Page 42 of The Last to Let Go
“Why would she want to do that?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I think she just wants this to be over with. We’re trying to convince her that they need us to testify—all of us. You know, to prove that it was self-defense. Jackie’s going to. So am I. Tony, too. Except Mom doesn’t want you guys anywhere near this, even if it’s going to hurt her case.”
“That’s ridiculous!” I shout.
He scratches his head and sets his fork down on his plate. “She wants to protect you, I get that, but—”
Callie lets out this small noise, a cross between snort and laugh. Her eyes tick back and forth between me and Aaron.
Ignoring Callie, I answer for us all: “We’ll do whatever we have to do.”
“Speak for yourself,” Callie hisses, her voice low.
“What?” I ask, not used to her voluntarily offering up so many words at once.
“I’m not lying for her,” she says, wrapping her arms around her body so tightly her muscles tremble, something menacing going on behind her eyes.
Aaron looks at me, confused. “Who said anything about lying?” he asks, that familiar edge of irritation rising in between the words.
She looks back at us, her eyes dark, her jaw set, and repeats herself through gritted teeth. “I’m. Not. Helping. Her.”
I feel my breathing slow to a stop, my brain unable to process what she’s saying to us.
“Are you serious right now?” Aaron asks, barely able to stay in his seat. “Callie, she’s our mother—wehaveto help her.”
I’m sitting there, getting caught in a familiar cross fire, my head foggy, because this is not happening. Our little sister can’t turn on us, not now, not when we need her.
“And who was he?” Callie says, her voice not having reached this volume in months and months. “Some random stranger?”
My head feels like a drum being pounded, word by word.
“Just becauseyouguys hated him,” Callie continues, gaining steam, “doesn’t mean he deserved to die!”
“No one said that,” I tell her, but I can’t make my voice loud enough to be heard.
“So it would better if Mom were dead right now?” Aaron asks, his voice getting louder. “That’s what you’re saying?” He pushes his chair out and stands, like he’s going to walk away, but then he doesn’t.
“Stop, you guys,” I try, but no one seems to hear me.
Callie stands now too and swipes at the angry tears on her cheeks. “Why does anyone have to be dead?” she challenges, getting louder.
“You guys, stop!” I try again, my head surely about to implode.
“I don’t know, all right?” Aaron shouts over me.
“Shut up,” I tell them. “Stop it, both of you!” I yell, now standing in between them. “Shut up! Just. Shut. Up.”
Callie and Aaron stand on either side of me, all of us breathless. Then they both take a step away from me, likeI’mthe bad guy, when they’re the ones who are fighting. Callie spins around and stomps off to her room. When she reaches her door, she turns around and braces herself with one hand on either side of the doorframe, her voice straining when she says, “I hate you!”
Thencrash. Her door slams shut.
“Why does this happen every time we try to act like a family?” Aaron asks, though I don’t think he expects an answer, because he turns away from me before I can offer one. He stacks our three plates, one on top of the other, all the delicious food being smashed and splattered, and walks into the kitchen. I open my mouth to say something—what, I’m not sure—but the sound of the plates crashing into the sink makes me jump.
After a few seconds I hear the water running. I walk to the doorway and have to raise my voice over the clanging dishes: “Let them know that I’ll do whatever she needs, tell them whatever they want to know. She doesn’t have to keep me out of it—please tell her that. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Aaron mumbles, not looking up.
I go into the bathroom, open the medicine cabinet, and swallow three aspirins. Then I close my bedroom door and lie facedown in bed, listening to the pattering of rain on the window as I wait for the pills to kick in. She said she didn’t remember what happened. I didn’t believe her at first. But then I did. And now... now I don’t know.
