The Weekenders (50 page)

*   *   *

Riley sat across from a nurse at the admitting desk, giving Maggy's detailed medical history.

“She was diagnosed with type 1 juvenile diabetes a little over a year ago,” she told the nurse. “Maggy will be thirteen in October.”

“Is her diabetes well-controlled?” the nurse asked.

“Usually, yes. After she was diagnosed, they kept her at WakeMed in Raleigh for three days, while they stabilized her blood sugar and educated both of us on the disease. Maggy's very bright, and picked up all the diet restrictions and blood testing really quickly.”

“And is she usually compliant?”

“Usually, she's very diligent,” Riley said. “We haven't had a single incident in months and months. But she's had a rough summer. Her father was killed in May, and they were very close.”

“That poor kid,” the nurse said, shaking her head. “And what happened tonight?”

“We'd had a fight earlier in the day, and she was very upset. She was supposed to spend the night with a friend, and for some reason I don't understand, she left her friend's house around eight o'clock. When Maggy got home, she went directly to her bedroom and locked the door. I wasn't home.” Riley felt her gut wrench with guilt and shame. “Around nine o'clock, my mother got concerned and knocked on her door, but Maggy didn't answer. She called me, and I got home, and we managed to get the door off the hinges.”

Riley chewed a bit of dried cuticle on her thumbnail. “We found an empty Coke can and several candy wrappers on the floor by her bed, and she was already unconscious, on her way to a diabetic coma. I managed to give her an injection, immediately, and then we called nine-one-one and got her here as fast as we could.”

“Okay,” the nurse said. “I'm going to go in the back and see how she's doing. Why don't you take a seat and I'll come out and let you know what's what.”

“Thank you,” Riley said. She collapsed into a chair and covered her face with her hands. Even when she closed her eyes she could still see Maggy's ghostly face, smell the urine on her clothes and the smeared chocolate candy on her fingertips.

Maggy hadn't accidentally gorged herself on a sugary soda and candy bars. Her daughter knew exactly how many grams of protein, sugar, and complex carbohydrates she could safely consume in one day. She knew how to rescue herself with a quick hit of juice and cheese crackers if her blood sugar dropped, and how to inject herself with insulin when it was needed.

No, Maggy knew exactly what she was doing tonight.

“Mrs. Griggs?” The nurse was smiling down at her. “Maggy's going to be fine. They're giving her fluids, and she's resting.”

“Can I see her?” Riley asked.

“Just for a minute. Once we get her into a room, you can settle in and stay with her.”

Riley followed the nurse to a curtained-off treatment area. She stood by the bed and gingerly touched her sleeping daughter's face. Her color had improved, and her skin was faintly warm to the touch. There was an IV tube attached to the crook of her right elbow, and another to the back of her left hand, and she wore an oxygen mask.

“See? She's perking right back up, like a little hothouse flower,” the nurse said cheerfully. She put a gentle hand on Riley's arm. “Come on, Mama. Don't be so scared. Kids this age like to live dangerously. They don't want their friends to know they have a disease. They're embarrassed to have somebody see them pricking their finger to test their blood, or giving themselves a shot. We see this kind of thing all the time. I promise, twenty-four hours from now, you won't even know she got sick.”

“I doubt that I will ever forget this night,” Riley said. “But I hope you're right about her recovery.”

*   *   *

Somehow, she managed to doze off in the hard molded-plastic chair. She felt a gentle kiss on her cheek and opened her eyes to see Nate sitting beside her, holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Sorry to wake you up.”

“I wasn't really sleeping,” Riley said, trying to sit up straight.

“I talked to the nurse a minute ago,” Nate said. “I might have let her think I was your husband.”

“Oh.” Riley frowned.

“I didn't actually tell her I was. She just assumed it,” he said. “Anyway, she said they're going to move Maggy into her room in about fifteen minutes because her condition has stabilized.”

“Good.” Riley yawned widely. “What time is it?”

“A little after two a.m. I texted Billy to tell him I'd gotten here, and that the nurse said Maggy was doing okay.”

“Oh geez,” Riley said. “I totally forgot to call them. Thanks for doing that.”

“I don't want to upset Maggy, so I'll just stay out here in the waiting room,” Nate said. “Unless you want me to go back to the island and pick up some clothes and stuff for you? I could stop and bring you some breakfast too, if you want.”

“No, Nate,” Riley said, biting her lip.

“No, you don't need clothes, or no breakfast?”

“Neither. Both. What I mean is, I don't want you to stay.”

“I don't mind,” he said. “I can't leave you here by yourself. Really. I got this.”

Riley blinked back the tears welling up in her eyes. “I want you to go. Please? It's over. I can't see you anymore.”

He recoiled as though she'd punched him in the gut. “Why?”

“Maggy didn't just slip up and forget to take care of herself tonight. She deliberately put herself in a diabetic coma—because she was angry at me. She could have died. I can't risk that again. She's my child, Nate. I can't put her health at risk.”

He was shaking his head. “She's pushing your buttons, Riley. Punishing you to get what she wants. All kids do that kind of stuff.”

“All kids don't have insulin-dependent diabetes,” Riley said. “All kids haven't stood in a hospital morgue and seen their father stretched out in a refrigerated drawer.”

“No, Riley,” he said urgently. “This isn't fair. Not to you or me. We didn't kill Wendell. We deserve some happiness, don't we? Okay, we can cool it for a while, until Maggy gets used to the idea. But don't tell me it's over.”

“I'm sorry, Nate,” Riley said. “You have to go. Please?”

*   *   *

She was leaning over the hospital bed, listening to her daughter's steady in-and-out breathing. She stroked Maggy's hair, smiling at the now-faded pink streaks. She turned her head for only a moment, and when she looked back, Maggy's long eyelashes fluttered open.

“Hi,” Riley said softly. “You're back.”

Maggy nodded. “What time is it?”

“It's almost ten in the morning. You had kind of a rough night, kiddo.”

Maggy turned her head and looked at the monitors and the IV pole and then back at her mother. “Is this the hospital? How did we get here?”

“Baldwin Memorial. They sent a helicopter to pick us up on the island.”

“I rode in a helicopter, and I didn't even know it?”

“You were pretty sick.” Riley squeezed her daughter's hand. “You scared us, baby.”

A tear trickled from Maggy's eye, and Riley dabbed at it with a tissue. “I'm sorry, Mommy. I was so dumb. I didn't mean that stuff I said.”

“It's okay. We both said some stuff we didn't mean. Do you feel like telling me what happened last night? Why did you leave Annabelle's?”

“We had a fight.” Maggy turned her face to the wall. “She said Dad was a crook, and he stole money and the FBI was after him.”

“Oh, honey.” Riley bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, wishing she could draw blood from Annabelle, and anybody who was ever, ever cruel to her child.

“Then she said I was stupid and ugly and it was gross that I have to stick myself and test my blood and get shots. So I came home. I hate her.”

“Is that why you ate candy and made yourself sick?”

“Yes,” Maggy said, in the tiniest, barely audible voice possible. “I was mad at you and Annabelle, and I wanted to make you feel as bad as I feel. But I'm sorry now. I won't do it again.”

“You better not,” Riley said.

“When can we go home?” Maggy asked plaintively.

“Maybe today. Mimi called. Mr. Banks is missing you.”

“No, I mean home to Raleigh. To our new house. The kids on Belle Isle are jerks.”

“We'll see,” Riley said. She kissed the tip of her finger and touched it to her child's cheek. “Get some rest now.”

 

59

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Parrish asked. They were on the ferry, bound for Southpoint, and then Raleigh.

“I don't want to, I have to,” Riley said. They were on a bench on the upper observation deck. Maggy sat nearby, with Mr. Banks clutched tightly in her arms. “My job starts tomorrow and Maggy's school starts, too.”

“You don't need to stay in a hotel, for God's sake. Just stay at our house until your new place is ready. I don't mind staying in town for a week or so, in case you need something, and you and Maggy won't be stuck in some dreary room where you can't even cook.”

“It's not dreary. It's a very nice all-suite hotel right across the street from Woodlawn, her new school, so Maggy can just walk there after dismissal. There's a kitchenette so we can cook if we need to, but I don't expect to have much time this first week, so we'll probably do a lot of takeout. We'll be fine,” Riley said.

“You won't let anybody help, will you?” Parrish said, shaking her head in exasperation.

“This is our new normal. I love and appreciate you more than I can say, Parrish, but Maggy and I have to figure out how to do this by ourselves. It's enough that you're helping me get some of our stuff out of the storage unit and moved into the hotel, and sticking around to go to orientation with her tomorrow.”

“It's not enough, but since you won't let me do anything else, what choice do I have? And let me just say—I think it's super shitty that this boss of yours won't even give you a couple hours to go to orientation with your kid at her new school.”

“Yeah,” Riley said uneasily. “I guess you can't expect a single twenty-six-year-old to get how important this is, but I kinda agree with you. I'm trying to be optimistic about everything, for Maggy's sake, but I'm afraid this isn't going to be the most family-friendly job I've ever had.”

“And she's a woman! There's no excuse for that.”

“I just have to educate her,” Riley said.

Parrish took a sip from her water bottle. “Did you see who got on the ferry at the last minute?”

Riley shot her an annoyed look. “You know I did.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“No. The whole thing is impossible. If you'd seen Maggy that night, in her room, in a self-induced diabetic coma, lying in a puddle of her own vomit and urine, you'd understand. Now, can we please drop it?”

“I'm not letting you off the hook that easily, Riles. I'm a mom too, you know, and I've raised a child. And no, David didn't have a serious disease, but that's not the issue. Kids that age are manipulative little bastards, and Maggy, bless her heart, is clever enough that she knows exactly how to push your buttons and how far to push you to get what she wants.”

“I don't think it's unreasonable of her to expect the only parent she has to put her needs first,” Riley said. “That's what parents do, and it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”

“You're missing the point,” Parrish insisted. “Needs aren't the same as wants. You give Maggy everything she needs—in spades. Attention, both physical and medical, affection, education, all of it. But she wants more. She wants to dictate how you live, who you love. That's not fair. And it's not good for her or you. Keep this up and she'll end up a spoiled, self-involved brat and ten years from now you'll be a lonely empty nester who wakes up one day to discover you forgot to have a life for yourself.”

“Anything else, Dr. Freud?” Riley asked.

“Yeah,” Parrish said, looking up. “I just saw him standing at the window up there in the pilothouse. If you'd seen the way he was looking down at you—the longing, the despair, all of it…”

“It wouldn't change anything,” Riley said. “What's done is done.”

*   *   *

“Come on, Mags. Parrish is here. Let's see how you look in the uniform,” Riley called. It was seven thirty Monday morning, Maggy had been in the bathroom for forty minutes, and Riley needed to leave for work.

“No!”

Riley looked at Parrish and shrugged.

“I got this,” Parrish said. She pounded on the bathroom door.

“Margaret Evelyn Griggs, get your tail out here. RIGHT THIS MINUTE.”

The bathroom door opened a crack and light spilled out into the hotel room. “I am NOT wearing this,” Maggy announced, walking out. “I look like that girl from Harry Potter.”

She stalked out of the bathroom, the hard soles of her saddle oxfords clattering on the tile floor. The sleeves of the boxy blue blazer stuck out from her narrow wrists by an inch, and the hem of the pleated skirt hit an unacceptable five inches short of her bony kneecaps.

“I think you look nice,” Riley said. “Now, unroll the waistband of that kilt and pull up the knee socks.” She handed Maggy her backpack. “Your kit is in there, and I packed extra juice boxes and crackers and snacks. You'll get a hot lunch in the cafeteria, but in case you don't like it…”

“Mom! I know all that. We've been over it, like, a million times.” Maggy sped toward the door.

“You've got the number at the station, just in case, right?” Riley called. “And the key to the room? I should be back here no later than four.”

Parrish followed Maggy out the door. “Does she remind you of Julie from
The Love Boat
in that getup?”