“Well, what is it? What’s wrong?” I tried to suppress my annoyance. Another thing about Delaney since becoming a teenager: she was dramatic as hell and getting an answer out of her was like pulling teeth with a pair of chopsticks.
“It’s Sam. There … well, there’s been an accident.”
And just like that, Delaney’s woman-like façade crumbled completely. Her nose wrinkled up and she reached for me, falling into my chest. I held her there, shock rolling through me.
Delaney was sobbing, her body rocking back and forth into mine.
“Oh my gosh. What kind of accident?” I whispered.
I rubbed her back in slow circles, soothing her at my breast, just as I had done when she was young and needed me. But this felt different, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held her.
It’s been years, I realized sullenly.
As I hugged her, I could feel her bones through her skin, no more baby fat. Overnight, she’d become sharp angles and blunt curves … a total stranger to me.
When did she lose weight? And why haven’t I noticed before now?
Delaney still hadn’t answered. I felt desperate to know, but my heart ached as she shook and cried in my arms.
Could my husband’s new wife be … dead?
For a brief moment, I considered how that would make me feel, really feel. Sure, I resented Samantha, but dead?
No, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Especially not someone my daughter’s grown so fond of. Her happiness is more important than any resentment I feel toward Michael and Samantha.
But there was another part of me, that niggly fierce mother in me, that felt slightly pained by my daughter’s strong reaction.
It must be bad.
“Shhh … I’m sure it will be okay.” I stroked the top of Delaney’s hair, breathing in the heady smell of her honey-scented shampoo.
Delaney pulled back with a surprised jerk, flustered. She wiped her face with the back of her hands, smoothed her rumpled hair into place.
She remembers who she is now. No longer a baby who cries in her mother’s arms …
“Dad texted while I was in the shower. Sam was on the way to get me when someone ran a red light and hit the side of her Mercedes. She’s being taken to University Hospital. Her neck is broken, and some other things … That’s all I know.”
“Oh my God, that sounds serious,” I said, reaching for her. I wanted to hold her again, try to make it better … but, this time, she side-stepped me. With her back pressed to the couch, Delaney took out her cell phone out and started punching keys. “I need to go to the hospital. I need to make sure she’s okay. And Dad probably needs me too. He sounded very worried …”
“Yes, of course, we should go right now. Let me grab my purse and slide on my shoes, then I’ll take you.”
Moments later, we were buckling our seatbelts in the minivan and backing out of the driveway. Delaney twisted her hair into a tight, wet knot at the base of her skull that oddly resembled my own.
“I know you must be so worried, honey. Are you okay?” I reached over out of habit, ready to pat her knee.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, inching her legs out of reach. She shifted her body towards the passenger’s window, still struggling to smooth the frizzy, loose pieces of hair that poked out from the stubby bun.
Twenty minutes later, the glaring red lights of University Hospital came into view. I flicked my signal on and turned into the crowded lot.
“I’ll park in the garage. We can take the elevator up—”
“No, just drop me in the front.”
I tapped my brakes outside the emergency room entrance, hesitating.
“But we could get towed. It’ll only take a moment to grab a spot, Laney. I’ll be fast, I promise.”
“Mom,” Delaney whined, “just drop me in the front, okay? I’ll call you in a little while with an update.”
“Oh.” I felt my cheeks growing warm. “You don’t want me to come inside with you? I’m sure your dad wouldn’t mind. I’m concerned for Samantha too …”
“The last thing Dad needs is an extra stressor, okay? I’ll let you know how she’s doing as soon as I can. And I think you’re right; she’s going to be okay.”
“Yes, I’m sure she will,” I said, still hearing the ring of that word ‘stressor’ in my ears.
Is that all I am to my ex now, an extra blip of stress in his busy radar of life?
I parked at the curb behind a row of flashing ambulances. I watched two paramedics, as they unloaded an elderly man out the back on a big, white gurney.
Delaney let herself out the passenger’s side, not looking back or saying goodbye. I watched my daughter as she ran towards the entrance, joining up with two familiar faces at the door: my ex-sister-in-law, Fiona, and my ex-father-in-law, Joseph.
Glad to see they turned out for Samantha. They didn’t even come to the hospital when Delaney and Dillan were born …
My face burned with shame.
I shouldn’t be thinking of myself at a time like this. Samantha has been injured and my daughter’s upset.
Joseph and Fiona glanced over at me, expressions stony. Then, pretending I didn’t exist the way they always did, they looked away. I watched as Joseph wrapped a thick arm around Delaney’s shoulders and led her inside the hospital. I waited for them to disappear through the revolving doors.
The sun was nearly gone, the sky an ominous indigo color. I made the slow drive home, not even bothering with the radio.
As I approached our subdivision, I flicked my high beams on to combat the fog. My thoughts were muddled and strange.
Will Samantha be okay? What if she’s not? Will Delaney be alright? But then those questions swelled into darker ones: Why is Delaney so distraught over her stepmom? And why is she always so impressed by her? Am I losing my daughter completely? And why am I so damned jealous?
I could see it in Delaney’s eyes when she talked about her stepmom – they lit up. ‘Sam’s such a talented painter. Sam has a moon and star tattoo on her back. Sam showed me how to mix paint properly …’
Blah blah fucking blah.
But guilt fluttered back.
This is no time for being petty.
I wasn’t normally the praying type, but I said a small prayer under my breath for Samantha.
When I pulled in, there was a red Miata parked in my driveway. Loud 90s rap music boomed from the speakers, seemingly shaking the entire block.
Good thing I only have one neighbor for miles.
I parked beside the Miata, smiling warily.
“There you are!” Pam squealed. My oldest friend – my best friend – was sitting in the driver’s seat, blonde hair crispy with hairspray. When she smiled, I saw a smudge of bright red lipstick on her freshly whitened teeth. I motioned for her to turn down the radio.
“Sorry,” she said, grinning wildly. But her manic smile evaporated when she saw the worried look on my face. I rolled my window down farther, then turned off the engine.
“Oh, Ivy. What’s the matter?”
Unhooking my seatbelt, I leaned my seat back a little and took a deep breath.
There’s something about being around my best friend that makes me want to lie down and relax, tell her all about my day like she’s Sigmund Freud …