KEEPING SCORE
ANOTHER WEEK, COME AND GONE. Jackie, Ray, and Aaron are all in the kitchen talking in hushed tones. No one ever said anything to me about the Scrabble incident, which only makes me feel worse. Because now I’m positive they’re keeping score against me, they’re just doing it silently. They enter the living room in single file, each taking turns flashing me and Callie fake, uncomfortable smiles, looking back and forth between one another.
“What’s going on?” I finally ask as they form a semicircle around us.
Jackie reaches for the TV remote and mutes it. That gets Callie’s attention, finally causing her to look at them. I brace myself as Jackie takes a seat on the couch between us—this can’t be good. Aaron sits on the arm of the recliner and it tips forward with a squeal. “Your mother’s hearing was today—” she begins.
“I wanted to be there,” I interrupt.
“Mom didn’t want you there,” Aaron says, quick to jump in.
“That’s true,” Jackie agrees, bowing her head. “And, well. It didn’t exactly go in our favor.” She takes hold of Callie’s hand. I move mine before she can touch me. I hold my breath. “This hearing was to decide if there was enough evidence to proceed with a trial, or if your mom could come home, and they decided that the case will go to trial.”
“What?” I try to shout, except my voice barely works.
“I know, honey,” Jackie says. “But this isn’t the end. It simply means this is all going to take longer than we wanted, that’s all.”
“How much longer?” I ask.
“I don’t know, Brooke. It depends. And actually,” Jackie adds, “that’s one of the things we wanted to talk with you about.”
“Okay,” I mutter, the inside of me feeling like a slow-sinking ship, my heart a steel anchor that’s been thrown overboard.
“They offered a plea bargain, but—do you know what that is?” she asks, interrupting herself. I nod, even though I’m not exactly sure, because I need her to finish. Aaron sits up straighter and doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with me. “It means they would drop the more serious charges if your mother pleaded guilty to one of the lesser ones—that way there wouldn’t be a trial.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” I ask, looking back and forth between Jackie and Aaron, who’s starting to get all twitchy and irritated, raking his hands through his hair.
“No, it’s not a good thing, Brooke,” Aaron says, looking up at me like I’m completely dense. “Because then she has to say that she’s guilty, which means she’ll have to serve time, no matter what.” He pauses and takes a breath. “At least if there’s a trial, she has a chance.”
“Oh. Right,” I agree, my brain processing this information too slowly.
Jackie continues, probably sensing the mounting tension between me and Aaron. “Well, her lawyer is working on building a case. He thinks we should go to trial instead. He thinks we can win,” she tells us, her mouth halfway between a smile and a frown.
“Okay, but how long will that take?” I try to ask again.
Jackie shakes her head. “A while. Months. He says it could be a year, even, depending on all the different factors. He’s not sure how long.”
I feel my mouth drop open, my jaw suddenly unable to bear its own weight. I try to speak, but my tongue feels like a dull, flat rock in my mouth. My voice has to claw its way out of my throat. “And what?” I say, turning to Aaron. “We’re just supposed to live at Jackie’s house for a year?”
Aaron looks up at me from under his eyebrows, scrunching his forehead like I’m saying everything wrong. “Brooke, come on.”
“No, you come on!” I check my volume, try to make my voice softer, but I can’t. “You always do that. You act like I’m the one embarrassing everyone, but I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking!” I stop to take a breath. I look at Callie, wishing she could agree with me.
“You’re wrong,” he says, lowering his voice. “That’s not what I’m thinking at all.” He taught me that when we were kids: When you’re being yelled at, you should get quieter rather than louder because then the other person—usually Dad—has to get quieter too, just to be able to hear you. It worked only sometimes. “I’m thinking you have it pretty good here and you should be grateful.”
“That’s easy for you to say! You can leave and go back to your normal life.” My voice only gets louder, despite its shaking. “We’re stuck here.”
Jackie releases a short breath of air, and when I meet her eyes, they are cold. I’ve never seen her look like that before. She raises her eyebrows and inhales a deep, long breath of air, like she’s preparing to deliver a huge monologue, but she only whispers, more to herself, “Okay.”
Then she stands and walks into the kitchen. Ray follows behind her without so much as a glance at me. Aaron glares for a moment longer, then slides his eyes away, shaking his head. I throw my arms up and pull them tight around my stomach, clenching my teeth hard, not about to let any more words escape my mouth.
Later that afternoon Jackie and I are sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Greenberg’s office—Callie’s weekly appointment. This is the first time I’ve ever gone with them; Jackie said it would “do me good” to get out of the house.
She sets her magazine down and side-eyes me. If she’s waiting for me to apologize, she’s going to be waiting a long time. I’m straining to hear the words underneath the sound machine stationed on a table right outside the door. I can’t make any of them out, but I know that one of the voices belongs to Callie.
“Is she talking?” I ask Jackie.
She nods. “Yes. She has been.”
“Yeah, but she’s talking a lot,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“Well, why doesn’t she talk to us like this?”
She shakes her head. She doesn’t have an answer.
I jerk myself back in my chair. I should be happy that she’s talking, I guess, but I’m starting to really resent the fact the she still hasn’t said a word to me.
“It’s better than nothing,” Jackie points out.
“I know,” I tell her, my voice tight and closed off.
“I was thinking maybe you should try talking to Dr. Greenberg too, Brooke,” she says cautiously, adding in that rehearsed way of hers, “And you know, it just so happens that he has an opening after Callie, so if you wanted to meet him and—”
“Oh, it just so happened that way, huh?” I interrupt, my tone all saccharine, so mean I can taste it on my tongue.
Jackie scoffs, shifting in her seat.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” My pulse is gaining speed with every word. “Every time you don’t like what I have to say, you’re going to threaten to send me to therapy like I’m crazy or something?”
“Come on,” she says, turning her head. “No one said that. It’s sometimes helpful to talk to someone who’s objective.”
“There’s no way some stranger”—I emphasize that word—“is going to understand anything about anything.”
“Are you talking about me or Dr. Greenberg?” she asks, hurling some of my own attitude back at me.
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Forget it.”
“Brooke, I’m trying to help you, that’s all. Don’t you see that?”
“I don’t need to see some doctor. I need to see my mom, which is what I’ve been saying for weeks now.”
Jackie looks at me like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t.
“I’ll be in the car,” I finally say after a long moment of silence. I walk out of the office without another word.