Jason sits up straighter in bed. “Okay, look, I know you’re mad. But this neighborhood is really safe. It’s not like he’s a little kid. He’s as tall as I am. He’s an athlete. He can defend himself.”
“Not against a knife. Or a gun.”
“You really think somebody is prowling our neighborhood with a knife or a gun?”
“It’s just not a good idea.”
“Come on, Erika. He’s almost an adult. You really think something is going to happen to him?”
No. If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t think anything is going to happen to Liam. I don’t think he’s going to get mugged or attacked. Liam can take care of himself. I’m not at all worried about that.
What I’m worried about is Liam happening to somebody else. Because my first thought when his bedroom was empty was: what does he want to do that he can only do at two in the morning?
What if he’s with Olivia Reynolds?
My breaths are coming in quick gasps. I’m hyperventilating. Jason’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening to me. He sprints into the bathroom and I hear him fumbling around the medicine cabinet. When he returns, he’s holding a bottle of pills. He fiddles with the childproof cap and finally shakes one out.
“Take it,” he says.
I haven’t had to swallow one of my Xanax in two months. I had been so proud of myself. But that progress is down the drain. I scoop the pill from his open palm and pop it in my mouth. I swallow it without water. Jason watches me, his brows knitted together. He used to only get a crease there when he was frowning, but now there’s a crease there all the time.
“Are you okay?” he asks in a soft voice like I’m some kind of mental patient.
I’m already feeling calmer from the Xanax, even though it’s probably a placebo effect. It couldn’t work that quickly.
“Listen,” Jason says in that same overly calm voice. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“Not until Liam is back,” I manage.
“What if I go downstairs to wait for Liam? I’ll talk to him about not going out in the middle of the night anymore, okay?”
I try to protest, but I feel dizzy and weak. That’s what hyperventilating always does to me. And the Xanax probably isn’t doing me any favors. “Okay. Thank you.”
I lie down in the bed, and even though Jason said he was going downstairs, he lies down next to me and strokes my hair. “You need to relax more, Erika. Everything is fine. The kids are doing fine. You worry much too much.”
I wish I lived in Jason’s universe. Where the kids are doing fine and my biggest problem is our substantial mortgage. But unfortunately, nothing in my life is that simple.
It’s my last thought as I drift off to sleep. I have no idea that my entire world is about to fall apart.
Chapter 21
Erika
Liam claims shotgun during the drive to school the next morning. He’s in an unusually good mood, in spite of the fact that Jason read him the riot act when he got home, and I repeated the entire performance this morning. But I don’t think Jason gave him that hard of a time, and I know I didn’t give it my all, considering I was still out of it from lack of sleep mixed with a Xanax hangover.
On top of that, I couldn’t get that angry when I knew that Jason had given him permission to leave the house during the night. Really, Jason should’ve been the object of my wrath. But he had already gone running, showered, and hit the road before I was fully awake. I don’t think that was an accident.
Liam has commandeered the radio, and he’s got a Maroon 5 song playing. He’s humming along, which is very unusual for Liam. Hannah is the one who usually belts out radio lyrics in a painfully off-key voice. In spite of his lack of sleep, Liam is very peppy this morning. I guess he’s right— he doesn’t need that much sleep. He’s still humming when we pull onto the block to get to the front of the high school.
“What’s going on at the school?” Hannah pipes up.
It’s a very good question. The front of the school is packed with police officers and reporters in equal numbers. It’s a bad combination. I try to pull up in front of the school, but a police officer waves me to the side entrance. My stomach sinks. The last thing you want to see around your kids’ school is a bunch of cops.
“Is the school even open?” I say. “What’s going on?”
Of course, Hannah and Liam immediately whip out their phones to try to figure it out. I pull alongside the side entrance, where there is a teacher manning the door. It seems like they are letting kids inside, although I’m hesitant to let mine out of the car.