Poor Blair, and poor Monica.
She’ll go back to the hospital later, after the church revival has died down. Clutching hands with other people and praying has always made her feel disoriented, claustrophobic. No, she’ll support Monica quietly, privately, on her own. Maybe bring a nice bouquet of flowers.
She’s halfway through her glass when she hears Nellie’s footsteps on the stairs. The sound is discordant with the heavy mood; it almost sounds like she’s skipping.
Nellie enters the kitchen in a robe, hair swathed on top of her head in a towel, skin pink from the shower. Her expression is neutral. “Well? How is she?”
“It’s pretty serious. She’s in a coma. I’m so sorry, honey.” Charleigh sets her wineglass down, hops off the barstool, flutters over to Nellie. Reaches for her. But her daughter takes a step back.
“Just tell me the rest!” Nellie practically howls.
“So, the head injury she suffered is bad. Like I said, she’s in a coma, but there is hope she’ll pull through.”
“Oh, thank God,” Nellie sighs.
Again, Charleigh reaches out to hug her. This time she allows it, but her body is stiff as a mannequin’s.
“I know you must be in shock, and I—” Charleigh’s voice teeters; she’s not a good counselor.
“I’m actuallystarving. I haven’t had much all day. What’ve we got to eat around here?”
Charleigh hears herself nearly choke on her surprise. One of Nellie’s oldest friends is lying in the hospital in a coma, and all she can think about is food? “Ummm…well, there’s all that barbecue left over from the party—”
“Yuck, no—”
“Then there’s some Hamburger Helper I could reheat?”
“Perfect.” Nellie goes to the fridge, pulls out a beer.
“Hey—” Charleigh starts to protest. Stops herself. “Fine. I was only letting you drink the other day—”
“So you could get your way—”
“No, but—okay, whatever. But just the one.”
Nellie pries the top off the bottle, downs half of it like a sailor.
As she watches her daughter, who’s acting like everything is normal, unease crawls over Charleigh’s skin; that same sense of foreboding she felt driving over to the hospital has returned. “You know you don’t have to put on a face, play tough in front of me. Nellie, I know you and Blair had your differences, but—”
“Mom! Get off it! You know we’re not even really friends, and she’s been a cunt to me for years now. No, I don’t want her to be hurt, and I truly hope she makes it out of the coma,obviously, but spare me the after-school-special bullshit, okay?”
Charleigh winces at Nellie’s words. Surely she should still be upset. At least more than she’s acting like. Just an hour ago, she was quaking in Charleigh’s arms.
“I understand all that,” she says through nearly clenched teeth, “but are you sure you’re all right? I mean, what you witnessed was pretty traumatic, and you looked pretty, well, traumatized when you came home.”
So why are you acting like a fucking psycho right now?Charleigh thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.
Nellie rolls her eyes, unwraps the towel, letting her wet Medusa curls spiral down her face. “It’s freaky, all right? Iamfreaked out by it. Fuck, Mom. I’m not amonster. But I kinda just want to push it out of my brain, you know?” She chugs the rest of her beer, clinks it down on the counter with a thud. “You gonna heat me up some dinner, or do I need to?”
Charleigh shrinks, spins around to the fridge, ducks inside. Itdoesmake sense for someone to want to try and push those images out of their mind. Nellie has a point. It makes rational sense. And sometimes, people disassociate when they have trauma. Lord knows she learned firsthand to do this living with her wretched parents. So that’s all that’s probably going on. But if it is, why does that sick feeling keep creeping over her?
As she slides the Tupperware of Hamburger Helper out, shebraves a question, not making eye contact as she asks it. “So, what all did you see?”
A sigh huffs out of Nellie. “Like, I didn’t actuallyseethe accident, okay? I was sitting on the shore, on the other side of the boathouse, kind of hanging away from everyone. Still pissed from last night.”
For some reason, this makes Charleigh feel better. “Okay, good, honey, I’m so relieved you didn’t actually have to witness it.”
“I just saw the canoe drifting out, and Blair’s body rolling off it, then all that blood.” Nellie shivers. “So much blood, Mom.” Her eyes look far away, distant.
