“You coming?” Maeve asks, as I continue to stand here and stare.
“Uh-huh,” I say, finally looking away from the ocean and following her up the path that leads into the house.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
NATALIE
Iblink, trying to decide if I’m awake or not. Nothing changes. I’m surrounded by darkness still.
My hand drapes over my eyes as I try to fall back asleep. I got home late from Madeline’s. If it’s still dark out, I couldn’t have slept for more than a couple of hours.
A faint buzz answers theWhy did I wake up?question. I fumble for my phone, which I usually charge next to my bed. I encounter the cord, but no phone. I keep feeling around, stretching my torso until I feel the jean jacket and crossbody bag I dropped on the floor before crawling into bed.
Finally, my fingers hit smooth glass. I reach a little farther—and end up in a tangled mess of sheets on the floor.
“Shit,” I grumble, rubbing my hip, which took the brunt of the impact.
It takes a few minutes to slip out of the cotton sheets. I sit on my floor, exhausted and half-awake. More buzzing eventually moves me. I pull my phone out of the purse and answer the incoming call from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I croak. My voice sounds like it belongs to a seventy-year-old chain smoker.
“Is this Natalie Jacobs?” an unfamiliar woman’s voice replies.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“My name is Dr. Brown. I’m calling about your mother, Lindsay Jacobs.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’ll be fine. She was in an accident, but your mother was very lucky. Her car hit a telephone pole, but she was driving slowly. She only sustained a couple of minor injuries. Her blood alcohol level was extremely high. If the accident had involved another car, we would be having a very different conversation.”
“I understand,” I whisper.
“You’re listed as her emergency contact. She’s close to being discharged. Are you able to come pick her up?”
“I—yes, I can be there soon. Lady of Grace, right?”
“That’s right. We’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.” I let the phone drop into the twisted tangle of my sheets.
I wish I were surprised. This is the first time I’ve gotten a call from a hospital, but I know it’s been a possibility every time I see my mother’s car is missing. I wonder if the police are pressing charges. If my father will find some way to sweep this under the rug as well.
She listed me as her emergency contact—not him. I’m not sure if it’s because she didn’t want him to know if something like this happened or because she didn’t think he would come if it did. I have no idea where my dad is right now.
I pick my phone up again and tap his name in my contacts.
It rings and rings with no answer.
I tap it again.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
I start crying at some point. I only realize when I taste the salt. When I feel the moisture on my lips. I swipe at them angrily.