The first time I got drunk I was thirteen. I convinced Annabelle to help me steal booze from my mother’s friend’s house. Her fridge was always filled with alcohol, and I figured she wouldn’t miss a few bottles of beer.
I stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, eyeing the adults while they chatted, as Annabelle transported the beers, one at a time, from the fridge into my purse. She gave me a thumbs up, and I interrupted my father mid-sentence: “Anna and I are going to the park,” I announced, grabbing my bag and heading for the front door.
“Okay,” my mother called. “Don’t be too late.”
Annabelle and I walked along the rocky shoreline, over shards of multicoloured beach glass, worn-down pebbles, creature-shaped seaweed formations, and fish bones. I leaned forward, allowing the tips of my fingers to graze the water’s surface. It was frigidly cold and numbed my fingertips, causing them to throb. The ocean was always cold here, even in the summertime, but I didn’t hold it against the water, loving it just as much as if it were hospitable. I splashed Annabelle and she giggled, bending and splashing me back. I licked my salty lips and smiled.
We continued down the road, waving at each passing car before crossing the bridge over the stream, ducking through the gazebo, and arriving at the park.
Hannah ran to greet us, falling into me in a sloppy embrace. She was already drunk. A group of boys were sitting at a yellow picnic table nearby, rolling a joint.
Hannah and I walked arm in arm to the swing set as Annabelle trailed behind. I plopped down on the swing, pulling a beer from my purse and unscrewing the top. “Do you want one?” I held the bottle toward Annabelle.
“Okay.” Surprised, she stepped forward, taking the bottle from my hand. I opened another for myself.
James approached, passing me a lit joint. I took a hit as he began pushing me on the swing. “What are you doing bringing Annabelle around?” he muttered quietly so she wouldn’t overhear. “She’s too young.”
“That’s funny.” I turned back, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t remember you being declared king of the park.”
“Hey, I’m just looking out for her. Someone’s got to.”
“Fuck you, James.” I leapt from the moving swing and headed for the group of guys. “Come on, Anna,” I called.
It was beginning to get dark; the sun had left its lingering post over the headlands and I was pretty drunk. Not cute-teenage-girl-stumbling-and-giggling drunk, but the drunk of a well-seasoned drinker. It felt right to me, this state of controlled chaos. I could tell Annabelle was feeling it too, but she was less in control.
Headlights appeared at the entrance of the park, and I assumed it was someone getting dropped off. I took a swig from my bottle just as I heard my mother sharply calling, “Grace?”
“Oh shit.” I quickly stashed my beer under the table and made my way to the car.
“Are you drinking?” she demanded, her eyebrows raised.
“No.”
“Get in the fucking car.” Her head was hoisted out the open window. “Where’s your sister?”
“There.” I pointed to the monkey bars; Annabelle was lying beneath them in the grass. “I’ll get her.”
When I reached my sister, I saw that her eyes were closed. Her hair was draped over her face, covering her pale skin like a bedsheet. I knelt and nudged her. “Anna?”
She didn’t move.
Panicked, I began to shake her by the shoulders. I could see that she was breathing—her chest was moving up and down slightly—but her eyes remained closed. James appeared, kneeling at my side. “Did someone give her booze?” I hissed at him.
“I think she was doing shots,” he said, planting his hands on the ground to keep from swaying. “With the boys.”
“What the fuck?” I pulled my sister to a seated position and began tapping her on the cheek gently “Anna, please wake up.”
I heard the car door slam, and saw my mother headed toward me. “What’s going on?” Her voice came out strained and clipped.
“I don’t know.” My breath was short and I felt my heart pound. “I can’t wake her up.”
My mother, now moving quickly, knelt and placed her index and middle finger on Annabelle’s wrist. “Jesus Christ, Grace. Was she drinking?”
“She had a beer.” Tears were beginning to stream down my face. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“She’s just a child, Grace.” My mother scooped Annabelle up in her arms. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I followed as my mother carried her to the car, opened the back door, and strapped her in. Annabelle’s head flopped to the side and hit the window. I was now sobbing uncontrollably.
“Quit crying and get in the car,” my mother screamed. “Now.”
My mother started the engine and I climbed into the passenger seat. I buckled my seat belt and turned, straining to grab Annabelle’s hand. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” my mother snapped, reversing onto the main road. “We’ll see when we get to the hospital.”
With my arm outstretched, I stroked the back of Annabelle’s soft hand with my thumb, feeling the thump in my stomach every time her head bounced off the window. The sporadic motions and smell of gasoline were making me dizzy. My mouth tasted yeasty and stale, and the world around me was starting to spin. I needed some air but I was terrified to roll the window down.
My mother clutched the steering wheel, periodically eyeing Annabelle through the rear-view mirror. The engine revved as she pushed in on the accelerator, guiding her hand to the gearshift. “Let’s just hope you didn’t kill another one of your sisters.”
The high beams lit the straight road ahead. The pavement was black and glossy like the skin of a wet serpent. There was no one else on the road. The street lamps flashed by as my mother geared up again.
“What do you mean?” I shouted, dropping Annabelle’s hand and grabbing for the dashboard.
My mother shifted her gaze from the road, peering over at me. Illuminated houses snapped by as though they were being inconsistently captured with a flashbulb camera. She looked wild in the forefront, her dark hair flying upward as wind shot in through her open window. Her blue eyes had darkened—wicked and vindictive—and for a moment, I didn’t recognize her at all. I thought she was going to kill us.
“You killed Sophia.”
My stomach churned, and acidic liquid shot up my throat. I covered my mouth with my hand and “What?” came out like a breath.
My mother continued to stare at me. Her bottom teeth were pushed forward into an underbite. Her chin quivered. She wasn’t watching the road. I swallowed the vomit in my mouth as her words came out even and pointed. “You rolled her over and she suffocated. It’s your fault. Why do you have to take everything from me?”