The Comeback(95)

“Can I say something now, Grace? I don’t want you to think that I’m being patronizing, but I know how important you are to Laurel, and I think I’d feel bad if I didn’t say it.”

“Go ahead,” I say. She drops the joint into an ashtray, and it sizzles under the water she pours onto it.

“I don’t exactly know what’s happened to you, but I know that sometimes you can’t change other people, you can only change how you respond to them, and that has to be enough. Does that mean anything to you?”

“That’s what I figured,” I say as I stand up. “But it turns out they control that too.”





CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR





Laurel walks into my bedroom the next morning, her iPhone pinned between her ear and her shoulder. “No, I know, of course. Olivia, naturally, I think that’s totally normal given the situation.” She mouths sorry at me, and I understand that she’s on the phone with my mother. I shake my head violently and wave my hand at her, but she perches on the end of my bed.

“Tell me about it, I had to learn that the hard way too,” she says, holding her hands up at me as I scowl at her. She mouths what? at me before speaking again.

“No, I’m with her. Like I said, she promised me she would call you the minute she felt better. She didn’t want to have to lie and pretend that she was okay when she wasn’t, you know. Although, she’s actually looking marginally less deathly than she was, so it’s perfect timing. Okay, I’m handing you over to her now. I know, okay, bye.” She passes the phone to me as if it’s burning hot and shakes her head, mouthing Jesus to me as she leaves the room. I scowl at the back of the door and take a deep breath.

“Mom.”

“Oh, so you do remember me,” my mom says, her voice high and charged with something. She must have been gearing up for this phone call for a while. “You’re going to have to jog my memory, though . . . your name is familiar . . .”

“Grace Hyde. You gave birth to me. I ate my twin sister in the womb and my head was in the ninety-eighth percentile for size in the country?” I say, because this part has always come easily to us both.

“We don’t know that it was a sister,” my mom replies instantly. “It could have been a boy twin. Your father would have been so pleased.”

“I’m fine, Mom, thanks for asking.”

“I know you’re fine, but do you know how I know that? E! News. And Kim Kardashian tweeted to say how relieved she was to hear it. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a week.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t allowed visitors, and then I just . . . switched my phone off. Wait, are you on Twitter now?” I ask, already exhausted.

“Can I just ask you one thing?”

“Go ahead,” I say, waiting for the coins to clatter into the gutter like they always do.

“What have I done to deserve this treatment?” my mom asks, and her voice has a rawness to it that it didn’t before. I squeeze my eyes shut, my forehead throbbing with the extra exertion of sparring with my mother.

“Mom, come on. I was going to call.”

“No, please. Tell me exactly what I did wrong.” My mom’s voice is getting louder again, and I feel safer, because at least her indignation is familiar ground. “First I lose you, and now Esme doesn’t want anything to do with me. How either of you can be happy in that city, breathing all that smog, talking about what a dreadful mother I am, how I always ruin everything . . .”

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “What about Esme?”

“What?”

“Where is Esme?” I ask slowly, fear rendering me stupid.

“I wouldn’t know, Grace, because she’s with you,” my mom says after a pause.

“When did you last see her?”

“New Year’s Day . . . She spent the night with a friend from school, and when she came home she told us that you’d asked her to stay with you for a couple of days, before school started up again. She just texted me yesterday, saying she was with you at Laurel’s.”

I don’t respond. New Year’s Day was three days ago. My mom starts to speak again, and her words tumble out, overlapping, grappling with each other for space.

“She’d been in such a good mood since she started visiting you, but she was a complete nightmare again over Christmas. We didn’t know what to do with her. It was like having you back, at your very worst. She didn’t want to be here, and we thought it couldn’t hurt for her to stay with you, especially as we knew you were out of action. How can I stop her anyway? You try telling a sixteen-year-old anything. You should know better than anyone how imposs—” She breaks off.

I rest my head in my hands and try to understand what my mom is telling me. Three days. Esme’s been by herself for three days.

“Maybe she went to stay with a friend instead,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. There is silence on the other end of the line.

“Grace?” my mom asks eventually, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where’s your sister?”





CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE





I put Laurel’s car keys in the ignition and take a deep breath. I didn’t consider when I asked to borrow it that I hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car since Christmas Eve. I stretch my knee out carefully and then turn the engine on with a roar, pulling the hand brake off quickly, before I can change my mind. I ignore my heart rattling in my chest and the deep, glowing pain in my knee, and I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead, taking one stop sign at a time, just like my mother taught me.