“It won’t work, you know, having me declared unfit, or whatever it is you’re planning.”

“This is nuts, even for you. He barely tolerates me, and you know it.”

Lauren stared at Tara.

“C’mon, Lauren. He thinks I’m the original dumb blonde, the one all the jokes are made about. He thought that about me the first time he met me, and I didn’t think much of him, either. Still don’t.”

Lauren backed up a step. “Really? I’m amazed.” It was only in the smallest corner of her mind that she was aware of how she’d jumped from condemning Jeff to defending him. “I thought you would put all that behind you, especially since he’s the one who got you out of all your financial trouble. You would have lost your house if it weren’t for him. You’d have nothing saved for retirement.”

“Hah!” Tara’s laugh was ugly. “As if he didn’t get what he wanted for the favor—my share of our parents’ business, the one our daddy started. It’s what he wanted all along. He’d love it if I’d just disappear. Forever. For all I know, he feels the same way about you.”

“That isn’t true.”

In the tightly coiled silence, Lauren could feel her blood pounding in her temples. “Where is this coming from, TeeRee?” she asked finally. “You came to us, remember? You suggested the buyout. Jeff even tried to talk you out of it. If I remember right, he said you should let this house go, that there’d always be the opportunity to buy another, but losing your share of the business Mama and Daddy built—” Lauren’s throat closed. She swallowed. “I don’t understand why you’re saying all these terrible things.”

Tara didn’t answer, and Lauren couldn’t interpret her expression. Maybe it was how your sister looked if she was sleeping with your husband and determined to deny it. “Talk to me,” she insisted. “Tell me the truth.”

No response.

Tara remained as still as a trapped mouse, staring into the distance, as if she hadn’t heard Lauren or had forgotten her presence, and in the moment Lauren had to observe Tara, she was struck anew at how utterly diminished Tara appeared. And an idea surfaced, that it wasn’t a stomach virus Tara was suffering from, but something much worse, something awful like cancer—of the breast, pancreas, bone. Panic broke through Lauren’s veins. She opened her hand, a plea, an appeal. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”

“Oh, Jesus, Lauren, no. Just go.” She came at Lauren, taking one step, two, and the movement was hostile, menacing, as it was meant to be.

It shocked Lauren even as it confused and angered her. What game was this? “Let me tell you something, Tara. You aren’t taking my children. Do you understand? You and Jeff can have each other—”

“Are we back to that?” Tara laughed, a single, harsh syllable. “You’re insane.”

“Probably,” Lauren said. “But you’re not giving me anything else to blame for the irrational way you’re acting, so I want us to be clear that I’ll fight you and Jeff with everything I have in me. I will die before I let you take Drew and Kenzie away from me. Do you understand? I will make your and Jeff’s lives a living hell.”

“Go ahead.” Tara thrust up her chin, but her voice was oddly flat. “My life’s not worth shit nowadays anyway.”

Lauren was nonplussed. “Are you lying about being sick, then? I mean really sick. Are you? Please, tell me.”

“You don’t want to know, and you can believe
me
about that.” Tara’s stare was needle sharp and unrelenting.

Lauren felt pierced by it; she felt she might cry out from the pain of it.

“Go home, Lauren.” Tara repeated Jeff’s admonition.

“No,” Lauren said, brushing by her. “Not until I get my son.”

“You’ll only upset him. He doesn’t want to see you.”

Lauren wheeled. “Why are you doing this? I’m your sister. Why are you lying?”

“She isn’t lying, Mom.”

Lauren spun around. Drew was on the porch in his sock feet, a practice she frowned on. Noting it was automatic, as was registering that the jeans he had on, a pair she’d bought him just weeks ago, were already too short. She saw that his hair was rumpled, and she recognized the look on his face, the knotted corners of his mouth, the flash in his eyes that signified he was ready to do battle. His boundaries were drawn, and he dared her to cross them.
Jeff
, she thought. Jeff had poisoned Drew’s mind, too. “I don’t know what Dad told you—”

“He said you’re back on the Oxy.”

“I’m not, Drew. I promise.”

“C’mon, Mom! He said you told him you found it in the study, and you said you flushed it, but the way you’ve been acting, I don’t believe it. Like last night—what was that? You were outside passed out when the sprinklers were going. Dad said you didn’t even know your name. Then today you forgot Kenzie. You never used to do stuff like that, not until you got on dope. It’s your fault she got hurt.”

A sound came; Lauren felt it more than she heard it, the small, protesting cry that broke from her chest. She covered her mouth with her hands, taking a step toward Drew. She had the idea, and it was wrong, she knew it was, given the mutiny in his eyes, that she would comfort him, reassure him as if she were his
BTA
mother and not the person he now detested and for whom he had lost all respect. Or maybe she took the step toward him because—just as it had been with Kenzie—her body refused to register his antipathy for her, and when he said, “Stay away from me,” even though she’d almost expected to hear this very thing from him, she was stunned, and her ears rang as if he’d slapped her.

Nearby, the sound of a car door slamming exploded into the taut, wounding silence, and a bird cried, a harsh mockery of notes. A blue jay, Lauren thought incongruously. Why, when they were capable of producing a full-throated and lovely song, did blue jays seem to prefer making this more raucous noise? She’d never known. It was a mystery to her.

Lauren gathered herself; she straightened her spine. “You need to get your things and come home with me,” she said, addressing Drew, and she managed to summon at least the shadow of her customary authority. “Now,” she said when he didn’t move.

“I’m not letting you drive me anywhere when you’re trashed, Mom.”

Lauren thought of saying that her blood was being tested, that the result would prove she was drug-free. But that was only her word. He’d never accept it. He’d have it his way, no matter what she did anyway. They both knew it, knew she couldn’t bodily drag him off the porch and down the drive to the car. He was already an inch taller and outweighed her by forty pounds. He showed every sign of being as big a man as his dad. Drew’s size pleased her as did Kenzie’s slender, fine-boned stature and delicate beauty. Lauren realized she took credit for her children’s appearances; she felt validated by their good looks, their glowing health. She didn’t know if that was bad or good. She didn’t know if it was bad or good to feel that without her children, she might lose herself; she might even die.

“Lauren?” Tara spoke from behind her.

Her hand shot out. “Stay out of it,” she said without looking at her sister. She found Drew’s gaze again. “I’ll leave you here, since it’s what you want. But when Kenzie is released tomorrow and your dad brings her home, you’re coming home, too. Do you understand me?”

He didn’t answer, and it infuriated her, but it was useless to argue. Drew and Jeff and Tara had closed ranks against her. Even Kenzie had turned her back. They were acting in concert, shutting Lauren out. Her sense that this was true both heated her blood and chilled it.

She turned on her heel and went to her car. She would not let them see how deeply they had wounded her.

“I’m sorry,” Tara called after her, and her voice was plaintive, broken. It was very like the voice she had used when they were children and she wanted Lauren’s forgiveness for breaking some valued possession of Lauren’s, for ruining it.

Lauren paused outside her SUV and glanced back at her sister, wondering if she had lost Tara forever.

“It’s not anything you think,” she said. “As bad as that is, I almost wish it was, but it isn’t.”

Tara’s regret seemed genuine, as if she were truly convinced of Lauren’s misunderstanding, or else it was a trick, one more in the bag of them Tara and Jeff were holding. Still, something in Tara’s demeanor gave Lauren pause, and for a moment, she considered hashing it out with Tara, making her explain herself, but she was suddenly tired of it all, the drama, the riddles. Tired of trying to prove she wasn’t on anything. Tired of trying to sort out what was real and what wasn’t. The truth shouldn’t be so hard.

She set her foot on the Navigator’s running board, and thinking aloud, she addressed Tara. “You’ll bring Drew home tomorrow when Kenzie is released.” Lauren wasn’t asking. “We’re going to sit down and clear the air.”

“No, don’t argue,” she said when Tara opened her mouth. “We can’t go on this way. We’ll lose everything, our family. Is that what you want?”

Tara looked away, adding weight to Lauren’s unease, raising the fine hairs on her arms, the nape of her neck. She glanced toward Tara’s front porch, but Drew had disappeared.

“Don’t worry,” Tara said. “He’s not staying here. I told Jeff he can’t. It’s just not possible.”

“No, it isn’t,” Lauren agreed, and then she waited, unsure why, what she hoped for—a glimpse of the little girl she had mothered? But Tara’s eyes were empty in a way that alarmed Lauren even as she felt crushed with sorrow, and fighting the hot bite of tears, she turned from Tara, damned if she would let her sister see her cry.