Chapter 20

Laura

September

I'm late to work. Again. Jack had me pick up milk and now I have to deal with Rose being annoyed about it, like I get preferential treatment, which I don't.

You'd think since my brother owns the company and all I'm doing is filing and typing, that he'd take it easy on me. But he doesn't. Jack can be an asshole about work stuff. He takes it all so very seriously. Which, I guess, is probably how he's made himself so successful. Unlike me. I don't take anything seriously. Well, except my art studio. I threw everything into it and look how that turned out.

When our dad left, I became the loose cannon while Jack became the stoic, responsible one. He was doing a paper route by the time he was thirteen, while I'd already started smoking and taking vodka shots. At sixteen, Jack was busy selling pot out of the gym lockers, while I was busy stealing pot from him and getting high with my friends. In high school, they called Jack Mr. Business. He's still Mr. Business, only now he sells property, not drugs.

"Nice of you to come in today," Rose snips.

"Sorry I'm late. I got milk, aaannnnddd I brought a coffee with extra sugar and a pastry just for you, Rose," I say brightly as I set the pastry and coffee on her desk.

Rose is on Atkins. Rose has no self-control. Rose reaches for the pastry, and I don't even bother to hide my smirk.

Jack strides out of his office, on his way to his next meeting.

"Morning, girls," he calls cheerfully.

Girls? Sometimes I loathe my brother.

I turn my computer on with a sigh and check my phone as I wait. I've received a few more weird texts over the last few weeks, and now I'm nervous whenever my phone pings. I block the numbers, but the texts just come in from new ones. I've thought about telling Pete, but I'm worried he'll find out I met up with Theo. I'm sure whoever is texting has seen me with him. Not that Pete would be mad, he'd just wonder why I hid it.

The day inches by, seconds turning into minutes, minutes into hours. There's nothing interesting about organizing Jack's meetings, scheduling appointments, typing up client contracts.

At noon on the dot, I grab my things, jog down the stairs, and head up the block to my Tuesday yoga class, which Mel teaches. I change and hurry into the fitness room. Mel's already there, and she greets me with a smile.

I unroll my mat and get into a comfortable position, using the class as an opportunity to shake off the unsettled anxiety from those weird texts, the guilt from lying to Pete, the sadness of having my art studio fail, the irritation of working a dead-end job for my brother.

I breathe in through my nose, filling my belly with air, then exhale, forcing myself to relax. Just as class is beginning, an older woman rushes in. It's my neighbor Mrs. McCormack, who sometimes babysits the girls when Pete and I go out for date night. I lift a hand, and she nods at me as she ties her long silver hair in a ponytail.

Mel is a wonderful yoga teacher. She guides us expertly through the warm-up, then into our different poses, finishing up in child's pose. I feel more grounded after. No one's out to kill me. I'm just being paranoid. It's probably just a prank. One of Alice's or Ella's friends being stupid, not realizing how terrifying something like this can be. Kids their age would absolutely know how to get around me blocking all the numbers. I'm sure there's an app for that.

After class finishes, Mel chats with the other students, her face calm and poised. But I can see a stiffness in her, a tension. Ever since she got ill, those literal life-and-death thoughts have clawed at her. She tries to hide it, and mostly she does. But not from me.

I help her carry her yoga mat out to the car.

"You okay?" I ask. "You seem quiet."

"Do I?" She tilts her head.

"What's wrong? Is it your heart?" I ask quickly.

She laughs. "No. My heart's fine. Quit worrying about me! Finn was up a lot last night. Preschool's taking it out of him, and lately he's been like Satan. I think he's overtired. And you know he never wants Jack, just me." She stifles a yawn. "Honestly, I'm fine."

I remember how it was with the girls, how they'd get overtired, have those wide, crazed eyes. How they'd be hyper and excited, then turn weepy and angry. How impossible sleep seemed.

"Okay, phew. You almost gave me a heart attack," I joke.

Mel groans but laughs. "Too soon!"

I throw her yoga mat in the back of her car and give her a hug. We say goodbye; then I set out for the lake, settling on a park bench to eat my chicken sandwich. I'm just taking a massive bite when Theo appears.

"Hey, you." He gives me that grin, his eyes sparkling, and my stomach flips.

"Mmm," I say, chewing fast so I can speak. Heat climbs up my neck. "Hey, Theo."

I feel stupid reacting this way. I love my husband. I wouldn't risk the life I've built with Pete. But at my age, it's nice to feel beautiful. Special.

"Okay if I sit?"

"Sure."

He sits next to me, tells me he's gotten a job as a plasterer at Jack's new property development.

"When I saw you, I was actually interviewing for the job," he admits. "I didn't say anything because I knew Jack O'Brien was your brother, and I didn't want you thinking I was using you to get the job."

I think that's sweet and I tell him so. We watch as a boat motors by, a shirtless man at the wheel. Mrs. McCormack comes into view, carrying a paper bag of groceries. She lifts a hand in greeting but then notices Theo. Her eyes flick between us before she hurries away.

"Do you ever talk to Cody?" I ask after a minute. His name in my mouth is cut glass.

Theo seems surprised. Cody. The reason we broke up. The reason I walked away. Without even being around, Cody became too large a presence for either of us to ignore.

"I ... well, yes, I see him regularly." Theo takes a long swig of Coke.

I wait. I wanted to ask when I first saw him in the grocery store, wanted to confront it, this terrible thing I knew. About Theo. About what happened. Something I still feel awful about.

It was spring, junior year, and we'd been dating about nine months. I'd spent the night at Theo's apartment off campus, as I'd been doing more often. His place was clean, food always in the fridge, the heating always available. He had money, obviously. I didn't.

Theo walked me to my first class, Critical Issues in Contemporary Art, but on the way, we stopped at his friend Cody's apartment. He said he needed to drop something off. Cody was a drummer in Theo's band, so I figured it was music-related.

I liked Cody. He was a nice guy, talkative, young with sharp, ratlike features, a splash of freckles, a gap between his front teeth. He wasn't in college like the rest of us, but he often hung around, and I saw him whenever they played a gig.

I had a full day of classes, then a shift at the café where I worked. I remember being rushed off my feet bringing fancy cakes and cappuccinos to kids spending their parents' money. After work, I cut across the main intersection, heading back to Theo's, when I caught sight of flashing lights.

An ambulance was sitting in front of Cody's building.

"What happened?" I asked a girl standing out front. She was about my age, another student.

"I think some guy OD'd," she said, eyes wide. "I heard they found a paper bag full of drugs in his apartment."

A loud slam came from the building's front doors. Two paramedics rushed out, somebody on a stretcher. It was only an instant, the briefest flash as they hurried to the ambulance, but I saw who it was.

Cody.

Bile rose up my throat. The paper bag Theo had delivered, what had been inside?

Something was niggling at the back of my mind. A realization. How did Theo afford his nice apartment? His designer clothes, his new car? All those people who stopped by his apartment, were they friends, as I'd always assumed?

Like me, Theo's student loans barely covered tuition, let alone books or food or rent. But I worked to pay for those things. Theo didn't.

I refused to believe Theo dealt hard drugs. We smoked pot together, and Theo even dealt sometimes to close friends. But that wouldn't cause someone to OD, would it?

It turned out I was wrong. Because it wasn't pot inside that package, but oxy.

I broke up with Theo after that. I was furious. I felt betrayed. Cody might die because of him. I felt guilty by association.

"He was in a coma for a few weeks," Theo says now. "But he's doing okay."

His sentence trails off, and he looks out over the lake.

"That's good, right?" I say.

"Yeah. I mean ..." He sighs. "Honestly? There was some brain damage. He's in what's called a minimally conscious state. He's awake but can't really communicate. His sister cares for him, but she's been trying to get him into a care home lately. It's getting too much for her. I send her a check every month. To help out, you know ..."

"Oh my God!" I exclaim. "I had no idea."

Guilt overwhelms me. It wasn't my fault, but I still feel responsible. Like I could've prevented it, even though I know that isn't true.

Theo touches my hand. "But he's alive, that's what's important."

"I wish there was something I could do."

There's a beat of silence, and Theo meets my eyes.

"Maybe there is."