In an Instant(75)
Chloe’s eyes well up, and so do mine. My dad didn’t set out to save Vance, but he saved him just the same.
It’s a good night, one that ends with Chloe and Finn the Mighty sleeping peacefully in the room beside my parents’ bedroom and my dad lying in the same bed as my mom, his fingers touching hers.
86
Laguna Beach is a small town, a place that still has a Main Street with cute little shops and an annual parade. It’s a community where families live for generations. My dad’s family has been in Laguna Beach since the early 1900s, and my mom’s parents moved here before she was born. Everyone knows everyone, and like in all small towns, news spreads quickly. Two local newspapers, an online news stream, and a glossy magazine do a thorough job of covering all the local happenings.
The online news stream reported the story first, blasting it over the internet on Tuesday afternoon, an hour after Bob posted bail. The headline read: Local Dentist Arrested for Negligent Homicide of 13-Year-Old Boy.
On Thursday, both newspapers featured the story on their front pages, and that afternoon, the phone rang at our house, and my dad was asked to do an interview for the glossy magazine. He declined.
It’s Thursday evening, and I decide to pop in on Bob and Karen to see how they are handling their new celebrity.
They are not handling it well.
Bob sits on the couch in a drunken stupor, a glass of scotch in his hand and his eyes fixed on the newspapers strewn on the coffee table in front of him. Judging by the liquor remaining in the bottle beside him and the glassiness of his eyes, he’s been there awhile.
Karen and Natalie are in the kitchen. Karen looks at least ten years older than she did a week ago, twenty years older than she did before the accident. Her clothes are rumpled, her hair unbrushed, her eyes swollen and red. Natalie looks like she always does, dazed as she sits at the counter eating low-fat rocky road ice cream.
Shockingly, there are dirty dishes in the sink, and the counters are spotted with spills and stains. Karen sits beside Natalie, staring out the french doors that lead to the backyard. The phone rings, startling her, and I watch as she squeezes her eyes shut and covers her ears to block out its noxious blare.
Natalie lifts her face to look at it, then looks at her mother, a shadow of guilt crossing her face before the look of vacancy returns. System overload, I think as I watch her; she’s unable to cope with everything that is happening.
The answering machine picks up on the fourth ring, and a perky voice introduces itself as a reporter from the Orange County Register. Karen listens intently, her body rigid as she waits for it to end, and when the woman hangs up, she stands and walks stiffly into the living room.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks Bob.
Bob looks up, his face riddled with such confusion and despair it causes my breath to hitch with pity. “How?” he says as his eyes slide from Karen back to the life-destroying vilification in front of him.
Both papers report that the trial is scheduled for late September, though it doesn’t look like it will come to that. The district attorney has already offered a reduced sentence for a guilty plea: six months’ probation and no prison time. Bob’s lawyer is urging Bob to take the offer. Despite it meaning a felony conviction and the virtual destruction of Bob’s dental practice, he thinks it is his best option. The lawyer does not believe Bob will prevail against Mo and my family in court, and if he loses, he could face up to ten years in prison.
Karen looks at the carpet at her feet. “They’re wrong,” she says. “You didn’t do what they’re saying.” But her voice wavers, confirming what a terrible witness she would make.
Bob turns to her, and his voice edged with hate, he says, “I did it for you.”
Through the archway, Natalie jolts with his words. Oz is dead. She wore his gloves. Then she told Mo what her dad did. She begins to rock on her stool, and her eyes take on a faraway stare, conscience a terrible thing to discover when you’re sixteen and have lived all those years never having recognized it.
Karen glances back, sees her rocking, and turns back to Bob, her face distraught with stress and worry. “I think it might be best,” she says, “if Natalie and I go to San Diego for a while . . . you know, to stay with my parents . . . just for a bit, maybe until after the trial . . . they’re wrong . . . I know they’re wrong . . . but until this whole thing blows over . . .”
“Get out!” Bob roars, sending her racing from the room, the scotch bottle smashing against the wall behind her.
87
Chloe is at the shelter. She practically lives there these days—leaving home at dawn and not returning until the sun goes down. A purpose, the animals, and Eric, the boy who gave her the job, have turned out to be an irresistible combination.
At the moment, Eric is giving a surly German shepherd a bath. The shepherd, who Eric named Hannibal on account of his psycho personality, was brought in a week ago by animal control. He was found half-starved and collarless in a gully beside Laguna Canyon Road. The chances of him being claimed or adopted are slim, but the shelter gives each animal a month before they put it down. In order to be tended to, the dog needs to be sedated and muzzled, and even with those precautions, Chloe gives the animal a wide berth.
As Chloe walks by, Eric’s head comes up. Hannibal, sensing something even in his drugged sleep, grumbles. Eric ignores the rumbling and waves his gloved hand at her. It’s completely uncool, making it incredibly cool. I love this guy. Today he wears a T-shirt that says I HAVE THE BODY OF A GOD beneath a drawing of Buddha, which is hilarious, considering he looks like Gumby.