CHAPTER 27

Mom

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I WATCH THE ENTRANCE of the school with impatient intensity, waiting for Ruth as my emergency blinkers tick on and off. Worry sits like a sunken rock in my chest, but I’m calmer now. I roll down the window, even though it’s cold out and breathe in the cool fresh air. I could have done this on my own, I think. I shouldn’t have called her.

As soon as I see Ruth, dashing toward the car in her new dress, I want to take it back. What kind of a mother leans on her children like I do? But it’s such a comfort to see her.

“Hey,” she says, breathing hard as she opens the door. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I can hear the guilt in my own voice. “I’m sorry I freaked out and called you. You should stay. I can go get her. I don’t need you to come.”

“Are you kidding?” She shuts herself inside the car as her dark eyebrows sink. “No way. I’m not going to stay and dance while Lucy’s in jail, Mom. Let’s go.”

I drive away without fighting her on it. As much as I’m ashamed to admit it, I need her, even if that makes me weak.

Once I park, the two of us speed walk in equal strides. Now that I’m here, I’m afraid of what’s coming next. The clear glass doors of the police station are alight, glowing against the night. An officer sits at a high counter and behind him I see my daughter in a cell.

“Lucy,” I call to her, hoping to pacify her fears or maybe my own.

She doesn’t look up, and I can’t tell if it’s her shame or pride that puts a wall between us. But her refusal to acknowledge me doesn’t lessen my need to save her.

“That’s my daughter,” I say to the officer, really seeing him for the first time. He’s my age and slightly overweight in his midsection but not in his face. His short brown hair has greyed on the sides, and he has strange eyes, so light brown they’re almost yellow like a coyote, though they are searching and kind. “Can she come home? What happened?”

Ruth stays close but quiet, staring into the cell with tight angry lips. I put a hand on her arm to settle her, feeling protective and defensive about Lucy’s situation. Whatever the reason she’s here, it’s not her fault.

“Can you come with me to my office, Ms. Wilcox?” the officer asks, running a hand over his stubbly cleft chin.

“It’s Rachel,” I say. I’m keeping my husband’s last name for the kids, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

I follow him into a room with open windows and a large desk. We sit on opposite sides of it, facing each other.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rachel,” he says. “I know you’re probably pretty upset, but everything’s okay. She’s fine. She was out after curfew with a gang of kids from FTC. We pulled her in on suspicion of tagging. Since she’s a minor we needed you to come pick her up.” He clears his throat. “I uh...wanted to tell you something about your girl out there. She’s a good girl. I can tell.” He smiles at me, and we share a moment of understanding. She’s not a bad kid. “We had a long talk and she agrees that she just got caught up with the wrong crowd. She wants to do better, but she told me she feels neglected at home. Apparently you’re gone a lot?”

“Yes, but I’m in school and—”

“Can I give you some advice?” His voice is gentle as he leans forward in his chair, but I can’t help but feel a little wounded by yet another man telling me how wrong I am. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m a terrible mother. “Lucy told me you recently divorced and moved here. She feels like she’s lost you. If you don’t want to lose your daughter, I think it would be best if you concentrate on giving her the attention she needs. She’s a good kid, and she’s crying out to you.”

“She’s blaming me?” I don’t believe what he’s saying. I’d done everything, risked everything because she’d asked me to. I don’t wait for him to answer. “Thank you for your advice officer. I just want to take her home.”

“She’s free to go. No charges have been filed. Let me get her for you. Follow me.”

As we approach the cell, Lucy finally acknowledges my presence in front of the officer. She stands and rushes to the door. “Hi Mom.” Her eyes brim with tears that don’t fall. “Sorry.”

My heart softens as I wrap her in a hug, even though she pulls away almost immediately.

I fill out some paperwork while the girls wait in volatile silence.

“Thank you, Officer...” I search his nametag for a title.

“Mendoza,” he finishes for me.

“Thank you, Officer Mendoza,” I say, handing him the clipboard.

I walk out of the station exhausted. It’s been a long night, and I can finally shed the binding ropes of emotional tension. The three of us make our way to the car, hiking the ramp of the parking garage.

“You okay?” I ask Lucy, reaching out for her shoulder. She shrugs away.

“I’m fine.” Her voice is a quiet mix of shame and defiance.

“What happened?” Ruth pushes, and I can tell by her sharp tone she’s trying to judge the amount of blame to dole out.

“None of your business,” Lucy says in a calm matter-of-fact way.

Ruth’s eyebrows shoot up. “None of my business? Do you—”

“Come on girls,” I plead. “She’s sorry, Ruth. Just let it—”

“I’m not sorry,” Lucy cuts in.

I stop, paused in the middle of the cement drive. “But you said you were. In the station. You—”

“In front of him. Yeah. So he’d let me go.” Lucy keeps walking and I speed walk to catch up. “I didn’t mean it. Fuck him. Fuck the cops.”

“What?” Ruth snaps at her.

“Fuck you too, Ruth. Maybe you should have just left me there if it was such a big deal to come get me.”

“Lucy! Stop it! That’s enough for one night!” I yell.

“This is so ridiculous,” Ruth mutters to herself. “Why do you let her hang out with those people?”

“Ruth,” I hiss through gritted teeth, but she’s right, and maybe Mendoza is too. This can’t continue. Whoever these kids are, they’re a bad influence, and if I have to be there to pick her up from school every day, that’s what I’ll do.

On the way home, Lucy falls asleep in the back seat. As I drive, my eyes flicker to the rearview, catching glimpses of her peaceful face. It’s the same face it’s always been. They’re the same closed eyes I used to watch when she slept in my arms as an infant. I’d fallen in love with that sleeping child’s face night after night.

Even now, beneath the stone mountain of our troubles, I can’t look at her without feeling an unending well of love for her.