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“He tried to get me to go with him, too,” Cath said.
“Where would you have stayed?”
“He hadn’t worked that out.”
“Ha,” Reagan said, loosening her Olive Garden necktie. “I’d go back to Arnold for that. To see you meet Marlisse.”
“Is she really that bad?”
“Probably not anymore. I broke her in for you—” Reagan lifted her white button-down shirt over her head and reached for a black sweater. Her bra was bright purple.
This. This was exactly the sort of thing that crawled into Cath’s head and kept her from kissing Levi. Getting to see his ex-girlfriend’s Technicolor lingerie. Knowing exactly who it was who broke him in. If only Cath didn’t like Reagan so much …
Reagan crossed over to Cath’s side of the room, leaning over and sticking the top of her head in Cath’s face. “Does my hair smell like garlic bread?”
Cath took a cautious breath. “Not unpleasantly.”
“Damn,” Reagan said, standing back up. “I don’t have time to wash it.” She shook her hair out in front of the mirror on the door, then picked up her purse. “Okay,” she said, “unless something goes incredibly wrong, you should have the room to yourself tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“I haven’t so far,” Cath said dryly.
Reagan snorted and walked out.
Cath frowned at the door. Don’t be jealous. There was already a rule about this, but Cath should make another one, just for herself: Don’t compare yourself to Reagan. It’s like comparing apples and … grapefruits.
When her phone rang a few minutes later, Cath shook off the last of her green feelings and smiled. Levi was supposed to call her before he went to bed. She picked up the phone and was about to answer when she saw Wren’s name on the screen. WREN.
She and Wren hadn’t talked—they hadn’t even texted—since Christmas break. Almost three months ago. Why would Wren be calling her now? Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was just another wrong C.
Cath held the phone in her palm and stared at it, like she was waiting for an explanation.
The phone stopped ringing. Cath watched. It started again.
WREN.
Cath pushed Accept and held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hello?” It wasn’t Wren’s voice. “Cather?”
“Yes?”
“Thank God. It’s … your mom.”
Your mom. Cath pulled her ear away.
“Cather?”
“Yes,” Cath said faintly.
“I’m at the hospital with Wren.”
Your mom. Cather.
Wren.
“Why? Is she okay?”
“She’s had too much to drink. Someone—honestly, I don’t really know anything—someone dropped her off. I thought maybe you’d know.”
“No,” Cath said, “I don’t. I’m coming. You’re at the hospital?”
“St. Elizabeth’s. I called your dad already—he’s flying back.”
“Right,” Cath said. “I’m coming.”
“Okay,” Laura said. Your mom. “Good.”
Cath nodded, still holding the phone away from her ear, then let it drop to her lap and pressed End.
* * *
Reagan came back for her. Cath had tried to call Levi first—not because she thought he could help, he was four hours away—but she wanted to touch base. (The “tag” kind of base. The kind that means safe.) Levi didn’t pick up, so she sent him a bare-bones text, “wren’s in the hospital,” then called her dad. He didn’t pick up either.
Reagan knew where St. Elizabeth’s was and dropped Cath off at the front door. “Do you need company?”
“No,” Cath said, hoping that Reagan would see right through her. Reagan didn’t. She drove away, and Cath stood for a moment in the revolving door, feeling like she couldn’t push through.
The hospital was mostly locked up for the night. The reception desk was empty, and the main elevators were turned off. Cath eventually made her way to the emergency room. A clerk there told her that Wren was already upstairs, and sent Cath down another empty hallway. Eventually she was stepping out of an elevator onto the sixth floor, not sure whom she was looking for.
When she tried to picture Laura, all Cath could remember was what her mother looked like in family photos. Long brown hair, big brown eyes. Silver rings. Faded jeans. In a simple yellow sundress on her wedding day, already starting to show.
That woman wasn’t here.
The waiting room was empty except for a blond woman sitting in the corner, her fists clenched in her lap. She looked up when Cath walked into the room.
“Cather?”
It took a few seconds for the lines and colors to resolve into a face Cath thought she might recognize. In those seconds, a part of Cath ran to the blond stranger, wrapped her arms around her thighs, and pressed her face into her stomach. Part of Cath screamed. As loud as she could. And part of her set the whole world on fire just to watch it burn.
The woman stood up and stepped toward Cath.
Cath stood still.
Laura walked past her to the nurses’ station and said something quietly.
“You’re the sister?” the nurse asked, looking up.
Cath nodded.
“We just need you to answer a few questions.”
Cath did her best: She didn’t know what Wren had been drinking. She didn’t know where she’d been or whom she was with.
All the other questions felt like things Cath shouldn’t answer in front of a stranger—in front of Laura, who was just standing there, watching Cath’s face like she was taking notes. Cath looked at her, helplessly, defensively, and Laura walked back to the corner. Was Wren a regular drinker? Yes. Did she often drink to drunke
“Can I see her?” Cath asked.
“Not yet,” the nurse answered.
“Is she okay?”
“I’m not her nurse. But the doctor just briefed your mom.”
Cath looked back at Laura, at her mom, at this upset blond woman with tired eyes and really expensive jeans. Cath went to sit across from her, steadying herself. This wasn’t a reunion; this wasn’t anything. Cath was here for Wren.
“Is she okay?”
Her mom looked up. “I think so. She hasn’t woken up yet. Someone dropped her off at the emergency room a few hours ago, then left. I guess she wasn’t breathing … enough. I don’t really know how it works. They’re giving her fluids. It’s just time now. Waiting.”
Laura’s hair was cut into a long bob that hung like two sharp wings under her chin. She was wearing a stiff, white shirt and too many rings on her fingers.
“Why did they call you?” Cath asked. Maybe it was a rude thing to ask; she didn’t care.
“Oh,” Laura said. She reached into a cream-colored Coach bag and pulled out Wren’s phone, holding it across the aisle.
Cath took it.
“They looked in her contacts,” Laura said. “They said they always call the mom first.”
The mom, Cath thought.
Cath dialed her dad’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She stood up and walked a few chairs away, for two feet of privacy. “Dad, it’s Cath. I’m at the hospital. I haven’t seen Wren yet. I’ll call you when I know more.”
“I talked to him earlier,” Laura said. “He’s in Tulsa.”
“I know,” Cath said, looking down at the phone. “Why didn’t he call me?”
“I … I said I would. He had to call the airline.”
Cath sat back down, not right across from Laura anymore. She didn’t have anything more to say to her, and there was nothing she wanted to hear.
“You—” Laura cleared her throat. She was starting every sentence like she didn’t have the breath to finish it. “—you still look so much alike.”
Cath jerked her head up to look at her.
It was like looking at nobody at all.
And then it was like looking at the person you expected to see comforting you when you woke up from a nightmare.
Whenever Levi had asked about her mother, Cath always said she didn’t remember much. And that had always been true.