What Happened to the Bennetts(49)

“Mom? Mom?” Lucinda called, raising her voice. “Where are you going?”

Special Agent Lingermann answered, “I think she’s upset. She went to the bathroom. She closed the door.”

“Can you check on her?”

“I think we should end the call. The nurse told me we should wrap it up. She said it’s almost dinnertime.”

“But she doesn’t just get up and go. Mom? Mom!”

I patted Lucinda’s arm. “Honey, maybe she’s tired. It’s so new, with the phone.”

“Oh no.” Special Agent Lingermann cringed. “I think she’s crying.”

Lucinda grimaced. “Can you please go see her? Tell her I want to talk to her?”

“I’ll get the nurse. We should end the call.”

“Mom?” Lucinda said as the screen went dark.





Chapter Twenty-Six



I entered the bedroom, which was dark except for the moonlight glowing through the curtains. Lucinda was under the covers, her back turned away. An empty glass and a bottle of wine sat on the night table. She had gone upstairs after the call with her mother, and I’d gotten Ethan to bed, then come to check on her.

“How you doing?” I sat down on the bed, putting a hand on her arm. I couldn’t see her features in the darkness, just her outline.

“I’m wallowing. I’m having myself a good wallow.”

“You’re entitled.”

“I drank three glasses of wine.”

“Good girl.” I patted her arm. Usually my wife was a lightweight. She didn’t drink because it disrupted her sleep. “Want more? You’re allowed.”

“God, no. I wish we hadn’t called Mom. It just upset her.”

“No, it didn’t,” I rushed to say. “She was happy to see you. She was really happy.”

“She’s not happy, ever. I just didn’t realize it before. She’s miserable all the time.”

“No, she’s not.”

“She’s not even there. And now, neither am I.”

“Yes, she is.” I’d never heard Lucinda talk like this. “She smiles, she laughs.”

“She makes sounds and noises. It’s not really a laugh.”

“It’s a laugh,” I said, but in truth, I wasn’t sure what it was.

Lucinda fell silent, and I knew it was killing her to leave her mother. I remembered a time, not long after Caitlin had passed, when Lucinda, Ethan, and I had been leaving the house to go to Allison’s lacrosse final, but Bay Horse had called, saying Mom was agitated and Lucinda should come right away. Lucinda had wanted to go to the game, and Allison was already there, waiting for us. The finals had been a big deal, against Central Bucks West, and even Ethan had been psyched.

Lucinda’s face had fallen. I should go see Mom.

You sure? It had been her decision to make, but I’d felt for her. Why not go after the game?

That’ll be too late. Lucinda had buckled her lip. You go, Monaco.

Monaco was our code for when one of us was going in our representative capacity, as if we were ambassadors of a small country, the country of us, trying to be in two places at once, tag-teaming our children’s soccer semifinals, select choir recitals, and Annie Get Your Gun. I put the memory out of my mind, as Lucinda shifted on the bed.

“Jason, you know what I realized, talking to Mom?”

“What, honey?”

“That we both lost a child, her and me.”

“Right.” I cringed. I hadn’t thought of it, either.

“I saw her go through it, after Caitlin died. She spent, like, a month in bed. We went through it, all of us. We cried together, like normal people. Allison was at Caitlin’s funeral, remember? She was only eleven.”

I thought back. It had been Allison’s second funeral. Her third would be her own.

“I can’t help but compare, you know? Allison was so much younger than Caitlin when she died. Is it harder for us, or easier?”

I had no answer. It hurt to think about. “You can’t compare.”

“Right, you can’t, and at the end it’s the same. You don’t want to outlive your child, no matter how old your child is. It’s because you can’t handle it.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

“I can’t handle losing Allison, I really can’t. I don’t want to get out of bed, ever. Ever, ever. I use Ethan as an excuse. I want to lay around all day. I give up, I do.”

I felt alarmed. I rubbed her back. I knew the only thing that could bring her out of it. “You have to think about Ethan.”

Lucinda didn’t say anything, but I knew she was listening. Ethan was my best argument. She would never let him down. We both knew she loved the kids more than me. And I loved her more than the kids. I didn’t know if that made me a good husband or a bad father. Or both.

“Lucinda, your mother lost Caitlin, but she was still there for you. She was always there for you, and you’ll be there for him. You’re not going to fall apart because of him.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am.” I needed her to believe it.

“You know, I never really noticed it before, she was holding the doll and I really started to think about that doll, and I think she got upset because she dropped it.”