Shem Creek (25 page)

He was telling the truth. At least, at that moment, I believed him. I opened Gracie’s eyes to see what her pupils looked like and they were a little enlarged. Her eyes were bloodshot.

“Was she smoking pot? Just tell me!”

“Um, I don’t know, but some of the other guys were, so, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Your knuckles are bleeding. Go wash your hands good and get some ice from the freezer. Why are your knuckles bleeding, Alex? What the hell happened?”

“They hit this asshole’s, um, sorry . . .”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“They hit this creep’s jaw a couple of times. I’m gonna call my dad to come get me, okay?”

“Sure. And give me a cold washcloth!”

Gracie’s hair was a mass of tangles. I took the wet cloth from Alex and began wiping her face, over and over, trying to bring her around. Then I wiped her hands. She moaned and said something I couldn’t understand.

“What is it, Gracie? It’s Momma. Talk to me.”

“ ’Sokay, Ma.”

“Gracie! Let’s try to sit up! Come on!” I got her to almost sit by pushing pillows under her shoulders. “Come on, Gracie! Talk to me! What did you take? Why are you in this shape? Did you do any drugs?”

“No! Oh, oh . . . I don’t feel so good . . . Momma! Help me!”

One of the few blessings of a small home is a short path to the bathroom. I held her head while she was sick, and in between bouts of nausea I let her rest on the bathroom floor.

I heard Brad come in and I could hear him talking to Alex through the walls but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Alex had seemed sober enough and I tried to think of why he had called his father when he could have just gone home with his friend. That had to mean that something else had happened and that Alex had not told me what it was.

“Gracie? Gracie? Let’s try to get you to your bed, okay?”

“Okay,” she said and then she started to cry. “Oh, God, I hate those boys! Redneck assholes!”

“Do you want to tell me what happened, Gracie? Or do you want to tell me in the morning?”

“Tomorrow, ’kay? Gotta sleep. I feel awful!”

I pulled back her covers and let her tumble into her bed, smoothing her hair away from her face. On another night, I would have been furious with her. But my maternal instincts told me that she had fallen victim to something I hoped Alex could explain.

I turned off the light next to her bed and left her door ajar, so I could listen for her. I tightened my robe and went to face the rest of my
Little Night Music.

Brad was in the kitchen leaning against the counter and Alex was leaning in the refrigerator.

“I told him he could have a can of Coke,” Brad said. “How’s Gracie?”

“She’s seen better days,” I said. “So, does somebody want to tell me what’s going on with my daughter?”

“How cold is it in here?” Brad said. “Do you want me to adjust your thermostat?”

On any other occasion I would have read something lewd into that, but this was no time for jokes.

“I’ll do it,” I said, and slid the thermostat bar to the right. “You’re right; it’s freezing.”

Alex closed the refrigerator door, popped open the soda can and cleared his throat. “Ms. Breland? Here’s the story. I know we never should have gone to this guy’s house in the first place, but we did and I just want to say that I apologize for taking Gracie there.”

“Your apology is accepted,” I said, thinking this was a very formal sentiment for a young man of his age.

“Yes, ma’am, I appreciate it. You see, there were about fifty or a hundred kids there . . .”

“Where was the house? And, whose house was it?”

“Uh, well, the house was out Mathis Ferry Road, in one of those subdivisions and I don’t know who owned it . . . one of the guys who plays defense for Wando. His parents were out of town.”

“That figures,” Brad said. “Linda, do you want coffee or anything?”

“No, it’s late, but thanks.”

“Anyway, what happens is one cell phone calls another cell phone and the next thing you know there are cars and people coming from all over, looking for a party,” Alex said. “Somebody brings vodka and somebody else has beer and then some idiot has pot and another one has something else . . . you get the picture, right?”

“I think we get the picture,” I said. “So how come you’re straight and Gracie’s in the state she’s in?”

“Because I didn’t stay with her and when the house got crowded, we got separated. Some girl said to her,
Come on to the kitchen. Somebody brought jots and brownies.
”

“Jots?” I said.

“Yeah, you mix like cherry Jell-O with vodka or rum and jell it in these little plastic cups. So, Gracie must have had a bunch of them and eaten some brownies too.”

“The brownies were loaded with pot,” Brad said.

“Did you eat any brownies?” I said.

“No way,” Alex said, “I had six tacos before we got there. I wasn’t hungry. If I hadn’t been stuffed, I might have though.”

“Did Gracie know they had pot in them?” I asked.

“No. I’m sure of that. Ms. Breland, look, Gracie and I are new at Wando. Those girls never said a word—not that I heard anyway. They don’t like Gracie because she’s good-looking and she’s got this big personality and they’re just a bunch of jealous bit—”

“Alex!” Brad said.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “Anyway, if I want to get tanked, I’ll do it with Dad. If I get caught drinking, I can’t play ball. And, I don’t know all these people yet, so I don’t trust them. Dad says you never drink with people you don’t trust. I mean, Gracie’s different. She thinks everybody’s nice and all.”

“And, they’re not,” I said.

“That’s right. They sure are not. That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way. When I was in Atlanta, I wanted to join this club in school. And to get in you had to shoplift something. So I took this DVD from this store and got caught. The one time I did something like that in my life and I got caught. It was pretty . . . well, it was terrible for my mom. I could’ve gotten kicked outta school, but I didn’t because my mom went down there and begged and I had never been in any trouble before. . . .”

There was silence for a moment as Brad and I let Alex relive the moment and think about his mother. We were not surprised to see him get choked up as he tried to continue. It was high time he showed some emotion.

“Then Mom got killed and I just couldn’t
believe
it. She was
still
pissed off at me and had just screamed at me for the hundredth time right before she left the house . . . it was raining and I told her to be careful and she gave me this look, this look like she
hated
me and . . . and I don’t think I’ll
ever
forget that. . . .” Alex’s voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Alex, you never told me that,” Brad said. “But, I can promise you your mother did not hate you. She loved you very—”

“I know, I know. It was just a lousy coincidence or something. Anyway, that’s when I learned the awful truth about life being unpredictable and all. Oh, hell, and the next thing I know I’m in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina? I mean, where the hell am I?”

Alex’s face was filled with anxiety. Brad put his arm around Alex’s shoulder and hugged him. Alex crumbled into a mass of tears and sighs. The poor kid. He had been carrying all his grief and trying to be so stoic. Kids weren’t supposed to have to be so strong all by themselves.

“I’m sorry, I just . . .”

“Alex,” I said. “Please don’t worry about it. . . .”

I grabbed a tissue and handed it to him.

“It’s okay, son,” Brad said.

Alex blew his nose and took another tissue and blew his nose again.

“Anyway, Gracie needs someone to look out for her and I was supposed to be that person tonight and I didn’t do a very good job and that’s why I stayed around here . . . to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Why did you call your dad? I mean, you could’ve had that other kid take you home.”

“Because Gracie had me
scared
. You know? I mean, she could’ve dropped a bunch of bad acid or X for all I knew and I got scared. I always, well
now
anyway, I call my dad.”

I could hardly believe my ears. The teenagers I knew hid everything they could from their parents. Here was this kid who fessed up and took the rap when I wasn’t going to blame him anyway. But Alex had been thoroughly traumatized by his mother’s death. I could see that he was suffering from trying to be perfect—the perfect son, the perfect friend, and the all-around perfect kid.

“Alex, listen to me, sweetheart,” I said. “First of all, we have never talked about your mother’s death and I never knew your mother, but I can promise you this. Her annoyance with you over the shoplifting incident had nothing whatsoever to do with her death. Everyone feels guilty when someone dies in an accident. It’s
normal
to feel that way.”

“Yeah,” Alex said, quietly, “I guess so.”

“Linda’s right,” Brad said. “Look, son, you know your mom and I had some serious problems, but when I heard about her accident I knew that it was just that. An accident. But I felt guilty anyway.”

“
You
did? Why? I thought you must’ve been happy to see her get hers!”

“No way.” Brad took a deep breath. He looked at me and said, “You got any beer?”

“Sure,” I said and reached in the refrigerator and took out a can. “You want a glass? Why don’t we sit down for a minute?”

Before Brad could answer me I had already taken out a glass and begun pouring. They sat at the table—Alex with his Coke and Brad with his thoughts. Brad began to talk.

“Look, don’t you think that I feel responsible for leaving your mother?”

“You weren’t fooling around, Dad.
She
was. And
I
got stuck living with her.”

“Yeah, I know. I think we all thought that she would let you see me more and I had intentions of bringing you down for the summer anyway. I thought that summers would make up for not seeing you so much during the school year and I know now that was wrong. I mean, in some ways, I think I should have stayed in Atlanta until you went to college, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t . . . .”

“Dad! It’s okay! Really! If I had been you, I would’ve left too!”

“Well, thanks for saying that but that’s what pride will do for you. Anyway, ever since our marriage blew up I always felt like if I had been a better husband—you know what I mean, right? I was always working, always on a plane, always closing a deal, always looking for the next one—anyway, if I had been around more, maybe your mom wouldn’t have become involved . . . you know what I’m saying, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I poured myself a glass of wine from the oversized bottle in the refrigerator and sat down next to them.

“So, if I had been a better husband, she wouldn’t have been all tangled up with Archie and then there wouldn’t have
been
an accident! See what I mean? It’s sort of like you saying that if you hadn’t ripped off the DVD, she wouldn’t have been angry and she might have seen where she was going and then . . . follow me?”

“Yeah,” Alex said. “But I didn’t send her downtown to go meet him that day. That was her choice. Is that what you mean?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Brad said. “Choices have consequences.”

“And some choices have serious ones,” I added.

“Boy, you can say that again. Mom’s dead, Gramps is drinking himself into oblivion and I’m in Mount Pleasant. Not that it’s so bad, because it isn’t. In fact, it’s really a lot better than I thought it would be.”

“We should try to do something for ol’ Theo.” Brad sighed and shot me a look that said he was thinking it would be good if Theo dropped dead too.

“Well, I am sure that you and Gracie have talked about being here a lot. She didn’t want to live here either. But your mother’s death brought Gracie a great friend who she surely needed, especially with her sister leaving and all. You know?”

“And, son, time heals. Look, as time goes on and you and Gracie make other friends, you’ll see.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex said. “It’s just been rough. Losing Mom, coming here, I don’t know anybody really. . . .”

“We’d better go, son, that is, if you think Gracie can just sleep it off, Linda?” Brad said.

“She threw up her brains tonight,” I said, trying to lighten things up. “I think she’s gonna have a big head tomorrow but she’ll live.”

“Okay,” Brad said. He got up, put his glass in the sink and walked to the door. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Um, tomorrow’s Saturday. I’m not working tomorrow. I took the day off.”

“Oh. Right. I forgot.”

“I’ll see you Monday then.”

“Okay, well . . .”

I opened the door for him and he looked at me as though he was expecting something else. I stuck out my hand to shake his in thanks. He eyed it with suspicion and extended his hand. I shook it but not like a trucker. He smiled with relief, and of course the back of my neck got all clammy with embarrassment for some stupid reason.

“Yeah, see? Not so dangerous! Hey, Alex?”

Alex was already halfway down the steps but he turned back to me. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Thanks, Alex. Gracie should have known better. And she’s awfully lucky to have you for a friend. So am I.”

Even in the darkness, I could see him smiling. I knew I still didn’t have the whole story, but I would wrench the rest of it out of Gracie by Sunday.

I did not want them to see me watching them turn their car around. I stood there behind my screen door like a puppy until their taillights were out of sight. So! They saw me. Big deal! Why would they care that I was wearing the tackiest terry-cloth robe in captivity. I was thinking about Alex and Brad and how their life had been hacked to pieces but they had just carried on.

I slipped into Gracie’s room to see how she was doing and don’t you know my little lamb was fast asleep, her breath rising and falling like all innocence. I just shook my head. This child was a mule. It was time for us to have a serious discussion about her trusting nature, her morality, drugs, alcohol and a few other topics as well.