Family Storms (42 page)

“How could you give her something like that? I guess I shouldn't ask. Look what you gave me.”

“You're right. It was a terrible thing to do.”

“You didn't seem sorry when I saw you this week.”

“I was, but I was afraid to show it.”

“Your friends mean too much to you,” I said.

He almost smiled. “You're pretty smart, Sasha. I wasn't with you just to do what Kiera wanted.”

“It doesn't matter now,” I said. “How seriously ill is she?”

“I don't know. Bad, I guess. They said she was having trouble breathing.”

“Why was she so reckless?”

“She was just intent on having the best time ever. Actually, I thought she was doing the drugs to try to break out of a depression, not to have a great time. She was acting weird to start with, so I was nervous, and then this happened. Luckily, no one else went for any of the G before she had her reaction, but they would have, I'm sure. We all could be in there,” he said, looking down and shaking his head. “Damn.”

He looked up at me. “I didn't know the truth about you until tonight. No one except Deidre did, I guess. When Kiera told us about your mother and the accident … Well, I think what she did bothers her more than she'd ever admit, which is another reason I think she went so heavily for the G. Of course, the others, like me, were surprised to hear the details about you. It made me feel pretty lousy. All this time, I thought you were just another spoiled relative of Kiera's. It's a poor excuse, I know, but I just wanted to say it. If the police ask you anything, you can tell them whatever
you want. I won't deny it. Sorry,” he said again, and walked back into the emergency waiting room.

I remained outside for a while, just pacing. When I looked through the glass doors, I saw the two policemen talking to Kiera's friends. Ricky stood up and walked out with them. He glanced my way as they led him to the patrol car. After he got into the rear, they drove off. When I turned back to the emergency room, I saw the rest of them at the door. They had been watching, too. They parted to make way for me when I entered, which was just when Mrs. March came out, too.

“Donald's here,” she told me. “He came in through the main entrance and was brought to Kiera. He's with her now. We're going to wait for a specialist in a different lounge. If you want to go home, I'll get a taxi.”

“No, I'd rather wait with you, if that's all right.”

She looked at Kiera's friends, and they all turned away. “I've very disappointed in you, Deidre. In all of you,” she added.

Deidre started to cry.

“I'm getting this in bits and pieces,” she said, turning back to me, “but I have a feeling you've been misjudged. Come along.”

I looked back at the others. They were like people in a desert craving some water. No one was going to talk to them to tell them anything about Kiera. I went over to Deidre.

“Mr. March is here. They're expecting a specialist to examine Kiera.”

“Thank you,” she said. “We were told to stay here. Two other patrol cars are coming to get us, and our parents are
being informed. I'm sorry about what we did to you,” she added.

I didn't say thank you. I didn't say she should be. I simply nodded and hurried after Mrs. March. Someone from the hospital brought us to a private room outside the hospital administrator's office. He offered us something to drink and went off to get it.

“Donald and I make big contributions to this hospital,” Mrs. March told me as a way of explaining our VIP treatment. “We'll soon see what good that does us.” The man returned with some coffee for her and a soft drink for me. “Please let my husband know we're up here,” she said, and he left.

As I looked at her now, I thought back to when I had first seen her in the hospital ward. She was so elegant, impressive, and powerful. I'd had no idea who she was and why she was there, but I had sensed that she had the power to get things done. Now, sipping her coffee and curling herself in the corner of the sofa, she looked so much smaller and as pathetic as some of the homeless women Mama and I had known as regulars on the streets. When I had gotten to know some of them, I often felt sorrier for them than I did for us. Many had children who had disowned them, or they had lost children, husbands, and all their friends. We were all hobos looking for a handout of love.

Just as I felt Mrs. March was now. It struck me that neither she nor Mr. March ever talked much about relatives. Their money and their power had lifted them into another realm, and if I did hear Mr. March talk about cousins and uncles, it was always in reference to some fear that they
would be asking for money. I had never fully realized until now how lonely the three of them really were. They barely had each other, and now it was possible that after losing their younger daughter, they would lose their older one, too. As miserable as Kiera could be, she still filled some of the empty places in their lives. Their home was too kind to tragic memories. It welcomed them. They would never go away. They could live forever in the dark, empty hallways and rooms. Every shadow would protect a ghost, and there were already too many there.

“She'll be all right,” I said.

Mrs. March nodded softly. “Why does she have to go to drugs for a good time? Why could she never see how dangerous it is?”

I didn't know what to say to her. We both sat sipping our drinks and waiting. At one point, she looked as if she had fallen asleep. I was very tired, too, but I wouldn't close my eyes.

I lost track of time, but finally, Mr. March, looking exhausted and defeated, that tall, self-confident posture gone, came into the lounge. His face was ashen. She looked up quickly.

“Mat Kindle is examining her,” he said. Then he noticed me. “I got Deidre aside before the police returned for her and the others,” he said. “What more can you tell us about this?”

“She wasn't there, Donald.”

“I know, but she might know something,” he said. “Something more. Well?”

I told him all that Ricky had told me about the party. I
used his words to describe why Kiera had wanted the drug. I made a special effort not to sound happy or satisfied.

He nodded. “That's more or less how Deidre described it. She told me the rest, too,” he added.

“What rest?” Mrs. March asked.

“It appears Sasha was telling us the truth about it all. They did a very cruel, sick thing to her at Kiera's bidding, I'm afraid.” He turned to me. “I'll look into how we can get that tattoo off you.”

I saw the mixed feelings in Mrs. March's face. She was happy for me but devastated about Kiera.

“We've got changes to make after this is over,” Mr. March said. “Everything got out of hand. It's my fault. You were always right, Jordan. I'm sorry.”

She started to cry. He went to her and held her. The two of them looked destroyed. Every part of me wanted to feel good, to feel vindicated and happy about their misery, but I couldn't stop myself from crying, too. Alena was there in me, I thought. I moved over on the sofa and found Mrs. March's hand. Mr. March looked at me, and then the two of them embraced me.

It was the way the doctor found us.

The three of us looked up at him.

“She took a severe dosage of this crap,” he began. He was a short, stocky man with a dark brown mustache but a nearly bald head. I thought he looked more like one of those professional wrestlers on television, even in his suit and tie.

“What is it, exactly?” Mr. March asked.

“Technically, gamma-hydroxybutyric acid, known on
the street as GHB or just G. It looks like plain water, but if you tasted it, you'd immediately know it wasn't. So there's no chance it was a mistake unless someone snuck it into a drink. That happens, but I don't think so this time.”

“No, it didn't. You're right, Mat,” Mr. March said.

“Why do they take it?” Mrs. March asked.

Dr. Kindle laughed. “You have a few days to hear the sociological and psychological explanations for the drug culture? Kids are taking it because it makes them feel energetic, sensual, intoxicated. They grow talkative, high. They even call it Liquid Ecstasy. People who take it often pass out. That's not unusual with this junk. In street talk, that's ‘carpeting out' or ‘scooping out.' It has a dramatic effect on respiration. If they hadn't gotten Kiera here quickly, she would most surely have died.”

“How is she now?” Mrs. March asked in a soft, frightened voice.

“We have her breathing stabilized. I can't tell you exactly how much longer she'll remain in this coma, but it's usually not for days or weeks. In most cases, it's hours. We're moving her to a private room, and I have a private nurse there already, Donald. We'll need to do a full evaluation of her, of course, and see if there has been any other organ damage. This is one of those drugs there are not enough statistics on, because it leaves the body after twelve hours. More people have probably died from it than has been reported. Young people,” he added.

“Thanks, Mat,” Mr. March said, rising. “What room is she in?”

“Three-forty. I'll be up in a little while, too,” he said.

Mrs. March stood up and took her husband's hand. Then she turned to me and held out her other hand for me. I rose quickly, took it, and walked with them to the elevator.

Our lives really do move in circles,
I thought as we went up to Kiera's room. My life with the Marches had begun with my being in a hospital, and there I was again in a hospital with not much more time before my life with them would end.

Although they had both already seen Kiera, the sight of her in the hospital bed with her body connected to the monitors froze them. When I looked at her, I thought she had begun to fade away. Her rich complexion was washed out. Her skin looked grayer. Her hair was still beautiful, but the loose strands on the pillow reflected the havoc that surely had preceded all of this in the ambulance and the emergency room. Caught in the frenzy to save her life, she had been poked and prodded, tossed and turned, and attached to machinery. She seemed more like a doll that had been violently shaken until parts of it were beginning to detach themselves.

I still wanted to harden my heart against her, but Alena was pushing me forward. I could almost hear her pleading,
Help her. Help her.

I went to the side of her bed. Her nurse stood back, and the Marches stood at the foot of the bed. I pulled a chair to the bed and sat, and then I reached for her hand.

“I know the truth about you, Kiera,” I said. “I know you are in more pain than anger, and all you did to me and now have done to yourself was your way of covering up that pain. Don't be afraid of it anymore. It's there to clean away
your guilt so you can live. Live for your parents. Live for the people who are waiting to love you. And live for Alena.”

I let go of her hand, stood up, and put the chair back.

“I'll wait for you downstairs, Mrs. March,” I said. I was sure they wanted to be alone with their daughter.

Neither of them said anything to me. They watched me leave. I fell asleep for a while in the waiting room. Mrs. March woke me, and for a few moments, I really didn't know where I was.

“She's coming out of it,” she said, smiling through happy tears. “She has to be fully evaluated yet, but Dr. Kindle thinks the worst might be over.”

“Good,” I said, and got up.

“Donald's waiting for us in the parking lot. He's leaving his car here. He wants us to go home together.”

I saw him standing by the car. He got in when he saw us and started the engine. I got into the rear quickly, and Mrs. March got in beside him. No one spoke for the longest time. I nearly fell asleep again, but when we reached the gate and it opened, Mr. March did not drive in. Instead, he turned to look at me.

“Thank you for what you said to Kiera in there, Sasha. You are a remarkable young lady after all. I apologize for the things I said to you.”

I didn't know what to say. He was still staring at me, and we weren't moving. The gate remained wide open, and the March mansion loomed ahead, many lights on. I imagined that Mrs. Duval and Mrs. Caro and the others were all waiting for news.

“Maybe Mrs. March was right,” he continued. “Maybe
you are the daughter we lost. Maybe in an ironic and terribly painful way for us all, Kiera brought you here. I know this,” he said as he turned around to drive in. “You're not leaving until you're old enough to say good-bye and be on your own.”

Smiling, Mrs. March reached back for my hand. I took hers, and the three of us drove up the grand driveway to the waiting mansion.

And for the first time since I had arrived there, I felt that I was really coming home.

Epilogue