Once the nurse was gone, Sandy kept on standing there for a while with her arms crossed, watching Jenna sleep. Eventually, she did rest on the hard chair a few feet from Jenna’s bed, the whole time trying to figure out how the hell she could have ever thought, even for a second, that she might be better off without her. After a while, Sandy let herself relax a little, sinking lower in the chair as the minutes became hours, and the hours stretched on toward dawn.
“Hey, there,” Jenna said when Sandy woke up. “You’ve been out like a light in that chair for I don’t know how long. They kept coming in and offering to wake you, but I told them to leave you the hell alone.” Jenna half smiled with her bandaged mouth. “I like watching my girl sleep. Reminds me of when you were little.”
The sun was up, streaming in through the curtains. Jenna looked pale and tired but much better than she had the night before. Makeup-less and with her hair pulled back, she looked like a totally different person. A little older, but more beautiful, too.
“Are you okay?” Sandy got up and stepped closer to the bed. “Does your leg hurt?”
Jenna smiled and shook her head, squeezing Sandy’s hand. “They have me hopped up on so much shit, I feel better than I have in years.”
“That’s good.” Sandy smiled, but she felt her mouth pulling hard the other way. She didn’t want to cry. She hadn’t cried in front of Jenna since she was— She couldn’t remember the last time. And if someone was going to cry, it should be Jenna. She was the one who’d been in the accident. “What the hell happened?”
Jenna shook her head with a quivery smile. “The last thing I remember real clearly is going in to work. I was drying glasses by myself behind the bar, watching Judge Judy rip in to some prick with this ugly-ass barking dog, and you know how much I love when she does that.”
Only Jenna.
“Yeah, I do,” Sandy said, smiling. “But nothing else?”
“I’ve got some flashes of being in the car after the accident. My fucking leg was on fire, and I was so goddamn thirsty. That and the fucking quiet. You know how I hate that shit. Can you imagine me with all that time on my hands, all by myself, just to think?” As Jenna shrugged, tears filled her eyes. “I do remember hearing my phone ringing and ringing, up until the battery kicked. And I knew it was you. I swear, you calling was what made me hold on.”
“You really don’t know how the accident happened?”
Jenna frowned, shook her head. “I was definitely fucking sober by the time they found me. But before that, who knows?”
“The Palisades Parkway?”
She shrugged. “Buying drugs, I guess. I know a guy who sort of lives out that way. But not really. I got to be honest, I don’t have a clue.”
“So you don’t remember some woman you were talking to before you left work? Laurie said she had blond hair.”
“A woman?” Jenna looked as confused as Sandy had been. “Nah. But like I said, I don’t remember anything after Judy.”
Sandy was trying to stay focused on Jenna being back, but it was hard not to let her mind wander. Because even with Jenna found, there were plenty of other things to worry about—no place to live, no emergency fund. And now Jenna wouldn’t be able to work, and there would be medical bills. Jenna had insurance at Blondie’s, but only if they stayed in Ridgedale. Sandy wasn’t sure if the coast was clear for her after what had happened to Hannah. To say they were screwed was a fucking understatement. But then they’d always lived on the razor’s edge. And so far they’d managed to survive.
“Can you come here?” Jenna patted the bed next to her. “Closer.”
Sandy pushed herself up onto the bed, which was a shitload stiffer than it looked. Jenna reached forward and tucked Sandy’s hair behind her ear, staring at her the whole time, like she was drinking Sandy in, filling up on her. “You know, when you were a real little girl, you were so afraid of the dark. I mean blind-ass terrified.”
“Was not.” But how would Sandy know? There was a reason she’d blocked out so much of her childhood. Jenna wasn’t easy to live with now; for a little kid, she had been kind of a nightmare.
“I know, you’re not afraid of anything anymore. But you’d cry yourself to sleep every night lying there. I told you a million times that you could leave the light on. You know me, why beat something when you can wriggle around it. But you were like ‘Fuck, no.’ Only five or something, and within weeks you’d cured yourself.” Jenna’s voice was breaking apart, her face melting. “You are so much stronger than I ever was, Sandy. Than I’ll ever be.”
Sandy rolled her eyes.
“I mean it, baby.” Jenna’s voice was serious. “There is so much in this world you could do. Anything you want. That’s why I need you to do something for me, Sandy. But you have to promise you’ll do it. Even if you don’t want to.”
That did not sound good. Not at all like something Sandy wanted to agree to. God fucking knew what Jenna was going to ask—buy her drugs, sell her extra pain pills, steal some hospital toilet paper.
Sandy shook her head. “Um, yeah, I don’t think—”
“Sandy!” Jenna shouted. “I’m serious.”
“Okay, okay,” Sandy said, raising her hands. She could always pretend she’d done whatever Jenna asked.
“There’s an envelope in there that belongs to you.” Jenna pointed toward a hospital-issue plastic bag sitting on the little table near the windows. “All of it’s in there. I counted. It’s not worth saying, but I am more sorry about taking that money than I’ve ever been for anything in my entire life. I’d like to say I changed my mind before the accident. That I realized that only an asshole would spend her kid’s money getting high. But let’s face it, you and I both know that’s probably a lie.”
Sandy pulled out the envelope, and sure enough, there were all her twenties. Thank fucking Jesus. Finally, something breaking in their favor. Enough for food while Jenna was in the hospital and at least a week in some shithole motel after she got out. In the meantime, the hospital would probably let Sandy sleep in the room, and if they didn’t, she could go back to Molly’s.