And at three a.m., when that same old insomnia crept back, Maya wondered if her mom, the one who was in rehab, missed her the same way that Grace missed her baby.
She had seen pictures of the rehab place online. It seemed nice, if a little sparse. It advertised sunshine and palm trees and recovery, but Maya thought that behind all the perks, it just looked lonely. She hated to think of her mom being lonely, or afraid, or sad, and at the same time, she was so mad at her. On the one hand, it was her mom’s own stupid fault for even being in rehab in the first place. If she really loved Maya and Lauren like she said she did, she would have stopped drinking a long time ago. She would have changed for them.
But on the other hand, Maya knew that the problem was bigger and more complicated than that, and it scared her that she didn’t know how to figure it out.
On Wednesday night at dinner (homemade meal again; her dad was really pulling it together), Maya’s dad cleared his throat and said, “So. Mom can have visitors this weekend.”
Maya’s fork froze halfway to her mouth, sauce dripping off the spaghetti and back into the bowl.
“It’s Family Weekend this Saturday at the center,” he said. He never said addiction recovery or rehab. It was always the center, like their mother had spent the two weeks at a YMCA doing water aerobics.
“I know she’d really like it if both of you were there,” Maya’s dad continued. “I’m going to go, and I’d like it if you came, too, but it’s your decision.”
“I’m totally going,” Lauren said. Maya wasn’t surprised. Lauren had always had a soft spot for their mom. The week before, Maya had spotted her standing in their parents’ closet, sniffing one of their mom’s blouses. Maya had snuck away before Lauren could see her, but it had made her feel funny and sad for the rest of the day.
She wished she had never seen her sister look so vulnerable. It made her want to zip Lauren into her hoodie and hide her away from the rest of the world.
“Maya?” her dad asked. “No pressure, of course.”
Maya raised an eyebrow. “Really? No pressure?”
Her dad just shrugged and stabbed (there really wasn’t a better word for it, Maya thought as she watched his fork) at his salad. “No pressure,” he repeated. “If you want to go, we’d love to have you. But if you still need more time, I understand. And Mom will understand, too.” His eyes were gentle as he looked over at Maya, then reached over and patted her hand. “I know it’s intense, sweetie.”
Maya just nodded. Dad, she thought to herself, you have no idea.
She had absolutely zero intentions of going out to her mom’s rehab center, not when she had possibly life-altering plans with Grace and Joaquin.
Maya also had zero intentions of telling her dad about said life-altering plans. She knew he would squash them immediately, or insist on going with her, or sending a letter first before going to the house, and Maya wasn’t interested in any of those options.
She had no idea if Grace or Joaquin would tell their parents or . . . whatever it was that Mark and Linda were. Maya could understand why Joaquin had said no to the adoption. The story about Natalie had been frightening, but the idea of Joaquin being yanked out of his home, of being hospitalized, of hurting—it was almost too much to bear. It made her teeth ache when she thought about it, so she tried not to think about it too often.
Lauren knocked on her door that night after dinner, then came in without waiting for Maya to respond. “Are you seriously not going this weekend?” Lauren said, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Um, why do you even knock if you’re just going to barge in anyhow?” Maya said, folding another shirt from her clean laundry pile. “How do you know I’m not dancing around naked in here?”
“You’re not, so it’s a moot point.”
“PSAT word?”
Lauren ignored her. “You’re really going to make me go alone with Dad this weekend?”
Maya wanted to tell her so, so bad. She knew Lauren felt left out, that she was worried about the two new people in Maya’s life, but there was no way in the world that Maya was going to tell Lauren anything about the envelope, the address, the upcoming trip. She was at least 90 percent sure that Lauren would tell their dad about it, and even if she didn’t, Maya would never have asked her to keep such a big secret.
So instead she just said, “Yep. Road trip with Dad, how fun! Maybe he’ll get you a slushie from 7-Eleven.”
“Slurpees are from 7-Eleven!” Lauren corrected her. “Not slushies!”
“You pick the strangest things to get upset about sometimes, Laur.”
“Well, okay, how about this, then? I’m upset that my big sister isn’t going with me to see our mom for the first time since we found her bleeding to death on the floor.”
Maya sighed, setting down her shirt. “I just need more time, okay? You go see her if you want, but I’m not ready.”
“Are you mad at her?”
“Yes,” Maya said. “I’m mad at her for picking wine over us. I’m mad that she got so drunk she fell down and let you find her like that. I’m mad that she left us here to answer everyone else’s questions. We are literally cleaning up her mess, Lauren. So yeah, I’m mad.” Maya picked up another shirt and started folding it with way more intensity than necessary.
Lauren just stood in the doorway, watching her. “Well, don’t you want to say that to her?”
Maya wanted to say and do a million things to her mom. She wanted to scream at her, shake her, ignore her forever, crawl into her lap and cry.
“I’ll say what I want to say to her when I want to say it to her,” Maya replied. “And not before.”
“Dad says that we need to start going to a family therapist.”
Maya raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “Dad’s just getting that now? Because I could have told you that five years ago.”
“My,” Lauren said, and she looked up this time. “Don’t make me go by myself. Please.”
“You’re not going by yourself. You’re going with Dad, remember? Slurpees!”
“You know what I mean. Please, Maya. You promised you wouldn’t leave me behind.”
Maya walked over to her, putting her hands on Lauren’s shoulders. “Laur,” she said. “I promise I’m not leaving you behind. We’re just on different paths right now. They’ll meet at the end, okay? I promise,” she added again when Lauren looked unconvinced. “I’ll see Mom when I’m ready. If you’re ready, though, you should go now.”
Lauren sighed heavily. “Fine,” she said, then flounced out of the room. “Betray me, that’s fine!”
“Okay!” Maya said. “Good talk, Laur!”
The only response from Lauren was a slammed door.
By Friday night, Maya thought she would burst.
The problem with keeping secrets, she was starting to realize, was that they were too big to carry by yourself. When the girls had been little, Lauren had always been her secret keeper, but they weren’t little anymore.
There was only one person she wanted to tell, Maya realized on Friday night, after everyone else had gone to bed and the house sounded louder and emptier than it did during the day. Only one person would truly understand.
She reached for her phone and texted Claire.