Until the Day I Die(19)

“You can tell us the truth, Erin,” she says.

“The truth is the most important thing,” Arch says.

“You don’t have to pretend to be strong,” Ben says.

“You have to be strong,” Gigi interjects. “You’re a mother. You’re all Shorie has, and you . . . you act like an unstable—”

“Stop,” I blurt out. “All of you. Can you all just shut up for a second and tell her about Hidden Sands? That’s why we’re here. Not to make her feel like shit!”

Gigi collects herself and swipes at the berry-colored lipstick gathered in the corners of her lips. Ben pushes the brochure toward Mom.

“It’s in the Caribbean,” he says. “A small island called Ile Saint Sigo, just off the coast of Saint Lucia, privately owned by Erdman International. They own boutique hotels all across the world. Hidden Sands is one of the most exclusive, private spa retreats there is. They’ll look after you.”

“Innovative. Individualistic. Intuitive,” Mom reads. “What’s L’élu?”

“It’s this trek they take everybody on,” Ben says. “Kind of a short-term vision quest challenge the guests have to complete. After you’ve been there for three weeks or so—resting, relaxing, whatever—the final step is the L’élu. You get a certificate that proves you’ve satisfied Hidden Sands’ requirements, and then you’re released.”

“Released.” Mom nods. “So that’s how it is?”

He and Mom gaze at each other over the brochure, and we all wait. It’s like we’re being locked out while a series of secret communications passes between them. I wonder if it bothers Sabine as much as it bothers me.

Mom flips open the brochure and peruses the shots of the wide white beach, turquoise water, and lush, leafy jungle. The modern spa, its serene lobby featuring an indoor stream running through the center of it. The luxurious monochromatic bedrooms with glass-and-steel walls, and teak-paneled yoga studios. Rich-person rehab, where movie stars and pop singers go to dry out.

“You really don’t have a choice, my dear,” Arch says. “Whatever it is that you took—”

Mom looks around the table. “I would think one of you—somebody—would care about that instead of plotting against me, behind my back. For months. I mean, for God’s sake, maybe I need to go to the doctor. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m sick. Maybe someone did this to me—”

“Enough with that roofie nonsense!”

We all swivel to face Gigi. Her face is slack and pale, and I’ve never seen such hatred shooting out of someone’s eyes. “You almost ruin your daughter’s chance at a college education, and all you can do is think of ways you’re not to blame. It’s not only about last night, Erin. It’s about the way you’ve been ever since he died. You work all the time. You don’t come to dinner when I invite you. You wouldn’t even answer your phone. You’ve shut us all out for months—”

“I am doing the best I can!” Mom shouts back at her.

The air seems to crackle. Everyone’s still, and Mom’s eyes are huge and full of hurt. I’m trembling.

I stand up, almost toppling my chair. Everybody stares at me. “That’s enough, Gigi. Not another word. From any of you.”

The room is quiet, all except for the gurgling of the dishwasher.

“Not another word.” I jut out my chin. “She just needs some rest. To get away from Jax, from all the pressure, from everything for a little while so she can reset. That’s it. That’s all.”

No one answers me. I guess they can tell I’ve had enough. Mom is still staring at me.

“I’ll go to this place . . . to Hidden Sands, if Shorie promises to stay in school,” she says quietly.

“I promise,” I say.

“Who’s going to take Foxy Cat?” Mom says. She sounds resigned.

Layton pipes up. “She’ll be fine at my house if you’re okay with that. I’ve been thinking about getting a cat, so this’ll be good practice.”

Sabine slides a printed-out boarding pass toward Mom. “All the arrangements have been made. Go upstairs. Shower and change, then get some rest. Your flight leaves at seven tomorrow morning.”

“Impressive work, you guys. If only I could get this kind of performance when I need something done at Jax,” Mom says coolly. She brushes her fingertips over the ticket. Her lips are pursed in that super annoying way she has when she’s mad. In a heartbeat, she’s turned into my mother again. Gigi’s pushed back from the table. Arch is shaking Ben’s hand. Sabine and Layton are up too.

“We’ll look after Shorie,” Arch says to Mom in his gruff grandpa voice, and gives her a hug. “Don’t you worry. She’ll be just fine, you can count on that.”

Layton touches my back. “Shorie, Ben said he’d drive you back to Auburn.”

Mom is drifting toward the living room, Ben tracking her every move. Layton glances at Ben and snaps shut her briefcase. A little too forcefully, in my opinion.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Layton says to me. She crosses the room to Ben, touches his arm, and leans to whisper something in his ear.

The dishwasher hums in the background. Gigi and I loaded it together while we waited for Mom. She told me about the time she took Dad to a birthday party and the kid’s parents had hired a clown. She said the party was a disaster; most of the children were frightened and cowering behind their mothers’ skirts. Apparently Dad marched right up to the clown and kicked him, right in the shin, bringing him to his knees. The clown had cussed out the birthday boy’s parents, then screeched off in his crappy car, never to be heard from again.