The Silent Waters
Page 40

My eyes shut, remembering Mrs. Riley’s words.
She tried to kill herself.
She turned my way and frowned when she saw my look of despair. “Oh, dear. I was supposed to have you over to take your mind off your own issues, and I just made you feel worse.”
“No, no. I’m just so unbelievably sorry. I don’t know what to even say to any of this.”
“No worries. I wouldn’t know either.” Her teapot started whistling in the kitchen, and she shouted, “Stanley, can you get that?”
I narrowed my eyes at Mrs. Boone, and she paused. Moments later, she realized her mistake and hurried into the kitchen, then came back with the tea. We sat there and sipped the disgusting tea in silence. When it was time for me to leave, I stood and thanked Mrs. Boone for inviting me in, not only into her home, but into her history.
As she held the front door open, I asked her one last question.
“Is that why you offered to visit Maggie? Because she reminded you of your daughter?”
“Yes and no. Maggie has a lot in common with my Jessica, but there are big differences.”
“What’s that?”
“Jessica gave up on life. Maggie every so often has these flashes of hope. I see it more and more often with her. She’s going to be okay. I know she is. I have to believe she is going to be okay. You know the biggest difference between the two?”
“What?”
“Jessica had no one. She shut us all out. But Maggie? She has friends. Maggie has you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Boone.”
“You’re welcome. Now stop blaming yourself, all right?”
I smiled. “Same to you.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I know. Deep inside of me I know it wasn’t my fault, but sometimes when sitting by your lonesome, your thoughts wander to places they shouldn’t. Sometimes we are our own worst enemies. One must learn to be discerning with one’s own thoughts. We must be able to decipher the truth versus the lies of our minds. Otherwise, we become enslaved to the shackles of struggle we place on our own ankles.”
I hadn’t spoken to him in five days, and it had felt like the longest five days of my life.
“What are you reading now?” Mrs. Boone asked me, sitting across from me at the dining room table. When I’d asked Daddy to pass on the word to Mrs. Boone that I wasn’t feeling well, she’d called me a ridiculous child who needed some tea. She also blamed my fake illness on me always leaving my hair wet after a shower.
I held my book to my chest and shrugged my shoulders, then I flipped it over for her to see the title.
“Hmm. Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver. What is it about?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She always did that. She always asked me questions she knew I couldn’t answer. Seeing as how she never allowed me to write on paper, it felt like nothing less than pressure, and pressure was the last thing I needed.
I placed the book down on the table and sipped at my disgusting tea, grimacing.
“So today is a day where you hate tea again, huh?” she stated.
I shrugged again.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
I shrugged once more.
She rolled her eyes. “One more shrug and your shoulders are going to get stuck midair. So childish. He’s worried about you, you know. Pushing him away isn’t going to help anyone. It’s actually pretty rude. He’s a nice boy.”
A nice boy? Never in my life had I heard Mrs. Boone say anything kind about anyone.
“Brooks, you can come in now,” Mrs. Boone called toward the kitchen.
Brooks stepped out from behind the kitchen door, held his hand up, and waved shyly.
What is he doing here?
“I invited him,” Mrs. Boone said, once again reading my thoughts. “Sit, Brooks.”
He did as he was told.
“Now, this is the point where I talk and you both listen. You’re both idiots.” That sounded more like the Mrs. Boone I loved to hate. “You two like each other, right? So allow that to be enough. Stop overthinking everything all the time. Just be happy. Maggie, stop acting like you’re not worthy of happiness. If only people with perfect pasts were supposed to be happy, then no love would ever exist. Now, kiss and make up, you idiots.”
“What’s going on here?” Mama asked, entering the dining room. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept in days, her hair wild and untamed. Her eyes shot to Brooks, and a smudge of disappointment and shock flew across her face. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Mrs. Boone sat up straight. “Now, Katie, before you yell at the kids, I want you to know this was my doing.”
“You? You told him to come over here?”
“Yes. The kids were sad, so I thought—”
“I need you to leave,” Mama said.
“Oh, come on, that’s ridiculous. Let the boy—”
“No, I mean you, Mrs. Boone. I need you to leave. You crossed the line today, and you’re not welcome back into my house.”
I shot up from my chair, stunned by my mother, who seemed more like a stranger with each passing day. No! I pounded my hands against the table. I pounded over and over again until my hands started turning red, and then I kept pounding.
“Brooks, you leave, too. You and I already spoke, and I think I made my message pretty clear. Maggie, go to your room.”
No! No!
Brooks lowered his head and left. Mrs. Boone stood up and shook her head. “This isn’t right, Katie. Those kids…they are helping each other.”
“No offense, Mrs. Boone, but Maggie is not your child, and I’d prefer if you’d stop treating her as if she is your responsibility. She’s not Jessica and you do not get to make these choices for her. I refuse to let my daughter end up like—”
“Like what?” Mrs. Boone barked back, obviously deeply offended. She grabbed her purse and gripped it tightly in her hold. “Like my daughter?”
A glimpse of guilt appeared in Mama’s eyes before she blinked. “From this point on, there will be no more afternoon teas. I appreciate you spending time with Maggie, Mrs. Boone, I really do, but that will be all.”
As Mrs. Boone walked to the front door, Mama followed her, and I stayed right on their heels. “I get what you’re trying to do, Katie. I really do. I tried to do it with my daughter, too. You think you’re helping her by keeping her away from the world, from the place that hurt her, but you’re not. You’re suffocating her. You’re drowning out the little voice she has—her freedom of choice. Her choice to love, to open herself up. You’re stealing that from her.”