I'm Fine and Neither Are You(51)

“No one is the person everyone else thinks they are,” I said.

Lorrie glared at me, pulling Olive by the hand.

When they were gone, I sighed and sat back down. Saying my piece may have offered instant gratification, but the aftermath was exhausting.

Sanjay, who had not moved since Lorrie appeared, was staring at me with a mix of disbelief and wonder.

“What?” I said. I tipped back the last of my wine, which was now warm. “You told me to be more honest.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s what I had in mind.”





TWENTY

If writing a speech for Jenny’s memorial service had been painful, penning the final post for her website was excruciating. I toiled for hours, ultimately settling on a short note explaining that she had passed away suddenly from an unknown health problem. I asked readers to honor Jenny’s memory by sending good thoughts to her family, while also giving them privacy during this terrible time. I ended the post by quoting from something she had written less than a month before her death:

This is not a test. Life is messy and sometimes tragic and often just plain hard for a woman to weather. But when you step back for a moment, the whole of it is incredibly beautiful—and that is what we must choose to focus on.

xo, Jenny

I was giving the post a last look one morning when Matt texted to see how soon I could come over. I had started to panic, thinking something had happened to Cecily, when he sent a second text explaining that Jenny’s autopsy report had come in.

I had been in the office an hour and still had approximately three hundred and twelve things to do before lunch, but not a single one of them was a fraction as important. I told Matt I’d be there in fifteen minutes.

“Meeting,” I said to Sheryl, the receptionist, as I hurried past her desk. It was the first week of August and already the month felt like Augusts often do—both idle and rushed as everyone cashed in on unused vacation time and tried to enjoy what was left of a season that they had mostly spent indoors.

She raised an eyebrow. “Enjoy.”

This was the problem with having a shared office calendar: everyone had access to everyone else’s schedule. Sheryl knew full well that I didn’t have a single meeting planned until two. I almost came up with an excuse, but then I thought about Sanjay’s second request. If my eruption at Lorrie was any indication, I needed more practice. Well, no time like the present.

“I won’t,” I said, not turning to take in Sheryl’s response. “And I’ll be back when I’m back.”



When Matt answered the door, I nearly did a double take. He was wearing a faded Cubs T-shirt and athletic shorts, and his chin was covered with days-old stubble. I’d seen him the previous week after dropping Cecily off, and he’d looked like his usual clean-cut self then. Had the autopsy sent him over the edge?

“Penny,” he said. “Come in.”

I glanced around. There were papers and toys everywhere, and an overflowing basket of laundry in the middle of the hallway. This did not assuage my fears about Matt’s mental state.

“You took the morning off?” I asked as I followed him into the living room.

He ran a hand through his hair, which was as long as I had ever seen it. “I’m working from home today.”

“Great that you have the option,” I said.

Other than the din of air-conditioning, the house was still. Jenny’s voice pierced the silence. Too bad you’re not using it to spend time with your daughter.

I no longer startled when I heard her speaking to me; if anything, it had become a comfort. The Jenny in my head was sharper and more sarcastic than she had been when she was alive, and I was glad for that, too—it felt almost as though I was finally getting a glimpse of the person she had been hiding from me all those years.

Well, she wasn’t wrong about Matt’s priorities, I thought as I sat across from him on one of the gray velvet sofas. When I’d asked Cecily how she was doing last week, she’d flat-out told me she was lonely.

Matt leaned forward and handed me a sheet of paper that had been facedown on the coffee table. “I know you wanted answers, so here they are. You’re welcome to tell Sanjay what’s in this document, but otherwise please keep it to yourself.”

“I understand.” I glanced at the paper, then looked back at Matt for confirmation I should proceed. He nodded and I began to read.

Below Jenny’s name and personal information, a box had been checked. Manner of death: accident.

Beneath that was her cause of death: opioid toxicity.

My eyes, already moist with tears, traveled down the page to the toxicology findings. I inhaled sharply as the words began to register. Jenny had had oxycodone, acetaminophen, hydrocodone, and kratom in her blood and urine at the time of her death.

“What is kratom?” I asked.

“It’s an herb. It can make you feel euphoric and energized. It’s not illegal,” he added in a way that told me this was important to him.

But everything Jenny had been taking was legal. And all of it had proved to be lethal.

“Lots of people take kratom . . .” He looked away. “When they’re trying to get off narcotics.”

Then she had been well aware she had a problem. She might have even seen death lurking in the shadows.