“My husband’s out of town. She’s supposed to be at her mom’s,” Carla continued, referencing Lauren, who had disappeared into the depths of the apartment. “She’s grounded. For pot. But her mom never follows through.”
Jeff pursed his lips, nodded. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.
“We all partied at their age. We all tried things. But Monique refuses to set any boundaries and Darren travels so much. . . .” Monique and Darren had to be Lauren’s divorced parents. “I can’t do anything. If I say one word, I’m the evil stepmother.”
“I should really go.”
“Of course. I’ll check on Ronni tomorrow. Lisa and I are friendly.”
As Jeff rode down the elevator, he breathed a sigh of relief: mission accomplished. Lauren was clearly a troublemaker. Wealthy, divorced parents gave a kid the motive and means to rebel. But all the parents had been perfectly reasonable: concerned but not losing their shit, not pointing fingers or blaming.
Of course, he still had to face Lisa.
THE TESLA’S TIRES squealed on the concrete of the parking garage as Jeff searched for a spot. The lot was packed, and the few available spaces had RESERVED signs on them. He could feel his palms on the wheel getting sweaty. The air in the concrete bunker was heavy and close. If he didn’t find a free spot soon, he was going to park in some doctor’s space. Fuck ’em.
A “compact car” spot materialized and he jammed the Tesla into it. Thankfully, he was slim enough to squeeze through the narrow space the SUV next to him afforded. He scanned the dank lot for an elevator or a stairwell. Found it. He jogged down the stairs and across the street, into the hospital’s main lobby. An elderly volunteer with a bouffant hairdo pointed him toward the pediatric ER. Traversing a labyrinth of hallways, he finally reached the waiting area.
He hurried to the reception desk. “I’m looking for my wife and daughter. They came in with—” He stopped, midsentence. Down the hall to his right, he saw Kim. She was talking to two uniformed police officers. Jesus Christ . . .
“We have very strict rules in our house,” she was saying as Jeff approached. Kim paused when she saw him. “This is my husband, Jeff Sanders.”
The officers, one male, one female, introduced themselves, but Jeff didn’t retain their names. He turned to Kim. “How’s Ronni?”
Kim’s voice wavered. “She needs surgery on her eye.”
“Is Lisa here?”
Kim nodded.
The male officer interrupted. “We’re trying to piece together the events of the night.”
“Of course,” Jeff said. “We specifically told the girls no alcohol or drugs. They must have sneaked it in. I don’t know how they got it.”
“Do you have liquor in the house?” the female officer asked.
“Some. A little.”
“A normal amount, I think,” Kim added. “We’re social drinkers. Maybe a glass of wine with dinner. But never to excess.”
“What about your daughter? Has she been caught drinking before?”
“Never.” Kim was emphatic. “That’s why we’re so shocked. Hannah is an excellent student. She plays basketball and Royal Conservatory piano. This is completely out of character for her.”
“You’d be surprised . . . ,” the male officer muttered. Kim’s eyes narrowed, a look Jeff knew well. She wanted to rip this guy a new one, tell him that her precious daughter was not a boozer, a partier, or a rebel. Hannah had been parented properly. Didn’t he hear her? Hannah played piano and basketball. She was on the honor roll.
“Kids . . .” Jeff chuckled softly to deflect from his wife’s contained ire. “But we had no idea what was going on, so we’re obviously not culpable.” It was phrased as a statement, but the underlying question was clear.
The female officer responded. “We’ll need to come by your house tomorrow. Don’t clean up or touch anything at the scene.”
“It’s procedure,” the other officer added. “I don’t think you need to be concerned.”
“I would hope not,” Kim said. God. She sounded like a self-righteous jerk.
“Thank you, officers,” Jeff covered. “Feel free to come by anytime.”
“We will.” And with that, they left.
hannah
THE NEXT DAY
Soft morning light peaked its way through heavy eyelids and Hannah enjoyed a few seconds of normalcy before the events of last night tumbled into her consciousness. Oh God . . . She jumped out of bed without hesitation and threw on some clothes. She’d showered when they got home from the hospital, dried blood and the stink of puke swirling away down the drain. A quick hairbrush and deodorant would have to do today. Before she left her room, she texted Lauren.
OMFG.
The response was instantaneous: Fuuuuuck
Hannah wrote: Going 2 c Ronni. Want to come?
Can’t. Grounded. Again.
Lauren seemed to be perpetually grounded, not that it curtailed her social life at all. She was an expert at playing her divorced parents off each other. Hannah almost envied Lauren’s situation. She didn’t want her parents to split up, necessarily, but it wasn’t like they actually liked each other. And kids from broken homes had so much more freedom. And then there was the guilt factor. Lauren’s dad was always buying her expensive clothes and jewelry to compensate for his lack of engagement. Hannah’s own parents could never be accused of that. Damn.
Her mom and dad were sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee and not speaking. “I need to go to the hospital,” Hannah announced. “I need to see Ronni.”
Her parents exchanged a quick look before her mom spoke. “I think Ronni’s family would appreciate some alone time today.”
“She doesn’t have a family. She has a mom. We should be there to support them.”
Her dad cleared his throat. “It’s a bit tricky right now. . . .”
“What do you mean tricky?”
Her mom took this one. “Ronni was hurt in our house. She was drinking and taking drugs. In our house.”
“That’s all the more reason we should be there for her!”
Her parents glanced at each other again. Suddenly, they seemed to have become some sort of team. “Why don’t you sit down?” her dad said.
“No. I’m going to the hospital.”
“Sit!” her mom barked. “You’re in no position to be insolent.” Hannah rolled her eyes but lowered herself onto a barstool like an obedient puppy. Her mom continued. “We have a lot to talk about . . . starting with your actions last night. You’re old enough to know that behaviors have consequences. We’d like to discuss those consequences with you.”
Hannah shot her mother a look of pure, teenaged hatred. “Can you drop the perfect-mom act for, like, five seconds? My best friend is hurt.”
Her mom’s only response was a wounded look. Hannah had been surly and snappish before—what teenager hadn’t? But she’d never gone for the jugular, never dared attack her mom’s soft underbelly. Hannah glanced at her dad. She thought she saw a glimmer of something on his face: admiration. He quickly swept it away.
Kim’s voice was raw. “Lisa is very upset about Ronni. She’s angry. At us.”
“The police will be coming by the house this afternoon,” her dad added. “They’re doing an investigation. To make sure we’re not at fault.”