My Life After Now (14 page)

Some other people chimed in then, saying that they’d also lost friendships because of their positive status.

And this was somehow supposed to make me feel
better
?

The security guard lady was talking now. “I think it was crazy brave of you to go confront that musician douchebag.” She leaned across a few people to give me a high five. I returned it halfheartedly.

People kept talking and talking, not having any idea that this was all completely useless. Everything they said was wrong. It wasn’t
bravery
that had brought me to Lee’s; it was temporary insanity. And Ahmed’s nameless, faceless, alcoholic friends were nothing compared with what Max and Courtney and I had had—and lost.

Roxie was wrong. This wasn’t helping me at all. It only proved that even after I poured my heart out and told them the most private details of my life, these people still knew nothing about me.

And honestly, hearing it repeated over and over again that broken and abandoned relationships were not rare in the HIV/AIDS community just made me even more depressed.

There were only a few minutes to go before the end of the meeting, and I was itching to get the hell out of there. I was never going to forgive Roxie for this. I couldn’t believe I trusted her, that I actually thought she was my friend. She may have done a nice thing by getting me that audition, but this little stunt just overshadowed any kindness she’d shown me in the past.

The comment session was winding down when June raised her hand. I cursed under my breath. She was the only one who hadn’t yet seized on the opportunity to pick apart my life, and I’d been hoping it would stay that way.

“Go ahead, June,” Roxie said.

No, June, don’t go ahead. Keep your mouth shut, so we can all go home.

“I wanted to say something about Lucy’s mother,” she said.

Wonderful. I was in for yet another tirade on how absolutely awful neglectful parenting and matriarchal abandonment was. I got it, ditching your kid to go take pictures and do drugs was bad.

“I was thinking about what Roxie said about how you blame yourself, Lucy, and how you feel like getting HIV was a kind of penance for your actions. Well, I think you shouldn’t blame yourself at all.”

Thanks, June. That’s really helpful.

“It seems to me that, when all those things were happening to make you upset, you did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

Huh. That was interesting. My ears perked up.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Look at your mother. She had you and then ran away. She came to visit you as a child and when things got too serious, she ran away again. And where did she go each time? To travel the world with musicians. You said she told you that she’s had a few abortions, right? And now she’s pregnant again and without a partner? So presumably she’s been out there engaging in irresponsible sex.”

“That’s true,” I said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Don’t you see? Running away from difficult situations and landing in the bed of a stranger—a musician in particular—was learned behavior. That’s what you were
taught
. You can’t blame yourself for what you did, Lucy. But you can blame your mother.”

Whoa.

• • •

The meeting finally ended, and Roxie threw her arms around me. “That was
so
great, Lucy. How do you feel?”

I pulled away and wedged several inches of space between us. “I don’t know—I need time to process. But that wasn’t cool, Roxie.”

She frowned. “What wasn’t cool?”

“Putting me on the spot like that.”

“But it helped. I know it did!” she insisted.

“Listen to what I’m saying to you! I told you all that stuff in confidence and then you just went and threw it all right back in my face, in front of everyone. You
ambushed
me.”

“I was just trying to help…”

I sighed. “I’m sure you were. But it made me really uncomfortable and right now I just need to be alone. I’ll see you Thursday.”

I left her standing there in the church basement, frozen in place, and, for once, speechless.

I didn’t cross paths with Lisa until the following evening. She was rummaging through the fridge, her ever-expanding butt floating out behind her, when I got home from rehearsal.

She didn’t appear to have heard me come in, and my first instinct was to creep by her and sneak up to my room unnoticed. But something stopped me, and instead I planted myself in a kitchen chair and observed her, the gestating exotic creature scavenging for sustenance.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what June had said. Could she have been right? Could I have been subconsciously brainwashed to copy Lisa’s behavior? I’d always prided myself on being independent. I had two amazing parents and everything I ever could have needed; this wasn’t a case of feeling unloved or having had some sort of neglected childhood. I hadn’t had anything close to what Roxie had had to grow up with.

But what if Lisa’s very existence had corrupted me, worked its way inside me when I was just a little kid, and pushed me in Lee’s direction? That would mean this living hell I’d fallen into
wasn’t
entirely my fault. Some of it—even just a small piece—was Lisa’s. Maybe, if I’d never known her, I wouldn’t have even
thought
to go home with Lee. Maybe, if she had simply handed me over to Dad after I was born and then stayed away, I wouldn’t be in this situation now.

She finally finished fishing around in the fridge and kicked the door closed. But when she turned and saw me sitting there, silently glowering at her, she yelped and lost her grip on her armful of sandwich fixings.

“Christ, Lucy, you scared me,” she said, squatting down to collect the food. I didn’t get up to help her.

“Sorry,” I said, making it absolutely clear that I was not even a little bit sorry.

She gave me a weird look but continued her sandwich-making mission. Clearly, it was going to take a lot more than a sarcastic attitude to come between a pregnant freeloader and her pile of free food.

“Why did you come back?” I demanded.

Lisa paused for an instant so quick it was almost nonexistent and then resumed slathering two pieces of bread with mayonnaise. “I already told you,” she said.

“No, not this time. I mean, why did you come back those times when I was little?”

That got her to finally put the food down. “Because I wanted to see you.”

The carefully arranged mask of innocence on her face caused something to snap inside me.

“Don’t lie to me!” I screamed, and pounded my fists on the table. Lisa sucked in her breath and her eyes grew huge.

“I’m not,” she said unconvincingly.

“You think I don’t remember? The first time you came back you were so strung out you couldn’t even look at me. That’s not a mother who wants to see her daughter. You were here because you needed money, and you knew Dad would give it to you.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “But what about the second time? I didn’t ask for money then,” she said indignantly. At least she didn’t bother denying my accusation. We both knew it was the truth.

“The second time was even worse! At least when you were all drugged up, I knew you weren’t worth my time. But the second time, you actually pretended to
care
about me!” Angry tears were starting to come now, but I didn’t wipe them away. “I didn’t need you, Lisa. I was doing perfectly fine without you. So why did you come back?”

She lowered her gaze. “Because I wanted to see how you were doing. It’s the truth, Lucy. I missed you.”

“You missed me,” I repeated, not believing her for a second. “So you decided the best thing for the thirteen-year-old daughter that you
missed
so much would be to come put on a big motherly show, make me love you, and then take it all away without so much as a good-bye? Oh yeah, that’s someone who cares about her kid.”

“What do you want me to say?” Lisa shouted back. “I’m messed up. That’s my only excuse.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s not an excuse at all! You’re
messed
up
because you chose to be. No one forced those drugs into your veins or up your nose or whatever it is that you do. No one made you leave your family. You did all that. The only person you care about is yourself.”

Her hand flew to her stomach. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I said, letting out a humorless laugh. “The baby that you actually
do
want. Because, somehow, that kid is going to make you into a decent person. You know, I feel really bad for that baby. It’s not even born yet, and it’s already expected to do the impossible.” I shook my head. “Do you have any idea how much you’ve managed to screw me up, Lisa? I actually
have
a family, people who love me unconditionally, and you’ve been in my life all of a collective five minutes. Yet somehow your toxicity managed to cut through it all and damage me in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. So yeah, good luck, little unborn baby. With a mother like this, who needs enemies?”

I stormed out of the kitchen.

• • •

I slammed my door, threw my earphones on, and blasted my iPod. I hated her. I didn’t care about the baby anymore—I just wanted that woman out of my house and out of my
life
once and for all.

I lay on my bed, still fuming, and stared vacantly at the ceiling for a long time.

But one
Wicked
, one
Legally
Blonde: The Musical
, and half a
Ragtime
cast album later, I heard a noise downstairs. I quickly turned the volume down on “Wheels of a Dream” and listened. My dads were home, and there was a lot of indecipherable yelling layered on top of the sounds of feet pounding as they moved around frantically. I could also hear Lisa, but she wasn’t yelling so much as moaning. In pain? Despair? I strained to hear but couldn’t make out any words. What the hell was going on down there?

Unable to just listen any longer, I ran downstairs and gasped at the sight before me.

Lisa was balled up on the floor of the guest room, clutching her stomach and screaming in agony. There was blood covering her lower half and slowly spreading onto the carpet beneath her. Papa was on the phone, pacing the room and trying to explain what was happening to, I assumed, a 911 operator, his face panic-stricken. Dad was kneeling beside Lisa, futilely trying to get her to stop wailing long enough to tell him what had happened.

I was frozen in place.

Did I do this?

Did my attack on Lisa send her pregnancy into distress?

My offhand thoughts about not caring about the baby came rushing back to me.

“I didn’t mean it!” I cried. “I’m sorry!”

Suddenly, I was out of my body. The scene became muted and I felt like I was watching everything through a scrim. My feet stayed on the floor, but my spirit lifted up and floated over the room.

Dad hung up the phone and said something to me. But he said it to my body. My detached spirit didn’t hear. He rattled my shoulders, trying to get a reaction. Unsatisfied, he ran out of the room in the direction of the front door. The ambulance must have been here.

A moment later, two men in EMT uniforms rushed in and pushed past my hollow body. One tended to Lisa, taking her pulse and listening to her stomach with a stethoscope. The other turned his attention to Dad and Papa, trying to get answers. Dad and Papa responded, gesturing wildly. But to spirit-me, everything lingered in perfect silence. The men lifted Lisa onto a stretcher and took her away. Dad and Papa followed close behind, their clothes stained with Lisa’s blood.

I remained suspended above the now-still room.

But then my gaze landed on something, and I was violently sucked back into my body. I pried my feet off the ground and ran over to Lisa’s bedside table, which Dad and Papa must not have noticed in the commotion.

Laid out on the table was an open, near-empty bag of cocaine.

“Miss Williams has suffered what is called a placental abruption,” the doctor explained.

I’d shoved the cocaine baggie into a Ziploc and followed my dads to the hospital. When I found them in the emergency room waiting room, I showed them what I’d found, and Papa informed the medical staff. The three of us sat, shell-shocked, in the waiting room for several hours, not being told anything about Lisa’s status.

But now, finally, we were getting some information.

“What is that?” Dad asked.

“It’s when the placenta, which is the organ that provides nourishment to the fetus, detaches from the uterine wall. It’s rare to see in healthy pregnancies; however, the use of cocaine during pregnancy does greatly increase the chances of it happening.”

Dad rubbed his temples. “Is the baby okay? Is Lisa okay?”

The doctor nodded. “There was only a partial uterine separation, so we were not forced to do an emergency C-section. Because Miss Williams is just now entering her third trimester, the chance of birth defects would have been very high should we have had to deliver. But we were able to stabilize both mother and fetus through blood transfusions and the administering of IV fluids.” He paused to give us each a meaningful look. “They were very lucky.”

Dad shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you so much. We appreciate everything you’ve done to help them both.”

“A word of advice—keep an eye on her. It is absolutely crucial that she not engage in any more illicit drug use during this pregnancy. Consider today a wakeup call,” he said sternly.

“We will,” Dad said, nodding profusely. “When can we take her home?”

“I want to keep her here for a few days to monitor her for shock and the fetus for any signs of distress. If all goes well, I would say she can probably go home this weekend.”

They were still running some tests on Lisa, so we had to wait awhile longer before we could see her. We returned to our seats in the waiting room. It was already after midnight, but I don’t think any of us were very tired.

We sat there in silence for a long while, half watching a
Seinfeld
rerun on the waiting room’s fuzzy TV.

My phone buzzed.

Any more news on the commercial? When do you shoot?

I turned the phone off. I couldn’t think about Ty or the commercial right now; there was something I needed to confess. “It was my fault,” I said into the quiet.

“What was your fault, honey?” Papa asked.

“Lisa taking the drugs. I confronted her today. I pretty much screamed in her face, blaming her for everything and telling her what a terrible mother she is going to be to the new baby.” I took a deep breath. “That’s why she did the drugs. It was because of what I said.”

Papa opened his mouth to respond but I kept talking.

“And I should have named the baby.” I was suddenly feeling guilty about that too.

“What do you mean?” Papa said.

“Lisa asked me to name the baby. Maybe if I’d done that, she would have felt like I cared more and wouldn’t have gone and done this.”

Dad and Papa looked at each other.

“Lucy,” Dad said, “Lisa took the drugs because she has a problem. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled. I knew the truth.

A short time later, a nurse told us we could go in and see her. She was propped up in the hospital bed, a white blanket covering her large belly, hooked up to all kinds of monitors and IVs.

I don’t think my dads knew what to say any better than I did. The air was thick. I stayed close to the door, not saying much of anything. I’d said enough today.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asked.

“Better. The pain is gone,” she said.

“That’s good.”

Then Papa spoke up. “Lisa, you have to be honest with us. I thought the whole point of you staying with us during the pregnancy was because you wanted to stay healthy. What the hell happened?”

“I do want to stay healthy,” Lisa insisted. “But it’s hard.”

“That’s not an explanation,” Papa said.

Lisa shrugged.

“Where did you get the cocaine?” Papa asked.

“From Serge.”

“Serge? Who the hell is Serge?”

“He’s a guy I met a couple months ago.”

“You’re not telling me you’ve been doing drugs for a couple of months…?”

“Like you care!” Lisa said.

“Lisa,” Dad stepped in, clearly trying to set an example with his calm voice, “of course we care.”

“Could have fooled me. No one has even looked at me twice in the last two months. The two of you are so bloody consumed with Lucy all the time. ‘Why is Lucy so down in the dumps?’” she said in a terrible American accent, mocking my dads. “‘Oh gee, I hope Lucy’s okay.’ ‘Let’s have our little secret family meetings with Lucy and not invite Lisa to any of them.’ ‘We’re going to the city with Lucy, Lisa. You can fend for yourself for dinner.’”

We stared at her in shock.

“I swear, I don’t even know why you had me come to live with you in the first place. At least Serge understands me.” She crossed her arms firmly over her expanded middle, sulking.

Papa was at her bedside in two broad strides. He put his face close to hers and spoke fiercely. “You want our attention? You got it. For the next three months you will be watched like a hawk. You will not go anywhere near so much as an aspirin until that baby is born, do you understand me? And once the baby is out, so are you. You will never be welcome in our home again.”

Papa stormed out of the hospital room, and Dad and I followed wordlessly, too stunned to do anything else.

“Lucy, I hope you see now that none of this was even remotely your fault. That vile woman is a lost cause,” Papa growled as we fled the scene.

We exited the hospital to find that it had begun to snow.