Off the Deep End (24)

I motioned for him to come closer inside. In a normal world, I would’ve told him to shut the door behind him so that we could speak privately, but I didn’t live in a world with closed doors anymore. Or furniture that wasn’t bolted to the floor. He took a few tentative steps toward me and quickly stopped. His jaw worked constantly. His fists were clenched at his sides like he might be holding himself back from coming at me. I’d never seen someone so angry.

I patted the spot at the end of the bed the same way I used to with Gabe when he’d storm into my room upset. Isaac shook his head, refusing to sit. I should’ve told him to be quiet, that he was wrong. That there was no reason it should’ve been him that died in the accident, and if I was his own mother, that’s probably exactly what I would’ve said. But we both knew I would’ve been lying: I’d made the two of them switch seats in the car at the last minute that night.

I had noticed immediately when I grabbed them after the game that Isaac was already looking a bit pale from the long bus ride. He got carsick so easily. He’d thrown up twice in my car as a toddler. Once we’d only gone six blocks. I hated puke. Gabe had just buckled himself into the front passenger seat when I reached over and undid the latch, motioning behind us. “Let Isaac sit in the front on the way home. I don’t want him to get carsick.”

Gabe was instantly annoyed and had given me the most hostile teenage glare. “Mom, no. I’m sitting here,” he’d said like a spoiled toddler.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Hart. That’s fine,” Isaac had piped up from the back. “I’ll be fine. It’s really not that far. Don’t worry about it.”

But I didn’t believe him and didn’t want to risk him throwing up in my car. The last thing I wanted to do was clean up puke that night. Even though he was a teenager, I didn’t trust him to make it outside the car in time. I had pushed Gabe’s arm and shoved him toward the door. “Come on, switch places with him now so that we can go.”

“Fine,” he had huffed and rolled his eyes at me.

The two of them had quickly exchanged places. Isaac mumbled an embarrassed apology to Gabe, and we took off. Gabe forgot to buckle his seat belt when he got in the back. The impact from the crash into the lake catapulted him through the back seat window. A piece of his scalp was attached to it. The only part of him still in the car. His body was found over fifty feet from the car trapped under the ice. He’d never stood a chance.

Isaac locked eyes with me, reliving that fateful moment along with me. I’d never told anyone that was how we’d started out. That I was responsible for killing my son from the very beginning. Isaac was the only one who knew. Had he kept it a secret too?

“I should’ve told you no.” His voice shook along with his body. “All I had to say was no, and Gabe would still be here, but I didn’t. I was too big of a punk to say that. I didn’t even need to move up front. I would’ve been fine, and I knew that. I also knew it would make Gabe mad, and I didn’t want to make him mad since he’d actually been kinda nice to me at the game. Well, not nice, exactly. More like he tolerated me, you know?”

I did know. As hard as I’d tried to make Amber and myself become friends, I’d done the same with the two of them, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, Gabe had always treated Isaac like he was an annoying younger brother even though they were the same age.

“I wish you’d sit,” I coaxed. He’d moved into the center of the room and was pacing it like a caged animal, running his hands up and down his arms.

He shook his head. His long hair was stringy and matted together. When was the last time he’d showered? His clothes hung on him like he’d lost weight. There were dark circles underneath his eyes, which were bloodshot. Was he on drugs? Was that what he’d done to cope? Did Amber know? Should I tell her?

I felt so bad for him that day as I watched him wrestle with his inner demons, and all I wanted to do was help him. I had no idea what that would lead to. I refuse to beat myself up for how things turned out, though. I did my best. My intentions were good. That’s what counts, and that’s the part Dr. Stephens needs to understand.

“I was in the state security hospital for over a month, as I’m sure you know,” I inform him on the slight chance that he doesn’t. I started in the maximum security section at Falcon Lake Hospital. They kept me on the same ward as the prison inmates from Shakopee. They gave me twenty-four-hour surveillance and sedation. It was days before I had a recognizable thought. That’s what happens after you try to kill yourself the way that I did. Especially since the first thing I said when they peeled me out of the car with the Jaws of Life was, “I just want to die. Please, God, let me die.” Statements and actions like those bring your risk to an entirely different level, so it takes a long time to get to a place where you can have visitors. “Isaac didn’t just visit me that one time at Falcon Lake Hospital. He came to see me at the state security hospital too. He visited me the entire time I was there.”

“That’s what I’ve never been able to understand.” His face lines with confusion. “Sneaking into your hospital room was one thing, but getting onto the locked psychiatric ward, especially as a minor, was another. How did he get on your visitor list? Did he sign himself in every time? Did anybody question him? Ask for identification?”