CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Michaela
Nineteen hours came and went before my parents finally decided to grace me with their presence. In that time, I’d been discharged from the hospital, driven back to Tranquil Falls and locked inside a room within the police station. Per the clock ticking away on the plain white wall, it was now ten at night and I had been sitting in this room by myself for four hours. I was surprised when the door finally popped open, my mother striding through in full makeup and fancy clothes, her overpriced designer heels clicking over the linoleum floors.
“What’s the meaning of this, Michaela? Your father and I have been worried sick and we were dragged out of an event this afternoon to come deal with the mess you’ve made of this entire situation.”
Lifting my head from where it had been nestled over my folded arms on the table, I blinked up at my mother, “It’s nice to see you too, mom. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“You do realize tomorrow is Christmas, right?” She practically screeched. “This is the busiest time of year for social obligations and you decide to pull a stunt like this? Where is Jack?”
The old Michaela would have cried at the blatant reminder that nobody in her family gave a damn about her. The new Michaela, the one strengthened by knowing and loving a man who’d finally opened her eyes to the injustice of this town, merely stared.
“I don’t know where Jack is, mom. Aren’t you concerned about why your daughter is locked in a room in a police station?”
She scoffed, one hand tossing her platinum blond hair from over her shoulder as she looked at the tables and chairs and grimaced. “I’d sit down to talk to you about my concerns, but the facilities leave much to be desired.” Eyes returning to me, she scowled. “What are you wearing and what has gotten into you? I was told you’ve been living with that Bishop boy for the past two weeks.”
Rolling my eyes, I lowered my hands into my lap beneath the table. My fingers were curling into my palms, my anger building until I could barely remain still. It was just like my mother to be more worried about ruining her dress by sitting in a chair than to be worried about me. “Is that all you were told?”
Huffing out a breath, she answered, “No. Of course not. The police said you claimed Jack attacked you, but-“
“He didn’t just attack me, mom. He raped me. Does that mean nothing to you?”
Clearly, she didn’t, if the disgust in her expression had anything to say for it. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I do not appreciate it. It’s impossible for Jack to have done what you’ve claimed. You’re his girlfriend, you’ve been sexually active for the past two years with him. And before this story you’ve been telling gets back to his parents, I’d like you to consider your future. Do you really think he’ll want to stay with you if you’re willing to throw such an accusation around? Now just tell me where Jack is!”
Shaking my head, I threw up my hands. “You know what? Screw it. Obviously, all this town cares about is Jack. And if my own mother isn’t willing to give a damn about me, then why should I care what the town thinks? Holden was right about all of you!”
Her jaw fell open, anger a shade of crimson across her cheeks. “Tell us where Jack is!”
“I don’t know,” I screamed.
The door burst open again, a man I didn’t recognize stepping through with Angela on his heels. Spinning to look behind her, my mother’s face twisted with shock. “I’m sorry, but who are you and what are you doing in here?”
The man looked to be my mother’s age with black hair silvering at the temples and black-rimmed glasses that reminded me of FBI agents from the fifties. Dressed impeccably in a grey pinstriped suit with a white shirt and burgundy tie, he pulled a silver case from his pocket, flipped the lid and extracted a card. Handing it to my mother, he introduced himself.
“My name is Jonathan Grinshaw, and I’ve been asked to speak to Ms. Paige regarding the current matter she has ongoing with the Tranquil Falls Police Department.”
Sneering, most likely because his suit wasn’t designer enough for her taste, my mother snatched the card from between his fingers and studied it. Flicking a glance back at him, she asked, “You’re an attorney?”
He nodded before attempting to step around her, but my mother moved to block him from getting a clear view of me. “I’m sorry, but whoever called you to speak to my daughter must be confused. We have a family attorney who will be handling any ongoing issues.”
My mother’s angry gaze slid to Angela. “And who, exactly, are you?”
Mirroring my mother’s disgusted appraisal, Angela answered, “I’m the confused woman that hired an attorney for Michaela and Holden. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a discussion that needs to happen and doesn’t include you.”
Opening the door, she held it open for my mother to step out. Mom snickered at the unspoken demand. “She’s my daughter, and she will answer my questions before I go anywhere.”
“Actually,” Mr. Grinshaw said, “From what I’ve been told, Ms. Paige is twenty years old, and therefore, not a minor. It’s up to her whether you remain in the room, or if she answers any of your questions.”
His kind brown eyes turned to me. “Would you like your mother to stay or go?”
I didn’t even know the guy, but I could tell we’d become fast friends. He wasn’t the type to put up with anything. “I’ve said everything I need to say to my mom. She can leave.”
Mom spun on her heel to pin me with her angry glare. “I will not be leaving until you tell me where Jack is!”
“I don’t know,” I yelled in response, “and I don’t fucking care. Now get the hell out of this room so I can speak to the two people who give a damn what happened to me!”
Flinching at the tone of my voice, my mother opened her mouth to argue but was cut off when Officer Shay stepped into the room. “She lawyered up, Gail. You’ll need to leave the room.”
Angela and Mr. Grinshaw took notice of the fact that Officer Shay was on a first name basis with my mom.
Flipping her hair, mom leveled one more stare in my direction. She wasn’t the type to be ordered around, but in this, there was nothing she could do. Her heels clicked across the floor as she left, each punctuated step a beat of disapproval. Shay slid his narrowed eyes over Angela, Mr. Grinshaw, and me in warning before slamming the door shut and leaving us alone.
Angela rushed to my side and took the seat beside me as Mr. Grinshaw selected a seat on the opposite side of the table, placing his briefcase on the surface.
“You okay?” Angela asked.
My eyes darted between them, noticing how Mr. Grinshaw was pulling a file from his briefcase and leafing through a few papers. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think I want anything to do with my mother again. But I’ll live. How’s Holden?”
She rolled her eyes. “Still under lock and key at the hospital, but thankfully the nurses and doctors can get to him and they’re on our side. That’s how I ended up here with the suit.”
Laughing silently, Mr. Grinshaw flicked a glance at Angela. “This suit just chased her mother and that officer from the room. You should be more thankful of it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Angela said, waving him off. It was obvious by their interaction that neither were the type to have their feathers easily ruffled. “Anyway, we’re here to bust you out. The suit over there is going to pull some fancy legal stuff to get you away from the station and then we’re heading back to the hospital to bust Holden loose. After that, we’re all going to sit down and have a long chat, but before we can do that, you need to sign some papers.”
Turning to him, I asked, “Do I need to tell you my side of the story now?”
Shaking his head, he slid papers across the table in my direction. Setting a pen on top of them, he answered, “Not now, unless you prefer staying in the station longer?”
“No, I’d like to leave and get back to Holden as quickly as possible.”
“That’s what I thought. These papers are the contract for you to retain me. As soon as you sign where indicated, I officially represent you, and I can,” his eyes darted to Angela, a small smile tugging at his lips, “pull some fancy legal stuff to bust you out of here.”
Panic gripped me. “I can’t afford to pay you,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry about that,” Angela said. “His bill is taken care of already.”
My head spun to her. “Can you afford that?”
Laying her hands on mine, Angela explained, “I’m not the one paying the bill. It seems Holden has other friends who would like to help. But in order to do that, they need you to sign those papers.”
Unease crept inside me. Angela was one of those women that is a force unto herself. No matter how, why or where, you didn’t miss her. You also didn’t just see or hear her, you felt her. Even though I’d only glimpsed a few sides to her, the angry, the skeptical, the worried, she exuded whatever emotion she was feeling. I was sure it was the same for every side of her. That’s why it was unnerving how in a moment when she should have been hopeful, the only energy I felt in her was remorse. It made me wonder who Holden’s other friend was.
“Who’s paying the attorney’s bill?”
Her expression fell, her shoulders deflated, and I knew what I felt from her was right.
“Someone at the hospital, I assume. I found the nurse you asked me to find.” Sighing, Angela admitted, “Honey, Delilah isn’t alive. She died three weeks after the accident that killed her parents.”
It was if time itself froze in that moment while my mind attempted to make sense of what my heart had already known. Sure, I’d questioned why Delilah hadn’t been in the house despite Holden’s claims. I’d picked up on the subtle nuances in her bedroom that spoke of emotional turmoil and the strongest denial possible of the human mind. But I’d refused to believe the worst of a situation where logic whispered the possibility that Delilah didn’t exist at all.
In times of grief, it is our first instinct to deny that a tragedy has occurred. We postulate and decide on alternative explanations. We beg the universe to alter reality so that the events that hurt us the most turn out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. We become desperate for miracles with the subconscious understanding that miracles are few and far between. And eventually, we move on from that denial. We become angry. We bargain for a different result. We lose our way in such deep-seated depression that, sometimes, it feels impossible to move on. But eventually, in a healthy mind, we learn to cope and move forward. We accept the cards that reality had dealt us and we learn to live on despite them.
But what if the mind isn’t healthy? What if the pain is so intense that to accept those cards is to accept the utter destruction of one’s self? What happens then?
We tell ourselves lies, and eventually, we begin to believe them.
Holden truly believed his sister was alive. And I felt like an idiot not to have seen it for what it was. He’d described her problems to me in depth, problems that created the perfect environment for a long term belief.
A girl that never left the house. A girl that never aged beyond the date her parents died. A girl who refused to believe her parents were never coming home, refused to live on despite the circumstances. Delilah was a girl Holden only saw when nobody else was around to tell him she wasn’t there.
The weight of it crushed me, and as my heart struggled to beat through the pain I felt for another person, a question echoed in my mind, one that crushed me even more until I was barely able to breathe.
“Has anybody told him?” I asked, my watery eyes searching Angela’s face. “Since he’s been at the hospital, has anyone-“
Shaking her head, Angela squeezed my hands. “There’s more to this situation than you or I could have known. And it needs to be addressed once we figure out how to make him understand. But right now, it’s not what needs our attention the most. You need to sign the papers, Michaela. We’ll go back to the hospital together. And once we can get Holden free of the police that are watching him, we’ll decide what to do about Delilah.”
I nodded while swallowing down the knot of pain slowly crawling up my throat. My hand shook as I grabbed the pen, my signature tight and distorted as I scrawled ink across paper. Once I’d signed and initialed in all the places indicated, Mr. Grinshaw silently slid the contract away from me, tapped the papers on the surface of the table, and exchanged a look with Angela as he slipped them into his briefcase.
Just as silently, he left the room while Angela pulled me into her arms. My tears wouldn’t stop falling.
“What’s going to happen to him?” I asked, the sobs wracking my body breaking apart my words.
Angela tucked me closer, her own shoulders shaking with her grief. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know. But whatever happens, I think it’s our job to take whatever pieces break apart inside him and help fit them back together.”
“This will destroy him,” I whispered, my heart so crushed that I couldn’t find the strength to speak any louder.
Moving so that she could grab my cheeks between her hands, Angela angled my face and locked her eyes with mine. The determination behind them was astounding.
“This will destroy him. You’re right about that. In truth, it already has. It destroyed him two years ago. But Holden has something going for him now that he didn’t have when the accident happened.”
Blinking away the tears, I asked, “What?”
Forcing a smile, she tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ear and answered, “He has us.”