When You Were Mine

“All right.”

I look at Dylan, and he looks away. Everyone watches as I walk up to him and crouch down so I’m eye level with him, holding him by his skinny shoulders. “Bye, Dyl,” I say, and he doesn’t respond—doesn’t put his arms around me, doesn’t meet my gaze. Slowly, I straighten. I don’t mean to meet Ally’s eye, but I do, and she smiles sympathetically, which makes me grit my teeth. I don’t need her pity. She’s the one with the suicidal kid, not me.

I turn around and walk out of the kitchen, and no one says goodbye. Ally follows me, though, hurrying to reach the front door before I do. She puts one hand on it and I stop, waiting.

“Beth, I am sorry.”

“Fine.”

“I know what this must look like, feel like, but I promise you Dylan is being taken care of. He’s so sweet—I feel as if we talk together, even when he doesn’t say a word.” Like I used to with him.

I put my hand on the doorknob and reluctantly she steps back.

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and I don’t say anything as I open the door and walk out of the house.

24

ALLY

I know now I will forever divide my life into before and after—before Emma tried to kill herself, and after. The trouble is, I have no idea what the after looks like yet. What it will hold.

When I answered that call on Thanksgiving, and I spoke to the nurse in Massachusetts’ General Hospital, I was dazed and numb, barely aware of what she was saying, only catching every other word. Incident… critical… emergency room.

“But she’s going to be okay?” I demanded, my tone almost angry. “She’s going to be okay.”

Nick rose from the table, one arm outstretched. “Ally—”

“I think you should come,” the nurse said quietly, so quietly that we both heard my breath catch and tear.

Nick pumped me with questions as soon as I ended the call, but I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t even know what the nurse had meant by an incident. Had she been hit by a car? Assaulted? Suicide didn’t

even occur to me then.

I left maybe ten minutes later, after throwing some clothes in a bag and giving Dylan a quick hug. Nick wanted to come too, but we couldn’t leave Dylan or Josh alone, not considering everything.

“I’ll call you,” I said. “As soon as I can. And if… if you need to come…”

“I will,” Nick said. “Of course I will.”

The two-hour drive to Boston passed in a numb blur. I focused on the road, which was empty, since it was Thanksgiving—everyone had already gone where they needed to go. Every few minutes, my mind would veer towards the terrible unknown—what had happened, why, how bad it was. I couldn’t let myself go down those despairing alleys, and so I’d make myself stop thinking about it, and focus once more on the empty expanse of highway, the occasional eighteen-wheeler rumbling on the other side of the road, its lights flickering over me.

At the hospital, Emma had been moved off ICU into one of the general wards, which was a huge relief, but when the doctor spoke to me in one of those horrible little rooms, it was to tell me she’d overdosed on Xanax.

“Overdosed.” I stared at him stupidly, unable to comprehend what he was so obviously implying.

“Her friend called 911 when she found her unresponsive. We believe she took Xanax, as well as a great deal of alcohol, which is a particularly toxic combination. Fortunately, the paramedics gave her activated charcoal at the scene, and we were able to pump her stomach as soon as she came into the ER.”

I shook my head slowly, as if to deny what he was saying. “But…”

“Her friend wanted us to call you. She found your contact on Emma’s phone.”

I swallow dryly, trying to assemble my scattered, spinning thoughts. “And now…? Is Emma…?”

“She’s stable now, and our hope is she’ll regain consciousness in the next twelve hours.” The doctor paused, looking dutifully sympathetic; he couldn’t have been more than thirty. No doubt he’d drawn the short straw when it came to being on call over the holiday. “In these situations, we require the patient to see a mental health worker for an assessment before she is discharged.”

“And when would that be…?”

“Depending on when she regains consciousness, in the next day or two.”