Day Twenty-Four

Day Twenty-Four

There's a knock at the Seg door.

I don't get up as it opens. Janet walks across the room and stands over me, a phone in her hand.

"Bella," she says. "There's someone on the phone for you."

"I don't care. Isn't that against the rules? I'm supposed to be in isolation." My voice is flat.

Being alone can really do a number on you.

"Yes," she says. "But it's a little girl. She says you're her sister."

From the phone, I hear a tiny voice say, "Bella, where are you?"

I grab the phone. Janet steps away but doesn't leave.

"Ricci," I breathe. "Ricci, are you all right? Where are you?"

Small hiccupping. "I'm at Daddy's. I'm supposed to be with Mommy, but they trade me every three days now, since you went away. Where are you? It is Christmas Eve. Mommy said you're on a school trip, but school is out, Bella."

My heart sinks. She sounds so sad. And what an awful way to put it: being traded. Like a toy.

"Ricci…where is Daddy?"

"He's right here. On the couch. He's sleeping. Bella, I heard my friend's mom talking at school and she said you're in the hospital. Are you…going to die, like Grandma?"

A thousand knives pierce my body.

"No, Ricci, I'm not." I take a deep breath. "I'm…I wasn't doing too well, but I went away to get better. I'm not…I'm not going to die."

She whimpers. "I knew you weren't on a field trip. Field trips don't last that long, and they don't happen at Christmas. You would have sent me a postcard."

"I would have. Ricci, where's Vanessa? Is she there?"

A pause. "Vanessa hasn't been here in a long time. Daddy doesn't want to talk about it."

I close my eyes. Daddy doesn't want to talk about it.

"Are you coming home soon? Tomorrow is Christmas. Daddy didn't get a tree. Mommy's taking me to Agnes's."

"I—" I look up at Janet like she can help me, but she can't. I know she can hear everything. She averts her eyes. I bet she knows if I got added time for attacking Charlotte.

"I'll be home, but I don't know when. But I'm not going to die, okay, Ricci? And I miss you so much."

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you too. Can you wake Daddy up, please?"

"Okay."

I hear the phone thunking on something hard and then her whispering, "Daddy, wake up. Bella's on the phone. Wake up, Daddy."

"Bella? What's wrong?" His voice is hoarse. "Are you all right?"

I suck in a breath.

"No, Dad, I'm not all right. I'm in rehab and one of my friends here died and another one OD'd and my baby sister called me to ask if I'm going to die. I'm not all right. At all."

"Bella—"

I cut him off.

"Listen to me," I say, gritting my teeth. "You go out and get her a Christmas tree, right now. She is seven years old. Then you decorate that tree with her tonight. There's colored paper in the drawer in her dresser in our bedroom. Staple some rings, glue them, I don't care. But decorate that tree. And if you didn't get her any presents because you were too tired or you forgot or you thought Mom or Vanessa would take care of it, you take her to Walmart and buy her whatever the hell she wants."

"Bella, listen—"

"No, I'm not going to listen. After all that's done, you and Mom are going to sit down and figure out how to tell Ricci the truth, by yourselves, before I come home, whenever that is, because I'm currently in a locked room for god knows how long. Do your job, goddammit."

Before I hang up, I add, "Merry Christmas."

I hand the phone back to Janet. My hands are shaking.

"Well done," she murmurs. "I liked that sign-off."

"Well," I say, "he is my dad."

She smiles.

"I don't understand how she got that number," I say. "She's seven. How would she get the number if they told her I was on a school field trip?"

Janet hesitates. "Listen," she says.

"What?"

"It sounds like there are some issues with your dad, and we don't need to go into that? I kind of got the gist by your very one-sided conversation, but you should know…he calls here every day."

"What?"

"Pretty much every day. He doesn't ask to talk to you. He knows you probably won't talk to him, I guess. But he just wants to know how you are. Good day, bad day, okay day, eating all right, that sort of stuff."

My dad has been calling to check on me every day and I didn't even know. Frustrated tears spring to my eyes.

"That's probably how she got the number. She looked in his phone, and he saved it with your name. That's my guess. I'll bring you dinner in a little bit and take you to the restroom."

Janet leaves.

My dad couldn't reschedule a meeting to come see me, but he calls every day. My dad and mom lied to my little sister and she thought I was going to die. One friend did die, the other almost, and I think I punched Charlotte at least three times before Josh pulled me off her.

And I'm stuck in this room.

I pick up the beanbag and rip it to shreds.