“Oh, Christ.” Andi whistles. “That’s … terrible. That affects college, jobs, every…”
“I know! Okay?” Ethan blurts in anger. “I need to get down to the police station, and I can’t leave Sophia. Topher’s out, so you need to come home.”
Andi takes a deep breath. “Why don’t you let Emily spend the night? It’s the obvious natural consequence. She needs to know she’s in deep trouble…”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Ethan explodes down the phone. “She already knows she’s in deep trouble. She’s seventeen years old and she’s just fucked up big-time. She’s terrified. She’s been sobbing on the phone, and she needs someone there. Now is not the time for consequences, okay? We’ll deal with that later.”
Andi recoils at his anger but takes a deep breath, doesn’t react. “I’ll go,” she says.
“What?”
“You stay with Sophia. I’ll leave now, and I’ll go straight to the police station. I’ll go with Drew.”
There is a long pause. “I think I should go,” Ethan says.
“No. Let me. She’s been very sweet with me recently. I think she may want me there as another woman, a mother figure.”
Ethan does not want to agree, but an opportunity for Emily and Andi to bond, even under these terrible circumstances, is not to be missed.
Andi is not offering because she is intent on cementing their newfound bond, although granted, that would be a welcome side benefit. She is offering because the histrionics that will ensue when Ethan walks into the police station do not bear thinking about.
Ethan has already said, again, that Emily is a child, she is already upset, she does not need to be upset further. Ethan is probably already thinking about how he can get her off, what explanation they can come up with that can make it all okay for Emily.
Andi is thinking about the consequences, what could be done to show her how grave this is, although zero tolerance will probably take care of that.
Worst-case scenario? If in fact she was the driver, surely that she will be charged with an underage DUI, and perhaps a regular one. Her license is likely to be suspended for a year. She will attend compulsory safety and alcohol-abuse classes. She will have to list it on all college applications and all job applications.
Andi knows she shouldn’t wish this on Emily, shouldn’t wish this on anyone, but isn’t this what she needs? Couldn’t circumstances as grave as this finally shock Emily into giving up the alcohol and the drugs? Force her to grow up, to follow a different path than her mother?
She thinks of today’s young stars, the celebrities who surround themselves with lawyers able to reduce the severity of any consequences, able to ensure that they will continue their lives, screwing up over and over, because nobody ever holds them accountable.
Doesn’t Emily need someone to say, “No! Enough! We’re watching?” Doesn’t she need an intervention before it’s too late?
Thirteen
“We’ve been pouring coffee and water down her,” the officer says, shaking her head. “She should have sobered up by now.”
Andi follows her mutely, noting that the place is enough to sober anyone up. She has been into the police station from time to time, but not back to the cells. This is where the criminals are kept, Andi thinks, reminding herself she is in Mill Valley, where the greatest crimes tend to be, indeed, DUIs.
The officer gestures to the end of a corridor and draws out a key. “Sorry about this. We only put her in here because she wanted to sleep,” she apologizes. “And she was getting hysterical.”
“It’s fine,” Andi reassures her. “Don’t worry.” But she suppresses a gasp at how serious this now feels, Emily behind bars.
“Your mom’s here,” the officer says. Emily, asleep on the bench, groans slightly before opening her eyes, but Andi, staring at Emily’s sleeping form, finds herself frozen in shock.
* * *
Emily, in all her goth glory, wears black flowing clothes, the looser the better. In recent months, she has put on weight, wrapping cardigans around her thickening girth, buying skirts with elasticized waists.
Andi does not say anything. Emily is not her daughter, it is not her place to say anything, and even if Emily were her daughter, she would not want to give her a complex about weight, would not dare say anything to Emily other than that she looks lovely, or her makeup is great, or she likes some new outfit.
Emily only criticizes, herself and others. “I’m so fat,” she’ll mutter. “I’m so ugly.” “I hate my thighs.”
Andi corrects her, telling her she’s womanly and pretty, but Emily just rolls her eyes and walks out.
But here, tonight on a bench at the back of a cell in the Mill Valley police station, Emily lies on her back, her body no longer hidden by swathes and drapes of clothing, her stomach sticking out proudly, Emily still half-asleep, unaware that Andi is transfixed by her stomach, her swollen breasts.
She’s not fat, Andi realizes, with mounting horror. She’s pregnant.
* * *
“Where’s Dad?” Emily wakes up and coldly stares through Andi.
“He’s at home with Sophia. I was already out, so I came to get you.”
“Great,” Emily mutters witheringly, shaking her head. “Just what I need.”
“Would you rather stay the night here?” Andi is in shock, and suddenly, instead of feeling frightened of Emily, as she so often does, she is angry. “Because I can leave. That’s fine.” And she turns to go.
“No.” Emily mutters. “I’ll come.”
“How about a thank-you?” Andi says as they walk down the corridor.
“Thank you,” Emily parrots, adding, almost under her breath, “It’s all about you.”
Andi stops. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” Emily carries on walking.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”
“Yes,” Emily says, dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the support.”
“You don’t get it, do you,” Andi says, unable to hold the frustration in any longer. “You have no idea how this is going to affect the rest of your life. College applications, jobs. If you are charged, this is going to be a problem forever.”
“I know!” Emily explodes. “I fucking know, okay, but I wasn’t driving. Get off my fucking back, all right? Jesus. I can’t believe my bitch of a stepmother comes down to get me when all I wanted was my dad. He couldn’t even do that for me. I get the one person in the world I fucking hate. Great.”
Andi feels anger rising as she looks at Emily’s sullen face. Don’t do it, she tells herself, but this anger, this raw rage isn’t something that can be contained. Andi does everything with Emily in mind, thinking constantly of what she can do to make Emily happy, and instead of a thank-you, instead of gratitude, she gets insults and criticism. All the time.
Andi has had enough.
“How dare you!” Andi finally, finally explodes. “How dare you always be so rude, so surly, so damned horrible. Your father does everything for you, and now, heaven forbid, he is staying with your younger sister, who doesn’t deserve the shit you put her through, the shit you put us all through all of the time. I have never in my life come across a girl as ungrateful and unpleasant as you. You’re a spoiled, entitled little brat, and don’t think I don’t know that you have your parents wrapped around your finger. Your mother’s too drunk to give a shit, and your father’s so terrified of upsetting you, of your throwing one of your tantrums, he’ll do whatever you want. But not any longer, young lady. Do you get it? Your father’s had enough. This has pushed him over the edge.”
“How dare you say anything about my mother,” Emily screams. “You’re not worth the ground she walks on. She’s an amazing, sweet person, and how dare you say she’s drunk. You’re the bitch, you’ve been a bitch since you walked in and stole my father. All you care about is him. You pretend to love Sophia, but I know you don’t. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. We were all happy before you ca
me into our lives, and I hate you more than I’ve hated anyone. You’re just this big fake. Oh, Emily, your hair looks so pretty,” she mimics. “That’s a cute skirt, is it new? You think I don’t know how fake you are, that you only say those things in front of my dad so he thinks you’re nice to me? You have ruined all of our lives.”
There is a long silence as they look at each other, and, as quickly as it appeared, Andi’s rage goes. The fight goes out of her as she stares at Emily, seeing her as a terrified little girl.
“No, Emily,” she says quietly, looking pointedly at Emily’s stomach. “You’re the one who has ruined her life. What are you? Three months pregnant? Four?” She looks back up to see a flicker of fear in Emily’s eyes.
“What are you talking about?” she says disdainfully, but there is fear in her voice.
“When was the last time you had a period, Emily?”
Emily’s eyes look upward for a second, and Andi suddenly realizes that Emily doesn’t know, is thinking about when her last period actually was. Perhaps, on some level, she suspected, but she doesn’t know, is thinking perhaps that if she buries her head in the sand deep enough and long enough, it will all go away.
The color drains from Emily’s face. “I’m not pregnant,” she says.
“Wishing it were so doesn’t make it so.” Andi sighs. “So when was your last period?”
“I’m not fucking pregnant, okay?” Emily yells, and runs out of the room, slamming the door.
* * *
They drive home in silence, Emily hunched up in the passenger seat, her sweater tightly drawn around her, arms crossed to hide her stomach.
Andi silently berates herself all the way home. How could she not have seen? How did she not realize? She thought it was puppy fat, teenage weight, the freshman fifteen a little earlier than planned. And the throwing up. Now it makes sense. Those times she thought she heard Emily throwing up, putting it down to drugs, or alcohol, she now realizes were due to morning sickness.
And the drugs! The alcohol! What about fetal alcohol syndrome? Andi thinks of the way Emily has abused her body these last few months, the way Andi suspects she has abused her body, and shivers with horror.
There is termination, she tells herself, mentally calculating in her head. What choice does she have, a seventeen-year-old who has been drinking and doing God knows what drugs during a pregnancy. She will have to terminate.
And then, What if I am wrong? What if I have jumped to terrible conclusions? Please, God, she prays silently, glancing at Emily out of the corner of her eye. Please, God, for Emily’s sake, for all of our sakes, let me be wrong.
Fourteen
“What the hell’s going on?” Ethan looks first at Emily, then at Andi, seeing an expression in her eyes he has never seen before.
“Are you going to tell him?” Andi’s voice is calm and quiet. She looks at Emily as Emily howls and smashes her hand into the wall.
“Shut up!” she screams. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I hate you.”
Ethan’s eyes widen in shock. He expected a tearful, contrite Emily, not this bundle of rage, and this insane accusation.
“Emily, stop.” He tries to grab her arm, but she tears away from him and starts pulling her own hair, shrieking all the while, “Shut up! I hate you! I hate you!”
“Emily?” Ethan’s pain is obvious, seeing his daughter in a place he can’t reach, and he turns to Andi with fury in his eyes.
“What the hell have you done? What has happened to my daughter? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Andi is too tired to take umbrage. She’s too tired to be offended. She’s had enough.
“Ethan,” she says quietly. “Look at her. Look at her stomach.”
Emily turns to the wall, screaming, “No!” so he can’t see.
“What? What are you saying?” He is stricken as he pulls Emily around to face him, his eyes dropping. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Emily? You’re pregnant?”
“Leave me alone.” Emily tears herself away, spitting like a trapped cat. “Shut up!” Emily continues screaming. “I hate you! I hate you!”
“Emily!” Ethan roars. “Stop! Are you pregnant?”
Emily, with a howl of pain, runs up the stairs, into the bathroom, and slams the door, locking it firmly, where she continues to scream and bang her head against the tiles.
Andi stands, shaking, the shock threatening tears for her, a gulf as wide as Mexico now between her and Ethan.
“Do you have a pregnancy test?” he says finally. Quietly.
Andi nods, and wordlessly she goes up to her bathroom, each step feeling as if she is treading on cotton candy, her whole body woolly and trembling from the force of Emily’s rage and fear.
Ethan is waiting outside the bedroom when she comes out and hands it to him silently. She hears him go down the corridor. More screaming, more sobbing, and finally, a brief lull of silence before the wailing starts again.
An hour goes by. Two. Suddenly, Andi hears footsteps down the hall, and Ethan appears, exhaustion pulling him down, making him seem ten years older than he is.
“Is…?” She looks at him expectantly.
Ethan sits down on the bed, looks at her, nods.
Then he bursts into tears.
Fifteen
Ethan’s body heaves, the only sound being occasional gasps of air as Andi sits wearily beside him, laying a hand on his back, rubbing in small, gentle circles, finding her own eyes filling with tears that spill down her cheeks.
She has never seen him cry before, had not expected to cry herself, but she is crying for different reasons.
Andi sits, silent. Terrified that if she opens her mouth to speak, it will open the floodgates for her to sob next to him, and if she starts, she is not sure she can stop. She wants to put her arms around him, pull him in close, comfort him, but … but … she cannot do more than this right now, rubbing her hand on his back as the sadness pulls her deep, deep down.
She is not done. Not yet. But close. This is too much for her: the drama, the screaming, the hatred and rage that fly around this house, that fill her with dread each time she comes home.
She doesn’t want to think about how she will leave, when she will leave, but listening to Ethan cry, Andi is overcome with exhaustion and numbness. She wants to sleep. Forever. She wants to be in a small, cozy bed, in a quiet apartment, with a cat.
She wants a life that is peaceful. Happy. Simple.
There were such high expectations with Ethan, expectations that haven’t been fulfilled; some of that is okay. She is trying to deal with the fact that they cannot have children of their own, trying to deal with not being a mother herself, but she cannot deal with the daily fact of being hated; cannot deal with the fear that descends upon her every time she pulls into her own driveway—what will Emily’s mood be today, what is waiting for her on the other side of the front door.
Ethan, so accustomed to Emily’s tantrums, cannot understand how they undo Andi, who cannot do this for very much longer. That is the only thing of which she is certain, the thing that is now weighing her down on the bed, forcing her eyes closed with sadness and grief.
She isn’t leaving tonight. Nor tomorrow. She needs to figure it out in daylight, when the night terrors aren’t overwhelming, when everything seems more manageable. It is weeks, she thinks, not months. A few weeks.
If she can last that long.
Finally, she leans her head on Ethan’s shoulder, closes her eyes, and allows the tears to fall.
* * *
The next morning, Andi manages to avoid almost everyone. Ethan kisses her good-bye, early, as she wonders if he feels the same emptiness. There is a gulf of sadness between them. She assumes he must have a sense of what she is feeling, but they don’t speak other than to make arrangements for Emily.
She and Emily will meet him at her OB/GYN later today. She has not yet made an appointment but, given the circumstances, they will get in.
Ethan calls to Sophia, asking her where she wa
nts to go for breakfast, and Andi hears Sophia’s light footsteps approaching their bedroom. Father and daughter stand in the hallway just outside the bedroom as Andi puts down her makeup brush to listen.
“What’s the matter with everyone?” whispers Sophia.
“What do you mean?” Ethan is trying to make his voice as normal as possible. It doesn’t sound normal. It sounds strained and false.
“There’s a very weird atmosphere in the house. It feels like something has changed.”
“Nothing has changed.” Ethan forces a laugh, but Andi knows he feels it, too. She hears Ethan usher Sophia downstairs, then, from down the hall, Sophia saying, “Wait! I’ll be just a minute.”
Her footsteps run back to the bedroom and into the bathroom, where she flings her arms around Andi.
“I love you!” she whispers into her ear, clasping her tight.
“I know, sweetie.” Andi blinks back the sudden tears, wondering why Sophia is choosing to say it now. She used to say it to Andi all the time, but since becoming a teenager, while still surprisingly affectionate, she no longer says the words themselves.
“I just wanted you to hear.” Sophia looks her in the eye, then picks up her backpack again and runs down the stairs to her father, waiting in the car, leaving Andi in the house, saddened that Sophia must sense that something is wrong. Why else would she offer those words now?
* * *
It will be hours before Emily wakes up. She sleeps until lunchtime every day, leaving Andi to enjoy the peace, the only time Andi feels relaxed in her house. She showers, dresses, grabs an apple and a Clif Bar from the pantry, then heads out to her studio, making calls in the car, shouting into the Bluetooth speakerphone that muffles everyone and has never worked properly.
Her phone buzzes as she steps out the car. A text. Deanna.
“How’s Emily? Are YOU okay?”
Andi pauses. Normally she would text back, but today she needs a friend. Today she needs Deanna. She dials and then holds the phone to her ear.
“Want to come to the studio for coffee?”