I lift my head. “Cool. Friday night football. Just like Wisconsin.”
“You don’t talk much about Wisconsin,” Audrey tells me.
I shrug. “What’s to talk about? Anything worth talking about stopped when my grandparents died.” My chest gets tight thinking about it. The empty house. The way the employees still keep the farm running smoothly without much family involved. Just my dad’s sister to oversee things unless Dad’s around—which isn’t very often.
“Why didn’t you stay with your aunt in Wisconsin?” Isla asks.
“They have four kids already. Dad and I talked about it and talked with Aunt Ruthie, and it was just easier and less chaotic to come out here. I would go completely nuts living with my four younger cousins—did I mention all four are boys?”
“Yikes!” Audrey says.
“So, your grandparents helped raise you?” Isla asks.
I nod. “They did. Any time Dad had to deploy, I stayed with them—which was a lot. He was gone more than he was home. I think it’s what kept him sane after he lost my mom.”
Audrey scoffs. “That wasn’t fair to you.”
“I didn’t mind. He’s not the kind of father to sit and read you bedtime stories. He’s not very forthcoming with his emotions, but you can see the pain in his eyes at the mention of my mother. Sometimes, I wish I’d known her longer so I could understand why he hurts so much. But life had other plans.”
Isla wraps an arm around my shoulders and leans her head on one of them. “I’m sorry, Jillie. I’m not sure what I’d do without my mom.”
Audrey laughs. “I know what I’d do without my mom. I’d have an alcoholic-free home and I wouldn’t be afraid to be there alone with her. She’s a mean and abusive drunk, and if I hit back, she makes sure I pay for it the next time we’re alone.”
“What the hell, Audrey?” I ask. “You never said a word to me about her hitting you.”
She looks away. “It’s not something that I find easy to talk about.”
“I can understand that,” I admit. “Tell me about Ellen.” I have a feeling these two things are tied together.
Audrey flinches. “It goes without saying that you don’t tell anyone about this.”
I nod.
“Ellen was my best friend in grade school and even in middle school—up until seventh grade.”
Oh crap. This is going to be bad. I can just tell.
“We always had sleepovers at her house, but her dad had that big case in L.A., so her mom asked my mom if we could have the sleepover at our house. She, of course, said yes. I mean, who would turn down the Watkins’? Things were going great. Mom hadn’t had a drink all day. Then, we went out to dinner at her insistence. Dad was gone on business again, so it was just us three. Ellen was all for it. She got to dress up. She’s always liked to wear pretty things. I wasn’t as excited because I knew my mom always drank with dinner. That night was no exception.”
“Oh no,” I mutter.
“She was getting obnoxiously loud, talking to people she knew as they came in. When we were ready to leave, the restaurant offered their personal car to take us home. But, of course, she declined. She was just fine, she said. We—Ellen and I—were holding hands in the back seat. We were afraid. Mom was singing with the radio, constantly changing the stations, and not paying attention to the road like she should. She went over the center line and we were hit hard enough by another car to have my mother veering off the road and hitting a tree.”
Audrey touches the back of her neck, as if she’s remembering something.
“The pain. Whiplash, they said, was excruciating. The worst part was, Ellen had it, too—and, her dad’s a lawyer, remember. When they showed up at the hospital, it was all yelling and threats. Ellen and I were second thoughts. I looked at her and she looked at me. We knew our friendship was over. The next Monday, I was still in a neck brace from the whiplash and Ellen had already made new friends. She also made sure to inform the entire school about my alcoholic mother’s drunk driving episode and how it injured me, and how lucky we were her father didn’t sue us.”
I gasp.
Audrey nods. “It was a short-lived tale, but it was out there long enough to hurt me, and that’s what she was going for. Ellen’s the type to make a big hype about the accident instead of just not being friends. See, she’d have to answer questions as to why, so she just made me and my mother out to be monsters. My motherisa monster. I was just her best friend.”
Tears trickle down Audrey’s cheeks and she quickly wipes them away. “You see, Ellen broke my little girl heart. She humiliated me and left me alone with my monster of a mother, and she never looked back. Not once has she ever asked if I’m okay. That was ‘the end’ as far as Ellen was concerned.”
Isla doesn’t say a word. She’s just silently listening and crying.
“That is such bullshit!” I yell, attracting unwanted attention of a few people. I mutter, “Sorry,” and they go back to whatever they were doing.
“Are you okay?” I ask Audrey. “Are you safe? Does she still hit you?”
