Page 133 of Bend
“That you’re useless.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re sensitive. You’re bright. You’re brave. Can you believe that?”
He pissed me off. He had no right to tell me about me, not after three days. But if I argued with him, if I put him in his place, it would be another reason to let me rot in that grey room.
“Thanks, Doc.”
He stood and opened the door. “I want you to remember that when you see your mother. She’s in visiting.”
fifteen.
Margie caught me in the foyer, on the way to the visiting room.
“Have you seen Mom?” I asked.
“I have no idea what she’s doing here. I told her to stay home. Jonathan’s a wreck over his girlfriend, and Theresa’s no better. They’re mad at Dad, but won’t say why, which is fucking typical Drazen bullshit. You sure you don’t want to stay in here?”
“I’m sure.”
“Between you and Jonathan, the press is going apeshit.”
“Fuck them.”
“I wish I could get myself committed. “ Her phone dinged, and she tapped it. “Hang on, this came from the prosecutor.” She scanned the email. “Provided you’re cleared to leave here, you agree not to contest the charge and waive the preliminary hearing. We accept aggravated assault. Community service. I’m inclined to tell him to fuck off. Deacon’s denying it all, so bail and a grand jury appearance is my guess.”
“What does the press want?”
“They want you turning on a spit.”
“Take the plea.”
“As your attorney, I wouldn’t advise it.”
I shrugged. “I’d rather not have this over my head. Or have Deacon change his mind after I see him and beg forgiveness. Just take it and be done. A little community service won’t kill me.”
“As your sister, I approve.”
I sneered at her playfully, and she hid her smile.
***
The garland and lights were gone from the visiting room, as if Christmas had been mentioned once and wiped away. Mom paced in front of the window, a wisp of a thing with a bent neck, tapping her finger on her chin.
“Hi, Mom.”
When she faced me, I knew she wasn’t there to join me for the therapist’s recommendation. Her eyes were on fire, her jaw set. She sat down like it was her job.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“How are you?”
“I’m f—”
“Did your father ever touch you?”
“Mom!”
