Before I Let You Go(87)
Annie is talking to her daughter quietly. She’s smiling, but her face is wet with tears. I don’t want to intrude, so I hang back, standing in the doorway of the office wing. After a while, Annie notices me and motions for me to join them.
“See what I’m up against with him?” she says as soon as I sit down, and the bubble of joy I’ve floated on as I watched her with her baby deflates in an instant.
“Have you written any poetry since you came here?” I ask Annie, and her stare is incredulous.
“I’ve been kind of busy.”
“I miss your poetry. I miss those stories you used to write.”
She looks back to Daisy.
“Maybe I could write something for her,” she says after a while.
“Did you love writing, Annie?”
“You know I did.”
“Why did you stop?”
“It seemed pointless. No one wants to hear what someone like me has to say.”
“I do.”
Annie swallows.
“I’m writing this journal for Luke. It has . . . it has everything in it. All about me.” She glances at me. “Maybe you could read it someday.”
“Are you going to let Luke read it, too?”
“I don’t know. I’m scared to.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid that . . . loads of things. I’m afraid that he’ll pity me. I’m afraid that he’ll use it to control me. At the moment, all of the things in that journal are mine. They are my secrets, my perspective on the world—I have nothing left but that.”
Daisy burps suddenly—the sound surprisingly loud for such a tiny person. Annie and I laugh together, our gazes locking, our faces fixed in smiles. The moment is perfect, and I’m still smiling when I say, “I need to buy some new boots. When you’re out of here, do you want to come shopping with me? I have no idea what kind to get. We could go get lunch or a coffee after and talk, like we used to.”
Annie looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind, then she starts to laugh again.
“Sure, Lexie. In two months’ time, at the start of spring when I finally get out of this shithole, we’ll go buy you some nice warm boots that you won’t wear until next winter.”
I’m feeling positive after the visit to rehab, and Annie calls every night over the next week. They are brief calls, but they are also calm and uneventful—she calls only to inquire about Daisy’s welfare. I ring Mom to update her, and when she asks me if I think Annie is going to make it this time, I’m not lying when I say yes.
All of this makes it a complete shock when Luke calls a week later to tell me that Annie has walked out. He tells me that right at dawn, she packed up all of her belongings and she walked out the front doors.
He called when I was dressing Daisy, but I answered anyway because I saw it was him. Now I’m standing frozen in my bedroom, with Daisy wearing only a diaper and the bottom half of her romper. Everything within me grinds to a halt, and I’m holding the phone with one hand and Daisy with the other, and I can’t form a single coherent thought.
It’s funny how every single thing in your life can shatter with a single decision; and not a decision I had any control over. Everything is suddenly broken, and there is nothing I can do to fix it.
I unfreeze, and then I’m racing—my thoughts and my heart rate and my emotions. I’m panicking and terrified, and I’m sick from the news—nauseous, literally—waves of rolling anxiety that start at my head and work their way down to my toes and it’s all I can do to hold on to Daisy and the phone and stay upright. I’m violently shaking by the time I steer myself to the bed and sit on the edge.
“The staff tried to stop her,” Luke says now. “She was determined to go.” I’m listening to him, but although the phone is at my ear and the volume is fine, it feels like he’s calling me from very far away. Still, I hear the apology and the regret in his tone. It is no consolation that Daisy’s rehabilitation counselor sounds upset about this, no salve to my wound that he obviously had high hopes for her, too, because I understand what this means. This is the end of Luke’s journey with Annie, and once again, the entirety of her mess is about to fall on me.
This feels a lot like the time I tried to call Annie and realized her phone had been disconnected, and then I called her office and was shocked to find out she lost her job. It feels a lot like having the ground giving way beneath my feet yet again. I should be used to this sinking sensation. I shake myself and bring Daisy down from my shoulder into the crook of my elbow, and I pull a blanket out of her bassinet and cover her with it so she doesn’t get cold. And then, once I’m sure Daisy is completely fine, I press through the shock and find the cognizance to ask, “Did something happen?”
“She went to a group therapy session yesterday for the first time. I thought that was a positive step. I honestly have no idea, Alexis. But as you’ll understand, I’ve had to report her absence to the courts.”
“Do you know what happens now?” I croak.
“I think you’d better ask a lawyer that question. I’m so sorry,” Luke says. The conversation is wrapping up, but I don’t want to get off the phone. Once I hang up, I’ll have to figure out what to do next, and I’m still too shocked to make plans. Still, I can’t think of a way to prolong the call and Luke closes the conversation with platitudes. “I really thought we could help her. I hope that somehow, this is the start of a new chapter for your sister.”