Chapter 20
Cassie
Now
The bloodred liquid swooshes from side to side and my mind scrambles. The glass is on a shelf; the wine inside shouldn’t be moving. What’s left of it anyway. I’d like to finish it but that means reaching for the glass. I’m so very tired. Once again, my eyes close. I have to force them open.
I can’t.
Maybe I drank too much. I try to turn my head to check the bottle, which is behind me on the floor, but my back slips against the cast-iron surface, making water splash everywhere.Splash, splash, splash.It’s loud. So dramatic. Like I’m in a barge in the middle of the big great sea.
Where am I?
There’s too much water in here.
Or not enough.
I reach over to the tap and turn on the hot water again. It feels nice as it flows over my stomach.
Today was weird. Did I make it up? No, something is wrong. Very, very, very wrong. I try to replay the events of the last few hours, but my mind can’t latch on to anything for long. There was Olivier saying that he loves me and then leaving me alone all night. My wallet,poof, gone, whenI needed it most. Some kind of weird-ass magic at the worst possible time.
Now I’m slipping, slipping, slipping the back of my skull hitting rock bottom.
I have to push.
Get out.
Breathe.
I want to breathe.
My phone. Where is it.
This is all Darren’s fault. If he hadn’t dumped me, I would never have met Olivier. Would never have fallen for his sweet, devoted act.I love you, Cassie.Asshole! He was saying all the right things, did anything I wanted, made me believe I was special. And I let him because if I came back from the city with someone like him, I thought Darren would get it. I was a catch. If I could get a handsome, successful city guy, then I’d be good enough for him. Ihadbeen good enough for him before he started to get all serious on me, and I would be good enough again. I’d dangle Olivier in front of his face for a while, and he’d come crawling back.
But then…he didn’t text me. Didn’t really react when we “bumped” into each other around town or at a friend’s place. It took me a while to understand what was going on: Darren didn’t think things were serious between Olivier and me. The guy talked about the city all the goddamn time. The girls kept asking if I was going to go back to the city soon. Clearly Olivier was, wasn’t he? Would I go with him? Was I going to abandon them all for the big city? I tried to look at him the way they saw him—with his accent and his pink shirts and his goatee. Not the kind of guy who was going to stick around our small town. To them all, Olivier was just a new fling. There was also the little problem of possibly going to jail if the government found out that our marriage was fake. For all these reasons, I had to go through with the “engagement.” I had to show them all.
Shivers course through me. I reach over to turn off the hot water, but my arm doesn’t go so far. My head lolls from side to side as water keepsstreaming over me. I’ll be asleep soon.
This is all my father’s fault. When I learned he died, my first thought was,good. Justice, at last.It made no difference to me anyway. He didn’t even bother coming to Mom’s funeral, just sent a bunch of bland white flowers and called it a day. When I was younger, on the rare occasions he called, Mom hovered over me, and I didn’t know what to say to him anyway. The most I got from him were birthday and Christmas cards. I’d rip up the envelope, hungry for the money. Would it be fifty dollars or seventy? Maybe a hundred? He switched it up all the time. Even though it pained me not to spend it right away, I’d leave it on the coffee table for a few days to make sure Taylor would see it. Would want it.
When Mom first told me I was getting a sister, I didn’t hate the idea. Growing up in that house, everything felt stuffy. And I don’t just mean the old furniture and the stale air. Mom didn’t talk much. Didn’t live much. I know she was depressed, but what about me? Then Taylor came and she was so fucking perfect. Clean and tidy and polite.Yes, Rae. Of course, Rae. Anything you want.She did her homework, put away her dolls—mydolls—set the table even before anyone asked her.You’re such a darling! Call me Mom.
It’s that wine Olivier ordered before he left. He opened it for me and even poured me a glass. Said it had to breathe, whatever that means. Such a gentleman. By the time I got into the bath, my lips were painted burgundy. With the fog in the mirror, it looked like I’d sliced my mouth open.
This is all Taylor’s fault. When Mom got sick, Taylor acted like the responsible one, again. Came home from wherever she’d gone and took charge of everything. But making smoothies, bringing warm blankets, and calling people to invite them for the wake don’t make you a daughter. You can cry all the tears in your basic little black dress. Still not your mother. And then, a few months later,I’ll come to the city with you, she said.You shouldn’t be alone at your father’s funeral.I laughed.Iwasn’t alone. Not like her.
I read the story online a few years after she came to live with us. Untilthen, Mom had only told me the basics: Taylor’s mom wasn’t doing well and had done a bad thing. She’d forgotten about her daughter, just that one time, but because of that she had to go away to a bad place for a while. Taylor didn’t have any other family, so she’d come to live with us. The real story was this: Taylor’s mom was an addict. The news outlet didn’t say it like that, but it’s true. Booze or drugs or pills, I’m not sure.
It was the middle of summer, one of these hundred-degree days when you feel like you can’t even think straight. An older couple was walking down the street and saw a little girl—she was five at the time—inside a car. It was parked, and there was no driver in sight. No parent. The windows were closed. It was so hot! The girl was pressing her sweaty palms against the window. She had red chubby cheeks, tears streaming down her face, and she was panting, sticking her tongue out like a dog. (I’m adding this last part, I can just picture her.) She wasn’t even calling for help. She was so hopeless, used to being left behind. That’s what people assumed later. Her mother said she’d only been gone forty-five minutes. No, twenty. Maybe it was an hour. Or two? She went upstairs to their apartment to drop off the groceries and then… She had no fucking clue. Anyway, she went to prison and left her burden behind for Mom and me to deal with. When she got out years later, she never even bothered to come back for her daughter.
At least that’s what Taylor believes. She turned up at the house once—her mom, I mean. I was about eleven, home “sick” from school. Mom saw her through the window and bolted out the door, yelling at me to stay in my room. I didn’t know who it was at the time—I only put two and two together later on—but of course I did my best to eavesdrop.
Not now,I heard that day.She’s doing well. We all are. Maybe when you’re clean.
But Iamclean!the woman screamed.Let me see her. I’ve waited so long to see her again.
I’ll think about it.Mom sounded terrified. Someone was coming afterher favorite daughter!But not now. Not now. Please, please, please.
