I crouched down to pick it up. As my fingers closed around the pudgy figurine, something under the seat caught my eye. It was so dark down there I almost didn’t see it. The interior of the Jeep was inky black, just like the dashcam—which had fallen off the mirror and was right there for the taking.
As I slipped the little black golf ball that would blow up our lives into my sleeve, I thought about Mom. She would never agree to the man’s obscene offer, but she was unconscious, so it was kind of up to me. Hit-and-run was a crime, and Mom would want justice—she’d say Dad deserved it. But justice wouldn’t bring my dad back. And sending some rich guy to jail would not solve our problems. But his money would.
As I walked away from the scene with our future up my sleeve, I once again wondered: What is a human life worth?
It appeared we were about to find out.
Mom wouldn’t like what I did, but I was her only daughter, she would forgive me.
It never occurred to me that she might not forgive herself.
CHAPTER 28
I should have paid more attention to her.
I was so jazzed about having a boyfriend, I completely forgot about my mom. I forgot that her knee hurt every time she took a step. I forgot that her best friend and constant companion had been violently taken from her. I forgot that she was alone all day every day.
I tried not to cry the whole ride to the hospital, but I couldn’t stop. Libby hadn’t said the word “suicide.” She didn’t have to. Her face was so puffy when Logan and I pulled up to the house, I knew she’d been crying. She cried again as she described helping Evan load Mom’s floppy body into the car. She’d tried to sound hopeful that everything was going to be OK, which was supposed to make me feel better, but only made me feel worse. Because if everything truly is going to be OK, you don’t have to say it. And if she’d truly believed it, she wouldn’t have been crying so hard.
Libby had offered to drive me to the hospital, but Logan had insisted. I was a blubbering mess, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me. At one point he tried to hold my hand, but I didn’t hold his back, so he let go.
I had thought my dad dying was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But Dad’s death was an accident. If Mom died, it would be my fault. I would have killed her with my selfishness. I know kids sometimes think it’s their fault when something bad happens to a parent, but in this case, it would be true.
I should have known something was wrong when she didn’t show up to the meet. She always came to my meets. She’s not one of those moms who pushes her way to the front row and shouts C’mon, c’mon! during my races. But she’s always there, at the top of the bleachers, watching and silently rooting for me.
But today, for the first time, she hadn’t come. And I, for the first time, barely even noticed.
Maybe it was the money that changed me. I used to be a decent human being—caring and respectful. Now I was trash. They say money corrupts. I was a blatant case in point.
I thought back to our old life, the one when we were poor. We couldn’t afford designer anything or sit-down sushi restaurants, but my life somehow still felt full. I would have preferred not to have to buy someone else’s “previously loved” jeans and sweaters, but thrifting wasn’t so bad. Mom turned it into a game: Who can get the biggest haul for fifty bucks? I always won. There wasn’t a prize, except the satisfaction of telling Dad I’d out-shopped Mom again. We had a lot less, but we had a lot more, too. More time together, more laughs, more just being ourselves. I suddenly realized, money can’t buy happiness. But it sure as shit can take it away.
I thought Logan would just drop me off, but he parked and came inside with me. Mom had been admitted and was in a private room. We walked there in silence. I was too disgusted with myself to speak. And what do you say to a girl who drove her own mother to try to kill herself? Logan liked me now, but if he knew what a monster I was, he would dump me like rotten milk.
Mom’s door was open. She was sleeping. She had a tube up her nose and looked really pale. I wanted to run toward her and run away, both at the same time, and so I just stood there like a dumbass.
I knew from what Libby told us that Evan was the one who found her, so it made sense that he would be there, sitting by the bed. He seemed to be watching her sleep. I couldn’t decide if it was sweet or creepy. But who am I to judge?
He stood up when he saw me. “Savannah,” he said. “I am so sorry . . .” I started to cry. Because I was the one who should be apologizing. He looked like he wanted to hug me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. He had saved my mom’s leg and now her life. All this time I’d needed him to be the enemy, but what if it turned out he was something very different?