Before I Let You Go(60)
Something warm opens in my chest, like the first rays of the sunrise are hitting my face or like the moment you’re rousing from sleep and realize that you’re in bed with someone that you really, truly love. I suddenly feel lighter—like maybe it’s all going to be okay after all. Annie has never expressed herself so well to me before. In spite of all of her skill with words, she’s never managed to thank me like this. I feel the smile on my face—really feel it—because I’m feeling hopeful, and it feels amazing.
“You have made a perfect little girl, Annie. You’re right—she does need you—and I can’t be Daisy’s mother, but I’m going to be the best temporary substitute I can. I promise you. If she has a rough night, I’ll sleep over at the hospital. If she has a good day, I’ll take her outside for fresh air. If she needs new clothes, I’ll find them, and if she needs formula, I’ll give it to her. Until you are back, she’ll want for nothing. I promise you. Okay?”
“I know, Lex,” Annie whispers. “I don’t even know why I had to say it.” We travel in silence again for a while, until she clears her throat. “There’s one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“It’s just . . . it’s just that if Mom comes, and if . . . if she tries to bring . . . I mean, if for some reason Robert comes . . . I—” Annie is struggling so hard that I begin to worry, and as we reach the highway toward the rehab center, Sam meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. I shrug at him, because I have no idea where Annie is going with this or why it’s so hard for her to say. When I look back at her, she’s pale again; even her lips are pale, and she’s picking at her fingernails with visible anxiety.
“What is it, Annie?”
“If he comes, don’t let him near my baby.”
The plea is impassioned and desperate. I feel an odd, uncomfortable shiver run down my spine—and I’m confused.
“I don’t think he’d come here—but even if he did, I could try to keep him away, but it would be a bit strange—” I break off, and I try to picture what that would look like. In the unlikely event that Mom did come, and if Robert somehow came with her, how could I possibly explain why I didn’t want him near the baby? “Why, Annie?”
Annie is fidgeting frantically now, and her uncertainty is completely bewildering. Robert is a horrible man, but he’s not a bad man—much like Mom, he’s just stuck within the narrow mind-set of his ideology.
“Lex, I can’t tell you why, but please promise me—if for some reason he comes here, you have to promise me he won’t ever be alone with her—no.” She shudders, and then from the corner of my eye I see that she waves her fist in frustration. “Promise me that you’d never let him in the room with her. You have to protect her.”
I stare at Annie—wishing fervently that I could read her mind. I need to understand where this is coming from. And then it hits me.
“Annie . . . did . . .” I draw in a sharp breath, and then force the words out, “Did something happen with Robert? After I left?”
This thought is so startling that it’s like a punch to my gut. Is she hinting at something? Is it more drama—everything about Annie is always wrapped up in layers of drama—is this just some new game I can’t see through yet? Is she trying to hurt Mom?
Annie exhales in a rush and says hastily, “You don’t need to worry, Lexie, he won’t come anyway. I just don’t trust him, and I never have. Please, it will help me relax so much if I know that you’ll protect her from him. I’m probably being silly, but I don’t want to get distracted by worrying about this.”
“Okay,” I breathe, and I’m so relieved. I know Robert hurt her—he hurt her by dragging her to that place, he hurt her by constantly targeting her, trying to break her spirit, by inflicting the soul-crushing physical abuse when she broke the rules—and that was all horrible, but for a moment I wondered if she was suggesting something even worse. I’m weak with relief that this is not the case. I flash a smile toward Annie and I squeeze her hand. “I promise, Annie. I’ll take care of her like she’s my own daughter.”
“Or like she’s your sister,” Annie whispers, and I smile at her sadly.
“Exactly. I’ll care for her like she’s my sister.”
24
ANNIE
Luke,
Sometimes, I wonder if everything would have been fine if I’d just gone to Chicago State and kept to myself. That was my plan at first—studying was going to be my priority. Who needs friends anyway? My roommate was a cheerleader and she was completely obsessed with sports, so she seemed to fall immediately into a vast social network and was hardly ever in our room. There were dorm parties, but I found the crowds and the noise to be overwhelming. I found a job waitressing at a diner near the campus, and so I started taking night shifts on the weekends just to avoid the partying.
That’s how I met Todd. He was a customer at the diner, and for months he visited regularly, but it never occurred to me that he might be coming in to see me. Since my disastrous attempt at high school, I hadn’t really spent much time around boys my own age. So when Todd asked me out on a date, I was actually annoyed with him.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate to ask a woman out when she’s trying to work,” I snapped at him, and he shrugged and went back to his pancakes. But he was there again the next night, and the next, and then every night for several weeks. He’d come in very late when it was quiet, and we started to talk a little bit, and then we talked a lot.