My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,58

running some tests on Lisa, so we had to wait awhile longer before we could see her. We returned to our seats in the waiting room. It was already after midnight, but I don’t think any of us were very tired.

We sat there in silence for a long while, half watching a Seinfeld rerun on the waiting room’s fuzzy TV.

My phone buzzed.

Any more news on the commercial? When do you shoot?

I turned the phone off. I couldn’t think about Ty or the commercial right now; there was something I needed to confess. “It was my fault,” I said into the quiet.

“What was your fault, honey?” Papa asked.

“Lisa taking the drugs. I confronted her today. I pretty much screamed in her face, blaming her for everything and telling her what a terrible mother she is going to be to the new baby.” I took a deep breath. “That’s why she did the drugs. It was because of what I said.”

Papa opened his mouth to respond but I kept talking.

“And I should have named the baby.” I was suddenly feeling guilty about that too.

“What do you mean?” Papa said.

“Lisa asked me to name the baby. Maybe if I’d done that, she would have felt like I cared more and wouldn’t have gone and done this.”

Dad and Papa looked at each other.

“Lucy,” Dad said, “Lisa took the drugs because she has a problem. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled. I knew the truth.

A short time later, a nurse told us we could go in and see her. She was propped up in the hospital bed, a white blanket covering her large belly, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and IVs.

I don’t think my dads knew what to say any better than I did. The air was thick. I stayed close to the door, not saying much of anything. I’d said enough today.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asked.

“Better. The pain is gone,” she said.

“That’s good.”

Then Papa spoke up. “Lisa, you have to be honest with us. I thought the whole point of you staying with us during the pregnancy was because you wanted to stay healthy. What the hell happened?”

“I do want to stay healthy,” Lisa insisted. “But it’s hard.”

“That’s not an explanation,” Papa said.

Lisa shrugged.

“Where did you get the cocaine?” Papa asked.

“From Serge.”

“Serge? Who the hell is Serge?”

“He’s a guy I met a couple months ago.”

“You’re not telling me you’ve been doing drugs for a couple of months…?”

“Like you care!” Lisa said.

“Lisa,” Dad stepped in, clearly trying to set an example with his calm voice, “of course we care.”

“Could have fooled me. No one has even looked at me twice in the last two months. The two of you are so bloody consumed with Lucy all the time. ‘Why is Lucy so down in the dumps?’” she said in a terrible American accent, mocking my dads. “‘Oh gee, I hope Lucy’s okay.’ ‘Let’s have our little secret family meetings with Lucy and not invite Lisa to any of them.’ ‘We’re going to the city with Lucy, Lisa. You can fend for yourself for dinner.’”

We stared at her in shock.

“I swear, I don’t even know why you had me come to live with you in the first place. At least Serge understands me.” She crossed her arms firmly over her expanded middle, sulking.

Papa was at her bedside in two broad strides. He put his face close to hers and spoke fiercely. “You want our attention? You got it. For the next three months you will be watched like a hawk. You will not go anywhere near so much as an aspirin until that baby is born, do you understand me? And once the baby is out, so are you. You will never be welcome in our home again.”

Papa stormed out of the hospital room, and Dad and I followed wordlessly, too stunned to do anything else.

“Lucy, I hope you see now that none of this was even remotely your fault. That vile woman is a lost cause,” Papa growled as we fled the scene.

We exited the hospital to find that it had begun to snow.

29

Maybe This Time

Heavy snow canceled school Thursday and Friday. That meant rehearsals too. It wasn’t the best timing, what with the show set to open in a week, but it was just as well, because after what had happened with Lisa, I hadn’t been sleeping very well and I was grateful to have time to recuperate.

I had the house all to myself. We were rid of Lisa for at