It took all my energy to put on a happy face when Landon got up Friday morning. John had to leave early, and I had the day off. Landon asked me what was wrong as though he didn’t know what was going on in his own home. Still, I appreciated him not jumping right into the topic of his sister. “I’m not feeling well,” I said, which wasn’t necessarily a lie. I got a box of cereal out of the cupboard.
“What feels sick?” he asked. It was the question I always asked him when he was sick, an attempt to identify whether he was dealing with something bacterial, which could be treated, or viral, which had to be waited out. I feared my problems were the viral kind—I had no control.
“Everything feels sick,” I said, sitting across from him and sipping my morning tea. He looked concerned, and I reached over to ruffle his hair. He needed a haircut. “But I’ll be okay. I just need to rest.”
“So you can’t come to my game tonight?”
It took me a moment to remember that today was April 15—his first lacrosse game of the season. I was totally out of the loop on his schedule. I smiled even though I didn’t really want to go. “I’m hoping that if I rest all day I’ll be able to make it.” I’d missed every practice of the season so far in order to attend NA meetings with Keisha, or because the meetings had been the night before and I had other things to catch up on. Sure, there were plenty of parents who didn’t attend practice, but until now I hadn’t been one of them. Until Keisha had moved in, Landon and his activities were at the top of my list. Where were they now?
After getting Landon off to school, I tried to go for a run for the first time in several weeks, but my legs felt like logs, and I turned around after a mile and walked back. I wondered how ugly things were going to get between John and me. What could I have done differently? What couldn’t I have done differently was a better question. I texted Keisha twice. No response.
I did get some sleep in the afternoon, but my head and heart were still heavy when I woke up just before Landon came home. I had an idea in my head that we’d make cookies, or watch a movie together, but he had already planned to go to Kenny’s house to practice before the game.
John didn’t come home until an hour before it was time to leave. He took a shower, got dressed, ate some of the enchiladas I’d made, and thanked me as though I were the waitress at a Mexican restaurant. He didn’t make eye contact with me. We didn’t talk. But we all loaded up in the car together and headed for the game.
As soon as we got there, John was on the field, calling out practice runs, checking equipment. I set up a camp chair and watched. Last year, I’d helped John manage the team lists, call parents, and check out equipment. I’d been his unofficial assistant, and yet this year I hadn’t done a thing other than help with the parents’ dinner a couple weeks ago.
The second half of the game had just started when I got a text message. I hoped it was Keisha, then instantly caught my breath when it was. I guess John hadn’t cancelled her phone yet.
Keisha: I’m sorry.
The simple words made my throat tighten. I quickly replied.
Shannon: Are you okay?
Keisha: I’m really scared.
Knowing she was scared, scared me too.
Shannon: Where are you?
Keisha: Long Beach. Can u come get me?
I groaned low in my throat and glanced up to see John waving one of his players toward the goal. The kid got sticked in the chest, but not before he passed the ball. Landon caught it, swinging his stick back and forth to keep the ball cradled in the pocket while he dodged the opposing team on his way to the goal. I looked from Landon to John and back to the phone. I knew what John would want me to say to Keisha.
Shannon: I can’t. I’m sorry.
Keisha: Please?
It ripped at my gut to hear her voice in my head begging me. She was sick, but she’d had the clarity to ask for help. How could I deny that?
Shannon: I’m at Landon’s game. I can’t leave.
It was a poor excuse, since it put the blame on timing rather than on my decision not to play along the way I had in the past. I didn’t realize how poor a choice it was until she responded, however.
Keisha: What time can you be here?
I needed to tell her I wouldn’t be there, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. She’d been gone for five days; she could be in the middle of any number of horrible situations. Could I really tell her to figure it out on her own? And yet she’d stolen from me and from Aunt Ruby, and though we hadn’t found pawn receipts for John’s things from the garage, they hadn’t turned up either. She’d lied about so many things. But leaving her on the streets wasn’t the answer. Maybe I could convince her to go back to rehab. I couldn’t have any influence if I pushed her away.
Shannon: I don’t know when I can come.
Keisha: Please come soon. I’m so scared. Here’s the address.
And just like that, I was calculating how long it would take me to get to Long Beach. Landon’s team made a goal, and all the parents around me jumped to their feet. I was a beat behind them but clapped as though I knew what was going on while looking over the field to try to figure out which player had scored.
“Did you see me, Mom?”
I blinked as my son appeared in front of me—almost eye level with me these days. He was grinning from ear to ear behind the facemask of his helmet, his eyes bright and his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. “Did you see?”
“Of course I saw,” I said with a big smile, squeezing his shoulder. “Your first goal of the season!”
His eyebrows pulled together. “I didn’t make the goal,” he said, sounding confused. “But I threw it to Coby.”
“Right, that’s what I meant. I mean, the goal is kind of half yours, right?”
He looked disappointed, but then John called him back into the game. I looked across the field at my husband. He was at least looking at me, making eye contact, but he didn’t smile, or hold up three fingers—our signal for “I love you”—or come across the field to bask in the glory of our son.
After another second, the connection broke, and I sat back down while John called out commands to the players taking the field. Everything I’d done was filleted between us, raw and bleeding. I couldn’t see how it would be put back together. I didn’t know where to start. But I didn’t agree with him cutting Keisha out of our lives so completely either. Had he considered where she would go if she had no one reliable to turn to? And wasn’t the house half mine? He’d made the decision to change the locks and bar Keisha from our life, but didn’t I get some say? I realized that maybe my behavior had taken away my vote, but I hadn’t even had the chance to explain my side of things, not really.
Keisha needed me. I couldn’t say no.
“I won’t lie anymore,” I said under my breath, letting the words penetrate every part of me. It didn’t mean I was going to do things John’s way, but I wouldn’t lie to him anymore. Which meant the ugly between us was only going to get worse. But it also meant I would be helping Keisha the best I could. I couldn’t turn my back on her when she was reaching out for me. I just couldn’t.
Another goal was scored, but I didn’t even bother getting to my feet this time. I was on my phone looking for a hotel I could check Keisha into. Maybe she would see how far I was willing to go to help her and that would drive her toward sobriety. She hadn’t been using for very long, and she wasn’t beyond saving. I cross-checked the hotels with locations for Narcotics Anonymous meetings within walking distance. She’d reached out to me for help, and I could not say no. Not when there was still hope left to hold on to.