Audrey gave a faint smile. “Born that way, I guess. I try to hide it, though. I don’t want to make the people around me feel inferior.”
Grace laughed. “You’re right, though. That kind of situation creates a special kind of isolation. I just wanted a normal family. The worst times were when we socialized. Because she was good at disguising her problem, everyone thought she was just loud and fun, but I could never relax because I was terrified that she’d cross the line.”
“Did you have to do all the stuff in the house??
??
“Yes, because Dad was always working. My grades slipped.”
Audrey leaned back. “What happened? You’re a teacher, so you can’t have crashed out.”
“My grandmother came for a visit. She and my mother had a difficult relationship. My grandmother was a very independent woman.” Where would she be if Mimi hadn’t descended on them all those years ago? “She was a single parent, which was unusual for those times, I guess. My mother blamed her for not being around much when she was growing up. I think my grandmother blamed herself for that, too. That’s why she was determined to help. She moved in with us and took over the house. Things changed then. Mimi is like a force of nature. She took on the burden of my mother and encouraged me to get on with life. She was the reason I came to Paris at eighteen. I think she was hoping I’d stay here.”
“But you didn’t.”
Grace stood up and stared across the rooftops. “I was on my way to meet Philippe when I had a phone call telling me my parents had been killed on the way back from a party. Their car went into a tree.”
There was silence. “I’m so sorry, Grace.” Audrey whispered the words. “Were they—Was your mother—”
“Drunk? Almost definitely. Was she driving? No one knows. They spun off the road, hit a tree and were both flung through the windscreen. Neither of them were wearing a seat belt. I’ve asked myself over and over again whether my father would have let her drive. I hope not, but he lived his life pretending none of it was happening so it’s not impossible. And I felt so guilty. I thought that maybe I should have tried harder to get help for her. That maybe if I hadn’t left for Paris, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Grace nodded. “Over the years I came to understand that, but it took a long time and a small part of me still wonders if I could have done more.”
“The only person who knew about the drinking was your grandmother?”
“And David.” Grace thought back to that time. “David was my best friend. We went to kindergarten together. Then high school. We ran the school newspaper, although we weren’t involved at that point. He was the only person I talked to. When I got the call, I flew back from Paris, and he was at the airport. The whole thing was a blur. David stayed with me the whole time.” She sat down. “There was something else—something I’ve never told anyone, not even Mimi.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
“I want to.” It felt like a relief to share it. “David was working for the local newspaper at the time. A summer job before going to college. He was working the night my parents had the accident and because his bosses knew he had a personal connection with me, they sent him to the scene. They wanted him to find the human story. Dig a little.”
Audrey’s mouth tightened. “You mean they wanted him to dish the dirt.”
“And he could have done. David knew my mother was an alcoholic. He could easily have told them that, but he didn’t.” Remembering it brought a lump to her throat. David had always prided himself on reporting the truth, but in this case he’d turned away from it. He’d done it for her. Because he loved her. “It was reported as being a tragic accident, and I was always so grateful to him for that.”
“But it was a tragic accident.”
Grace looked at her. “Yes, it was.”
“And what good would it have done if people had known? None. That’s not in the public interest, it’s ghoulish interest, like when there’s an accident and people stop and stare. I’ve never got that.”
“Me neither.”
The shared honesty had brought them closer.
“I won’t ever say anything, Grace, so don’t worry about that.” At that moment Audrey seemed at least a decade older than her eighteen years. “And I totally get why you’d feel guilty, even though none of it was your fault. I feel guilty a lot of the time. And angry.”
“You think to yourself that if they loved you enough, they’d stop. But they don’t stop, so you assume that means they don’t love you.”
Audrey stared at her. “That’s it. That’s it exactly.”
Grace felt a tug of compassion. “Believe me, I felt all those things, too. It’s helpful to remember that it’s an illness, not a choice. It’s not as simple as that. Who have you talked to about it?”
“You.”
“That’s it? You’ve been carrying this on your own all these years?”