The last secret_ a novel - Mary McGarry Morris [45]
“Shh, Lyrrie, shh,” Robin whispers as Lyra complains about leaving crayons behind. She begins to cry. Her crumpled drawing hangs from her fist over Robin's shoulder. Way past her bedtime, poor little thing, Nora thinks, imagining the child being snatched up from a sound sleep: any opportunity to see Ken. “In there.” Robin points to one of the drawn blue curtains.
“Drew!” Nora gasps, seeing his battered face. He raises his hand and she holds it with both her own. On the other side of the bed, the doctor is still working on him. Almost done, she says.
“Won't hardly show,” she murmurs, snipping the black thread.
Nora's knees sag. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“I'm okay,” Drew says in a gurgly-sounding voice.
“He's going to be fine,” the doctor says. She is peeling off her surgical gloves when Ken hurries into the room. As she writes out postcare instructions, she begins to explain them to Robin, who still has Lyra on her hip.
“That's his mother,” Robin says.
Nora nods, trying to listen, then hands the forms off to Ken. He is asking the doctor about the concussion.
Nora leans close to Drew who is shivering now. All she wants is to hold him and make everything better. “What happened?”
He shakes his head, and she asks again. “Later,” he says, teeth chattering.
“Tell me now,” she says, pulling the sheet to his chin.
“Please, Mom?”
“Drew.”
“I know,” the doctor says, turning back to Nora. “Quite a lot, don't you think, for just tripping in the driveway. Plus the bruised back and the fractured rib.” She looks over her square glasses at them. “And the knuckles scraped raw.” The surgical tools in the steel tray she's holding rattle as she opens the curtain. “If it were my son, I'd file a police report. Somebody did that. Somebody who wanted to hurt him, and hurt him bad.” She closes the curtain behind her.
Robin buries her face in Lyra's hair.
“Who are you crying for?” Nora asks quietly.
“Don't. Please, don't,” Ken begs her.
“Tell me you're crying for him, for my son.”
“Mom,” Drew gasps.
“No, because you're not,” Nora says. This surge of bitter power is like inhaling pure oxygen. “It's all about you, Robin. As always.”
“Don't make Mommy cry again. Please, Auntie Nor. She loves you,” Lyra says, clutching her mother's neck with both arms.
Ken covers his mouth and looks away.
“Why don't you wait outside?” Nora says. “I'll help Drew with his things.” She can't bear to be near them, and she is ashamed. Ashamed of her rage and her fear, ashamed that it has come to this, their children's pain. They had been good and decent people, two good and decent families, and now look at them. Especially herself, wanting, more than anything else, to hurt them the way they've hurt her. She helps Drew put on his shirt. Neither one speaks. His sneakers smell rancid as she puts them on his feet. He needs new ones, she thinks, tying them. The only way he can get off the bed is to hold on to her. He gives a painful yelp as he tries to straighten up. Even in the wheelchair he hunches over.
“Maybe we should call the police,” she says, looking at his battered face.
“No! I hit him first.”
“Why?” Then shakes her head. She knows why.
“We were outside Bradley's house and Clay came up to me and he goes, #x2018;What, do you send your mommy out to fight your battles, Drewie?’ And he was drunk, really, really drunk, but I hit him.”
She feels sick to her stomach. It's over. The all-consuming anger and suspicion, the blame and the bitterness, it's all too destructive. Which does she want more, punishment and revenge, or peace for her children?
Driving home, they listen in silence as Drew tells them the rest. Friends of both boys tried to separate them, but not before Clay pounded Drew's head into the cement block patio.
“I shouldn't've hit him. I should've just walked away,” Drew says, and they both nod. Their unspoken agreement, always: as long as he is honest, it won't be brought up again. At least not to him. Listening now makes Nora realize how open he used to be with them. And how shut down he's become. The Gendrons arrived