But when the police delved farther, they backed off. First they promised to continue searching, even after they brought Faith’s rap sheet. Grace knew better. They weren't looking for her sister. As far as they were concerned, Faith would find them. They told her so behind her grandmother's back.
"Look, we'll probably pick her up in Pioneer Square or down near the waterfront." The female detective was kind, but she didn't bother to mince words. "Do you know if she was using again?"
"I think so," Grace admitted softly.
"This isn't your fault. She has to be the one to get help. You can’t force her to get clean.” She disappeared on that note. It was the last time the police came by with news regarding her sister. People love to say things like no news is good news, but they're the ones who don't want to admit that no news twists your insides until you’re seeing shadows. Grace's own reflection made her jump. She was a none-too-subtle reminder that Faith was gone both to herself and Nana.
Maybe that's why her grandmother's mind began to go. She lost herself searching for someone else. How many other mothers had suffered the same fate?
At first it went gradually. Little things would slip her mind. She would leave her keys in the door or forget she wasn't wearing her glasses. She might go to the store for milk and come back with bread. Grace tried to write it off at first. Then it became big things.
A birthday. Where she lived. Her own name. She slipped away like sand with the outgoing tide—tiny fragments at a time—until her mind was smooth and new. Little bits would come back in with the waves, fragments of the life she had before. On those days she wouldn’t scream at Grace when she came home and threaten to call the police. On those days she remembered she was her granddaughter. And she remembered Faith. It never lasted long. The disease would take her away again by morning. Or maybe it was the pain she discovered each time she found herself in her own skin. On those days she would cry softly in her room. She would ask Grace what had happened during the week, and Grace would tell her nothing much, not bothering to mention it had actually been a month.
And then Grace would find herself alone again, caring for a woman who stared at her with paranoia most hours. She finally gave up and put her in a home out on the Kitsap Peninsula. A place she could afford and not much more than a ferry ride away. She visited every weekend at first. Nana would stare at her and then finally smile.
“Faith, you came to see me. Sit down, darling girl and tell me how school is.”
And Grace wouldn’t correct her. If she had forgotten her, at least she remembered Faith. She had forgotten the heartache, which was more than Grace could ever hope to do.
Chapter 12
You can’t reach someone who doesn’t want to be reached. Jude’s reaction at group reminded me of that. It’s one of the first truths any support group teaches you.
Cancer support group? A patient isn’t going to make it if they won’t try.
Gambling addiction? You can’t keep him away from a casino if he wants to be there. Sometimes you can’t even if he doesn’t.
Al-Anon? The one for friends and family of addicts? Stop trying! They batter you over the head with this fact.
Because trying to fix someone is a surefire way to break yourself. No, the real trick is to stay strong until the person realizes it’s up to themselves. It’s not something you want to believe if you care about an addict. When you love someone, you want to help them, take care of them, support them. That’s why co-dependency is so dangerous. I’ve seen it firsthand, which is why I couldn’t side blindly with Jude.
I understand the urge to drag someone in for help. Or away from the bottle. Or the needle. Or whatever form they’ve chosen for their destruction.
I also know it won’t change anything.
But my skepticism doesn’t make it any easier to stay away from Jude. I tell myself I can’t risk being involved with a man who doesn’t have a handle on the realities of addiction, because it may mean he doesn’t have a grip on his own sobriety. “Maybe we needed a little distance. Things were moving too fast.”
“You went on one date.” Amie doesn’t bother to look up from the carrots she’s chopping to prep for tonight’s dinner rush. “You’ll be ready for a second one by the time you’re fifty at this rate.”
“Do you think I want to ignore him?” In the past few days I’d refused his calls. He’d even taken to calling The World’s End to order carry-out, so now I couldn’t answer the phone here either. “I’m not certain I can handle Jude, but I feel trapped when I’m not with him. I feel like a prisoner.”
“Then might I suggest you break out for a conjugal visit?”
More than a few of the line cooks are eavesdropping at this point.
I lower my voice, but it’s no use in the cramped kitchen. “Didn’t you just point out that we went on one date?”