Charlie swallows, looks away. A single tear slides down her cheek, but it only makes me angrier that she pulls this shit, then cries about it.
“We could have gotten arrested last night,” I say, coming closer, dropping my voice. “Did you know that public nudity is a sexual offense in Virginia, Charlie? What do you think my chances of keeping Rusty would be if I were on a registry?”
“I didn’t think about that,” she whispers.
No shit.
“You’re going to make me lose her,” I say.
Charlie looks at me like I’ve slapped her. She goes white, then pink. She rubs her swollen eyes with the heels of her hands, then takes a deep breath.
“No, I won’t,” she says.
Then she turns. She leaves, practically fleeing down the hallway, and I watch her until she’s gone around the bend.
I’m still furious at her: for going behind my back with my own daughter, for getting Rusty hurt, for never thinking a goddamn thing through even once in her life, for never knowing what day it is.
And I’m terrified.
I’m terrified that I’m right, that falling for Charlie came with the price of losing Rusty.Chapter Thirty-FiveCharlieI’m a fucking mess. People on the elevator stare at me — sobbing, snotting, wearing a hospital gown over a bikini top and shorts — and subtly move away.
I don’t care. Daniel’s right. He’s fucking right about everything, about the sliding rocks and the carousel and the skinny dipping. He’s right that I’m a walking disaster, that I’m a human wrecking ball.
And he’s right that if he loses Rusty it’ll be my fault. The knife? That was me. The broken arm? Me. Almost getting arrested?
Me, me, me.
There’s a loose end in Daniel’s life and her name is Charlotte McManus.
When I get to where I parked a few hours ago, Daniel’s car is sitting there, and for a second I’m confused and then I remember we switched cars because of Rusty’s booster seat, and fuck everything.
Fuck booster seats. Fuck cars. Fuck rocks in mountain creeks and fuck arms for breaking and most of all, fuck Daniel for being right about me.
For a hot second, I consider just taking his car and letting him figure it out when they release Rusty in a few hours. Fuck, that’s probably what he thinks I’m going to do, because I’m sure Daniel has remembered that I had his car and his keys and Daniel probably keeps a spare set on himself at all times, just in case.
I’m sure Daniel has a backup plan for getting home because he expects me to forget that Rusty still needs a booster seat, and he thinks I’m so brainless and selfish that I’ll just take his car.
He’s so close to right, but I don’t. I crouch down next to the car and put his keys on top of the back passenger-side tire, the heat radiating off the black rubber.
Then I text Seth, because I know he’s still upstairs, and I cannot handle texting Daniel right now. I turn my phone off before he can text me back.
Then I turn and walk home, still wearing a swimsuit and a hospital gown. If they want it back, a nurse can chase me down.Sunday morning, there’s a knock on my door. I’m still in bed, spread-eagled and face down on a pillow, staring at a pile of stuff on my bedside table because I don’t want to get up.
I fucked up. I’ve gotten Rusty hurt twice now because I’m an irresponsible dumbass who can’t even keep track of the days of the week. It’s a miracle that I haven’t burned the whole town of Sprucevale down yet.
And what do irresponsible dumbasses do? They stay in bed all day.
Whoever it is knocks again. It’s not Daniel, because that’s not how he knocks — his is always a firm knock knock, and this is a more impatient, slightly softer knockknockknockknockknock.
The third time I hear it, I realize it’s my sister’s knock, and even if I don’t answer it right now there’ll be no escaping her, so I may as well get out of bed and see what she wants.
“Hi!” she says brightly when I open the door. “I was just popping by to see if you wanted some reusable grocery bags, since someone left literally three hundred of them in the school’s donation box — are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, leaning against the door frame.
“Uh huh,” she says, sounding completely unconvinced. “You’re wearing a swimsuit?”
I didn’t manage to get undressed last night, just sort of… laid on my bed and woke up later.
“It’s a new thing I’m trying,” I say.
“Are you also trying getting sunburned on only one side of your face?” she asks.
I put my hands to my cheeks. Sure thing, the left side of my face is hotter than the right side. It’s probably courtesy of my two mile walk home yesterday.