hot potato nobody wants. And, if I’m painfully honest, I’m not sure I’m ready for him home with me yet, not that DCF would make such an offer. My life still feels like a mess, and whenever I’d imagined getting Dylan back, I always had it all together—emotionally, mentally, physically, financially.
The silence in the room stretches on. Emma picks at the frayed cuff of her oversized cardigan, her head lowered. Nick rocks on his heels. Ally sways where she stands, and Dylan watches me with that wary expression I feel like an accusation, a judgment.
“All I’m saying is, it’s good to communicate about these things,” I finally say. “It all starts to fall apart if you keep secrets.”
“We’re not keeping—” Nick begins, but he falls silent at a look from Ally.
“You’re right,” she tells me. “You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry.” Her apology has the effect of silencing me, because what can I say to that? Damn straight I’m right?
Nick glances at the clock above the stove, and then quickly looks away. It’s nearly eight o’clock at night.
“I should go,” I say. “Monica told you that I have two visits a week now, Tuesdays and Saturdays?”
“Yes, she mentioned that,” Ally says.
“So I’ll come by at one on Saturday.”
“All right.”
I look at Dylan, and he looks away. Everyone watches as I walk up to him and crouch down so I’m eye level with him, holding him by his skinny shoulders. “Bye, Dyl,” I say, and he doesn’t respond—doesn’t put his arms around me, doesn’t meet my gaze. Slowly, I straighten. I don’t mean to meet Ally’s eye, but I do, and she smiles sympathetically, which makes me grit my teeth. I don’t need her pity. She’s the one with the suicidal kid, not me.
I turn around and walk out of the kitchen, and no one says goodbye. Ally follows me, though, hurrying to reach the front door before I do. She puts one hand on it and I stop, waiting.
“Beth, I am sorry.”
“Fine.”
“I know what this must look like, feel like, but I promise you Dylan is being taken care of. He’s so sweet—I feel as if we talk together, even when he doesn’t say a word.” Like I used to with him.
I put my hand on the doorknob and reluctantly she steps back.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, and I don’t say anything as I open the door and walk out of the house.
24
ALLY
I know now I will forever divide my life into before and after—before Emma tried to kill herself, and after. The trouble is, I have no idea what the after looks like yet. What it will hold.
When I answered that call on Thanksgiving, and I spoke to the nurse in Massachusetts’ General Hospital, I was dazed and numb, barely aware of what she was saying, only catching every other word. Incident… critical… emergency room.
“But she’s going to be okay?” I demanded, my tone almost angry. “She’s going to be okay.”
Nick rose from the table, one arm outstretched. “Ally—”
“I think you should come,” the nurse said quietly, so quietly that we both heard my breath catch and tear.
Nick pumped me with questions as soon as I ended the call, but I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t even know what the nurse had meant by an incident. Had she been hit by a car? Assaulted? Suicide didn’t even occur to me then.
I left maybe ten minutes later, after throwing some clothes in a bag and giving Dylan a quick hug. Nick wanted to come too, but we couldn’t leave Dylan or Josh alone, not considering everything.
“I’ll call you,” I said. “As soon as I can. And if… if you need to come…”
“I will,” Nick said. “Of course I will.”
The two-hour drive to Boston passed in a numb blur. I focused on the road, which was empty, since it was Thanksgiving—everyone had already gone where they needed to go. Every few minutes, my mind would veer towards the terrible unknown—what had happened, why, how bad it was. I couldn’t let myself go down those despairing alleys, and so I’d make myself stop thinking about it, and focus once more on the empty expanse of highway, the occasional eighteen-wheeler rumbling on the other side of the road, its lights flickering over me.
At the hospital, Emma had been moved off ICU into one of the general wards, which was a huge relief, but when the doctor spoke to me in one of those horrible little rooms, it was to tell me she’d overdosed