Jordan means well, but forget it. Nor does it help Kelly to hear from others on the team, at least you have us. The seniors are heading off to different colleges, and most of the juniors – Kelly’s age – are from homes that at least seem okay. She’s a good, sweet kid, an honors student but slipping, and the last several weeks have been bad. It’s terrible to see her spiraling out of control.
They’re talking about a party at the beach tonight. A big, end of year bash.
“Cannot wait,” Kelly says, flopping miserably back against her seat. “Because the only answer is booze and I’m going to get shitfaced, find oblivion.” She looks at Jordan. “Is Hank bringing pot?”
Alarmed, I jump back in. Booze and drugs aren’t the answer! The highs just last minutes, then make you feel worse!
“Not to mention,” I try to say delicately, raising my brows to Kelly, “the physical pain of a hangover. Remember?” I give her a firmer look.
Three nights ago, she had another cry. Around two in the morning, they snuck down to the Clarks’ liquor and went through more than a half bottle of gin. Both were sick until yesterday. The Clarks now feel less optimistic about Kelly in their midst.
They’ve made it known.
Jordan raises her shoulders defensively. “We’ll be careful,” she whines.
Sure they will.
3.
The train bursts from the tunnel into low sunlight. Bright shafts flicker through the car, and sweep outside over 125th Street and then the warehouses and overpasses of the Bronx.
Suddenly Kelly hunches forward with her left hand shielding her eyes, and her right hand gripping her phone. She’s staring at it, reading a text, not listening to Jordan still on the subject of tonight: the party! It will be a blast and Kelly will forget her troubles and meet new guys. Last year’s seniors are coming and bringing friends; how awesome is that?
Kelly starts texting, so excited that the blue butterfly tattoo on her hand seems to fly. “No new guys,” she says. “I’ll be with Brian.”
Jordan’s jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”
Kelly avoids my stare, but must feel it. “Remember, in the theater, when my phone vibrated and I went to the john? It was him. He called.”
“But you broke up with him! He’s trouble!”
“We miss each other. I didn’t mention it ‘cause I wasn’t sure.” Her lips press in resolve. “Now I am. He wants to give it another try.”
“Brian’s the last thing you need!”
“He says he loves me. He’s going to pick me up.”
I feel my breath catch.
“I drove you two down and I’m driving you back,” I say firmly. Neither has her driver’s license yet. “I promised your parents.”
Kelly holds her phone up pleadingly. “But Brian’s waiting at the station. He’s already there.”
I gape at her, look helplessly back to Jordan. She’s still dismayed but just sinks uncertainly down in her seat. Kelly dives back to reading her text, and her cheeks flush. She feels loved again. Her fingers tremble as she texts furiously back.
Now what? I can’t be an insistent begging parent, which doesn’t work anyway - and I can’t start madly calling or texting Terry Payne which would be obvious and harmful to whatever relationship I have with Kelly. I wrestle with it. She’s really gotten too needy, calling and crying over problems as if I’m a girlfriend or some kind of parent substitute. Let her shrink deal with it, I storm at myself, not for the first time. I’m just their lawyer!
So the train rumbles on and I sit here getting worked up, not seeing the getting-prettier Connecticut landscape whiz by. At only eight months in town, I’m still pretty new in my practice. Older lawyers tell me to harden up or it’ll kill you.
Last March, I feared that literally. A husband came after me, drunk and threatening. The police told me he owns a Beretta. And I’d thought I had escaped the violence of the city; ha, surprise.
I feel Kelly’s eyes on me.
“I hope you’re not mad,” she says anxiously. “Are you?”
“Oh Kell,” I sigh, “it’s not about being mad.” Her eyes drop and we’re both lost for words. I fret, then realize we’ve stopped at the Stamford station. Outside, the soaring, glass-and-steel buildings of international banks and brokerage houses, sun glinting lower on them, shadows moving in. It’s been such a long day, and it’s hard to think. Commuters get off and the train starts up again. Jordan looks out at the receding platform, then woods