“We received word today that Mrs.—”
I cut him off. “I don’t really want to know her name or anything else about her. Nothing about her makes her human because, in my mind, she will always be a monster. It’s bad enough that I know what she looks like from the folder you showed me of her mugshot.” I rub my temples.
“Right, I understand, Ms. Kennedy, but today was the sentencing, and it didn’t go as well as we would have liked.” I stiffen at his words.
“What do you mean it didn’t go as well as you’d like? What happened?” I fight the urge to curse, but I know better than to raise my voice and rage at a police officer on the phone. I want to get the whole story, and I know he called to tell me the truth even though he didn’t have to.
“There’s no good way to say this, so I will just come out andsay it. The judge went easy on her because it was her first offense. Despite her current addiction to opioids and other substances that came back on her toxicology report, she wasn’t impaired at the time. Your father was driving recklessly, and that’s what caused him to lose control of the car.”
I interrupt. “But she was chasing them. Doesn’t that prove reckless or something?”
“Witnesses on the scene contradict that and say that your father was the one out of control. Not to mention that his blood alcohol level was slightly elevated.”
“Pfft. Oh, come on. You and I both know that if she wasn’t chasing them, then my father wouldn’t have felt compelled to lose her. And she made my mother cry.”
“Although the latter is not a crime, I understand your grief.”
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter under my breath. “So what does this all mean for her?”
“I’m sorry to say that her charge of vehicular manslaughter was downplayed, considering the circumstances, to a misdemeanor.”
“No,” I say into the phone. “No, no, no, no,” I mutter again, gasping at my sudden loss of air.
“She could be out in thirty or sixty days, Nadia, but I doubt she will do over ninety days in jail.” I slam my hand down on the table before me, tipping over the lamp.
“Seriously, that’s it? For killing my parents. Ninety days, max? Where’s the justice in that?” I question Officer Stanley.
“I’m so sorry, Nadia. We tried to lengthen the sentence, but we just couldn’t. I feel like I failed you.” I rub away the tears that pool in my eyes.
“I know you aren’t to blame, Officer Stanley.”
“Please, Nadia. Call me Mitchell.”
“Mitchell, I know it’s not your fault, but the system failed me. That’s for sure. She will walk away free very soon, and my parents are never going to walk again because they are lying in a grave right now. A grave that doesn’t even have a headstone at the moment. I’m sorry, but I just can’t right now.” I disconnect the call without another thought. I stand up and walk to where my latte is, probably cold on the countertop. I throw it away and crumble to the floor ina heap of self-pity. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting on the kitchen floor. I know that I have to go to work. I can’t call out on my first shift, so I gather myself upright and walk to the bedroom.
I strip out of my clothes and turn on the water in the shower. I don’t turn it on hot, but instead, I grit my teeth at the cold drops that land on my heated skin. I feel like I’m on fire and can’t turn it off. I want to feel something, and the bite of the cold well water that shoots through the showerhead on full blast reminds me that I’m alive. I’m alive while my parents are dead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ishow up to work at the Big Lake Tavern fifteen minutes before my shift starts. “Hey, you made it,” Gage says behind the bar.
“Of course.” I lift my hand in the air, palm out, much like the emoji Savannah and I always send each other.
He beckons me over with his hand, and I walk toward him. “Here, let me show you the ropes before Jen gets here to relieve me.”
The shift goes by slowly. For a Sunday night, not much is going on. I had a couple of tables earlier, but now I sit, looking at the moon reflecting on the water as nightfall begins. This place is open every weekday until 10 p.m. and closes at midnight on the weekends. It’s the perfect gig to keep me busy this summerbefore I can decide what comes next.
I’ve been avoiding thoughts of home. My parents’ home. I managed to clean out the lake house, but the house in the city still waits for me. Just the thought of sorting through their belongings is enough to throw me into a full-blown panic attack, so I decide to wait until after summer. When I go back, I’ll also have to place their headstones at their final resting place. At least by the time I return to school for my final year before graduation, I’ll have that behind me. The future may be unknown, but the path forward will finally be clear from the loose ends that tie me to that horrific time. A fresh slate, if you will.
I hear someone come up to sit beside me. “Here,” Gage’s replacement tonight says, “it’s almost time to close. I thought you might like to split this beer with me.” Jen pours a beer into two glasses and sets one down before me. “Do you like beer? I hope I didn’t assume.”
I wave it off. “No, I love beer. I always met my dad for oysters on the half shell and a Corona Light, dressed up with salt and lime. It was our thing when he wrapped up his work day in the summer—our Friday happy hour.” I take a swig of the beer. I’m not sure why I shared that. It just slipped out, the way some memories do at times when we least expect it.
Jen smiles at me. “Oh, that sounds so nice.” She takes a drink. “Is he here or back home this summer?”
My smile fades for a moment. “He’s back home,” I answer. I don’t want to get into it with her because telling a stranger my entire story feels too personal. And technically, I’m not lying. Heisback home.
Sensing that I don’t want to talk anymore, Jen stands up. “Well, we should get the rest of this place closed up.” Thirty minutes later, we are walking out, laughing about a story involving the owner’s niece, Mandy. “You’ve got to meet her,” Jen states. “She’s a hoot.”
