Chapter 19
Jack

Jason must have taken his bike, because he’s nowhere to be found. I run all the way back to Aunt Rachel’s, my bare feet almost numb to the mud and water at this point.

Out of breath, I push through the front door. “Jason,” I hiss, looking up the stairs. His bedroom light seems to be on, so I bolt up after him. A trail of brown footsteps follows me, blemishing the usually spotless floors. Great. Because I’m not in enough trouble. I pop into the bedroom, vowing to get a towel and scrub up the mess after a quick word with my cousin. “Jason, you can’t tell Aunt—”

“Tell me what?” Aunt Rachel says, sitting on my air mattress, wringing Mom’s pillow case around in her hands. She’s shaking. “You want to tell me where you got this?”

Oh shoot.

I perch on the edge of the bathtub with my feet inside as it fills with water. Aunt Rachel stands behind me, squeezing a bottle of soap that makes fart sounds as it shoots pink bubbly liquid into the tub.

“Scrub,” she commands in a no-nonsense voice, turning off the tap and handing me a scratchy teal washcloth. I get started. She watches like a hawk, both of us unsure what to say next. The water swishes back and forth as I scrub mud, grass, and even some blood from my heels to my knees. “Not even any shoes, Jack?” she sighs, starting with the least loaded matter at hand.

“I had to get outta here fast,” I try to explain. “Mom left me a message, and Jason just deleted it!”

Aunt Rachel nods. “I know.”

“So you heard it too?” I frown at this new betrayal, but after Mom, Jason, and George, I can’t say I’m surprised. “You knew she wasn’t coming back, and you said nothing?”

Aunt Rachel inhales deeply. “Your mother will be back,” she insists. I catch a sense of desperation in her voice, as if me staying here forever would be the worst thing imaginable, and I have to agree. Thank God for Dad’s message. “And when she does get back,” Aunt Rachel continues, “she’s going to need you more than you know.”

“She has a funny way of showing how much she needs me,” I fight back, tossing the washcloth into the tub, lifting my legs, and spinning around to face Rachel. My feet drip on the white floor. Rachel hands me a giant fluffy towel. “Thanks,” I mumble, quickly wiping my legs dry.

There’s a tap on the open bathroom door, and Uncle Dave pokes his head in. “Everything okay in here?” he asks softly.

I say “Yeah,” as Aunt Rachel shakes her head no.

Dave crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, his imposing body blocking any chance of escape. He begins his portion of the interrogation: “Should we discuss how you told me you’d be at the park, a block down the street, and I trusted you, Jack, only to find you’ve been trekking to your house alone every day for the past week?”

“I wasn’t alone. George was with me.”

Aunt Rachel scrunches her brow in disbelief. “George? I thought you hated him.”

“I do now,” I agree just as I realize she’s probably talking about Morgan’s horrible friend, not mine. Ah well. I hate them both. “Did you know my dad called? He wants me. He’s always wanted me. And my mom said no. I hate her. She’s insane!”

“Stop it!” Aunt Rachel snaps. Her words echo across the tile, and I nearly fall back into the tub in surprise.

In a softer tone, she goes on, “That word is not okay, Jack. Your mother is not insane. She’s just . . .” Once again, she trails off like she always does when she’s trying to talk about Mom, but this time I catch a tear streaming down her cheek. I wait for her to say sensitive. Instead, Aunt Rachel shocks me as she says, “She’s not well.”

My back stiffens. “You mean she’s sick?”

Rachel flinches a little but nods. “Yes.” Each word that follows is slow and deliberate, like she’s terrified of saying the wrong thing. “She feels things, emotions, differently than us. More extreme. And when those emotions take control . . .” Rachel looks toward Uncle Dave, like she’s unsure if she should say more, but I already know what happens when they do. I end up here. She finally continues, “I thought she had things in check this time.”

“This time?” I can’t even believe it. “You mean she’s done this before? You all knew this could happen? She knew? And nobody said anything?”

“She was taking her meds. She was doing better,” Aunt Rachel says defensively, glancing down at her chipped fingernails before adding, “At least I thought she was.”

“This is crazy.”

There’s a THWACK as Aunt Rachel’s foot kicks the cabinet behind her, startling a pathetic sniffle-snort out of me. “Use that word again, and I swear—”

“What your aunt means,” Dave interrupts in a struggle to change the tone, “is there are wrong ways to talk about this, and not talking at all is one of the wrong-est. We should have been more open with you, Jack.” He’s too late, though. For something to make Aunt Rachel speak like that—like Mom—I know things are way worse than I could ever imagine.

In a hushed tone, her calmness restored, Rachel continues, “When your mom comes back, if it’s like last time, she’s not going to be the same for a while. She might not be the way you feel you need her to be. But you need to know that we are all here for you and that she will get better. Everything will be okay again.”

“Okay,” I mutter, even though things haven’t felt okay in years.

Aunt Rachel scoops the towel off the floor and tosses it into the sink behind her, then reaches past me and flicks the drain lever. Slurpy sucking sounds punctuate the painful seriousness of this moment.

“You don’t need to worry about me,” I promise Aunt Rachel, with as reassuring a look as I can muster, despite my racing mind. Mom is sick. And Dad wants to be with me. Does he know Mom is sick? Will he come back if he finds out how much she needs our help?

I look up to my aunt and uncle, who are waiting for me to say more. Rachel’s hair seems disheveled, and I realize I have the same effect on everyone. “I’m sorry,” I say, before finally standing and pulling Aunt Rachel into a hug, because that’s all I’ve got. I’m sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I ruined your floors. Sorry my mom has you all worked up. That she has for years. I squeeze Aunt Rachel a little tighter because I know what I have to do next.

I’m sorry I can’t stay.