Don't Fail Me Now(60)

I finally pull myself back together and scrub my face under the ice-cold water, knowing that my red-rimmed eyes and swollen features will give me away in a heartbeat anyway. But at least maybe it’ll get me some sympathy with the nurses. They treated Cass because it was a life-or-death emergency, but when I filled out her intake forms they told me parental consent is required for moving her to the pediatric psych ward, which is protocol for suicide attempts once she recovers. If she recovers.

I plop back down on a chair across from Leah and Denny, who are coloring with the pen he stole from Child Protective Services. Amazingly, the MVP of this disaster is turning out to be Leah, who has been calmly distracting Denny for hours now, discreetly showing him YouTube clips on her phone, walking him back and forth to the water fountain, and even making a DIY bowling alley with upside-down Dixie cups and a crumpled page of Prevention magazine. All this time I assumed Tim was the strong one, but now I’m not so sure. Because right now he’s freaked out and pacing, making things even more tense, while she’s quietly and unassumingly locking shit down. I’ve always assumed that’s what I do in my family—hold it together, balance out the crazy. But maybe I’m not the strong one. I certainly don’t feel strong right now. I feel like I’m unraveling.

“Hey,” Tim says, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the corner, next to a potted palm. “Are you okay? You look . . .” He pauses to consider his options before making a save with “upset.”

“I am upset. My sister tried to kill herself.” I look past his face to a pastel painting of a sunset hanging on the opposite wall. Or maybe it’s a sunrise. That would be less of a metaphor for imminent death, at least.

“I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.” He takes my other hand, but I still can’t look at him. We’re standing a foot apart now, making an inverted drawbridge. “Is there anything I can do?”

Leave, I think. I tried to get him and Leah to stay in the car—I don’t know how far the Harpers’ witch hunt has spread, and I don’t want to find out while Cass is being kept alive by machines—but they wouldn’t.

“I don’t think so,” I say. I catch Leah looking at us in my peripheral vision and snatch my hands back.

“Oh.” He clears his throat, takes a step back. “Well, I was thinking maybe I should call my dad.”

“Don’t do that,” I say. “It’ll just complicate things.”

“We have to tell someone,” he says. “And your mom is, uh, hard to reach, so . . .”

“Parents aren’t just interchangeable,” I snap. “Your dad doesn’t know us. He wouldn’t care. Plus, what could he even do?”

“He would care,” Tim says, sounding hurt. “And he could get us a hotel room, buy us some real food. He could make sure they take care of her here—people listen to him.”

“Of course they do, he’s a white man.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You don’t have to mean something for it to be true.”

“Fine, well, I just think . . . we can’t do this on our own anymore,” he says.

I look him straight in the eyes. “Maybe you can’t.”

“What?”

“I could do it,” I say, anger suddenly filling the emptiness in my chest. “We were doing fine before you.”

“I don’t—” Tim frowns, wounded and confused. “You’re the one who brought us.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” I say. “I didn’t know it would make everything worse.” That’s my fault, I know it is. I should have seen the second Cass ran out of the car at the Family Dollar that taking Leah was a bad idea. We should have left her where she was, on Facebook, smiling and abusing exclamation points in her white picket life. But it’s Tim’s fault I got curious. He was the one who barged in on us, who made me care in the first place. He was the one who knocked me off my feet when I should have been standing guard. “If I hadn’t had to babysit you and her all week,” I seethe, gesturing to Leah, who’s now full-on eavesdropping, “I could have paid attention to my real sister.”

“Wow, okay,” he says, his cornflower eyes turning steely. “Because it seemed like you were pretty happy with the distraction.” He’s talking about the kiss. I can’t believe he’s bringing that up now.

“That didn’t mean anything,” I whisper.

“Got it,” he says, his jaw hardening. “Then I’ll get out of your way.”

“Great,” I say. “I could use some peace.”

“Good luck with that,” he says. “Leah, let’s go take a walk.”

“Why did you make them leave?” Denny asks, scowling, once they disappear around the corner.

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back later. They’ve got nowhere to go.” I sink down into one of the loveseats, the thick imitation leather squeaking under my weight, and close my eyes. I want to tell him the truth, that it’s for our own good and that I’m just preparing him for the inevitable, but I don’t think he’d understand.

He’ll have to learn for himself, like I did: Whether you push them or not, everyone leaves, eventually.