A Little Bit

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Eli

Dad sits across from me, the plastic seat cushion of the diner we’re in squeaking every time he shifts uncomfortably, nervously picking at his food.

I haven’t even touched mine, too on edge to pretend to be calm about this conversation. My anxiety skyrocketed the moment he informed me that Mom would also be joining us.

It took her months just to get the courage to come back to this town, then I traumatized the fuck out of her by shoving the reason she was so scared to come in her face. The fact that she’s coming tonight makes me fucking uneasy. I have no idea what they’re about to tell me, but I’m sure it’s about to fuck me up.

I’m facing the entrance, so I’m the first to see Mom when she walks in the door, her face run-down with despair.

I wave her over, and she mutters a tired “Hi,” before sliding into the booth with my dad.

He looks over at her. “Hey, Melanie. Did you want to look at a menu or maybe?—”

“No!” I bark, making them both jump and look at me in surprise.

I crack my neck. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m just… I’m really fucking anxious right now.”

My dad gives me a look and chides, “Language, Eli. We’re still your parents.”

I form my mouth into a tight line. “I’m sorry. But you guys bring me here together so I’m honestly nervous for whatever bomb you have to drop. Because it’s not like you’re not about to drop a bomb, right?”

Their eyes shift nervously toward each other and dad shrugs. “Weeell—” he says, dragging out the word before I cut him off.

I raise my hands at them. “See? So can you just tell me, please? Then we can all eat.”

Mom gives me a single, hard nod and brings her hands on top of the table to clasp in front of her, eyes cast down. “We-we wanted to talk to you about your sister.” She takes a shaky breath and looks up at me. “You were young and so there are some things we kept from you. Tried to protect you from.”

The unease rises in my throat. “Okay. Like what?”

She purses her lips and Dad decides to take the opportunity to fill in. “Your sister—she was very troubled. Specifically, she suffered from major depressive disorder.”

My brow furrows. “So she was depressed?”

They look at each other before Dad continues, “Well, yes, but that doesn’t capture the intensity of what she went through. It was very resistant to treatment. We-we tried a lot of different things. Therapy. Medication. Hobbies. But nothing really seemed to take. She even—um—she tried to commit suicide two times.”

I let out a strange breath of laughter. “Charlotte? No. She didn’t—she never seemed sad. She…”

My voice trails off trying to look for clues in the past of anything that they said. I wasn’t that young. I would’ve seen something. Caught on to something . At least, I think. But I can’t find anything in my mind.

My mom cuts in. “She was very good at hiding everything, honey. Especially from you, she never wanted you to know what she was going through. She always wanted to protect you from her ‘bad side’ she called it. That’s why we always told you she was at camps and learning programs. She didn’t want you to know the truth.”

“So where was she actually?”

They give each other a grim look again. I’m beginning to hate that fucking look. Dad answers this time, “Psychiatric hospital stays. Or rehab.”

I blink a few times and ask slowly, “Rehab?”

Dad nods, sighing his answer, “Yeah. When she was around fifteen, right after she started showing signs of depression, she started hanging with some different kids and started taking pills. They made her feel better and before we even knew what was happening, she was addicted.”

I think back to that little baggie I saw her pull out of her jewelry box. That glazed, blissed out look in her eyes soon after she swallowed one.

The realization crashes into me. I didn’t even think anything of it at the time and now, it seems painfully obvious.

I stay silent. My mouth shut tight while I try to process this.

“We wanted to tell you because of what happened the other day, with your… friend?” my mom says, her voice raising in question at the end.

She continues on when I don’t say anything. “The night that she—” her voice catches and she clears it as a single tear rolls down her cheek. “The night that she died they found oxycodone in her system. A lot of it.”

She rolls her lips to stop the tremble, but more tears fall. Dad places his hand over hers on the table and continues for her. “Much more than the amount that she would know to take. So the conclusion is that she was probably trying to kill herself again.”

Mom’s shoulders cave in and she lets out a hushed little sob, bringing her hand up to cover her face while Dad puts his arm around her.

I just stare at them, my eyes stinging, their figures blurry from the stupid tears forming in my eyes.

I swallow. “So,” I begin, my voice hoarse. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Mom sniffs as Dad turns his attention back to me. “When she was hit by that car, the amount of drugs in her system probably had her pretty out of her mind. She might not have even known what was happening, or… she might’ve stepped into the road on purpose.”

“What?” I ask incredulously, my eyes leaking out everything I’ve been trying to hold back.

My mom shakes her head, her voice a little shrill around her grief. “No one was there that night. So we don’t really know. But it was raining and in his statement, he said she went out in the road. Right in front of his car.”

“But-but you attacked him, Mom. You yelled that he killed her.”

She looks down shamefully. “I know. I just—I saw his face and I reacted, but I think the truth is that… she would’ve died no matter what that night.”

I feel raw right now, completely rubbed free of skin and my agony open for everyone to see. “You both should have told me all of this. Before you were forced to.”

My dad interjects, “It was about protecting you. But also, we kind of couldn’t. But now, I don’t think that we care.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

“His mother,” my mom says, raising her eyes back up to me.

My dad’s face contorts as he speaks again, “We learned his name that night from the police, Warren Baker, but we really didn’t know who he was.”

My mom pipes up with pain in her features. “A few days later we got a knock on our door. It was after you had gone to bed. A man in a suit was there. He said his name was David and he was from the office of Senator Darlene Baker. We don’t follow politics much but I had heard her name before and we put it together then that Warren was probably her son. We told him to get the hell away from our house and to let the police handle the investigation.”

“But then he held up a folder and told us the Senator had obtained an advanced copy of Charlotte’s autopsy report. That it had information we’d want to hear,” Dad says.

My eyes flick between them. “So that was when you found out about the drugs?”

Mom nods solemnly while Dad answers, “Yes. Then he launched right into the real reason he was there. Even though the autopsy essentially would clear Warren of any wrong-doing, they didn’t want any of this getting out. He said the public wouldn’t care that it wasn’t Warren’s fault. That they would find a way to spin it into some type of scandal, trying to find any way to bring the Senator down. So he brought an NDA and an offer…”

His voice trails off, like he doesn’t really want to finish, both of their faces laden with shame and embarrassment.

He takes another big breath, getting the courage to spill the truth they both seem to hate so much. “Money,” he practically spits the word. “She was going to pay us… a lot. Listen, all of the hospital and rehab stays from Charlotte put us in a pretty deep hole?—”

“So you took the money?” I ask with a blank face.

Mom jumps in, her features hardened, practically throwing her body in front of Dad and pointing her finger at me. “Eli. We were hurting. So much. Just like you. And we just wanted it all to stop. To mourn privately. So, yes. We signed the NDA and we took the money. We paid for Charlotte’s funeral and used the rest for the medical debt. I’m sorry if you think we shouldn’t have, but?—”

“Mom.” I cut her off, placing my hand over her angry finger in front of me and gently lowering it to the table. “It’s fine. I-I don’t like that she did that, it feels… wrong. But I understand why you took it. I’m not upset.”

Both of their shoulders seem to sag in relief, some of the melancholy leaving their tired bodies.

“Plus, he said they would release the results of Charlotte’s autopsy if we didn’t sign it… so, our hands were kind of tied,” Dad mutters.

“What?” I snarl, my sadness morphing into anger.

Dad nods. “Yep. But the point is, we signed it. So, we couldn’t really share anything with you.”

“You weren’t… angry?”

He shrugs. “Of course. But we were tired. We wanted to start healing—put everything behind us. So we did what we had to and tried our best to move on.”

Mom nods with him. “And your father read over the NDA before we signed. It explicitly stated that we couldn't contact Warren about the autopsy or any of the implications behind the results.”

I lean back in the booth, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to decipher what that could mean. “Why would they even mention not telling Warren? That-that sounds like she didn’t want him to know.” My voice is hesitant and unsure, talking to no one in particular.

Dad adjusts his posture before putting his elbows on the table, leaning toward me. “At the time, we didn’t think anything of it. But now…”

“Yeah,” I say calmly.

“So, now that you know everything. You can make an informed decision,” Mom says quietly.

“An informed decision?” I ask, taken aback. “Like you think I should take him back?”

She shrugs. “I know this might not make a lot of sense to you because of how I reacted when I saw him, but like I said, I’ve never had him in front of me. I had only seen his face in pictures online when we looked his mom up afterward. I was in that town for the first time since it happened. I was raw and on edge. So when I saw him, I just… completely lost my mind.”

I stare at her, bewildered.

I had already shuttered myself. Closed off all possibilities of him and me again. And now, they both come to me and drop an absolute bomb, just like I said they would, completely changing my views of two people.

Charlotte was fighting a battle that I was oblivious to while I accepted all the lies everyone fed me.

And Warren…

I don’t know how to feel.

“I saw how you looked at him. He means a lot to you. But we aren’t suggesting you do anything, honey,” she says, flicking her eyes over to Dad who nods in agreement. “We just wanted you to know the whole truth… which is that Charlotte likely wanted to die that night, and although we will never actually know for sure what happened, it seems like Warren was unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I nod, looking at the table.

I have no idea what to think. That’s my whole fucking life right now—being confused.

I look up at them. “Um… I think I need to go.”

They both frown at me with concern in their expressions. “Are you okay? I know this is a lot of information,” Dad says, hesitantly.

“Yes,” I answer blankly, beginning to scoot out of the booth. “I just… um… I think I have to go do something. I’m fine—I just need to go. I love you both. Thank you for telling me.”

“O-okay, honey. Love you,” Mom says tentatively.

“Love you, bud,” Dad adds.

I turn away from them, making my brisk exit out of the little diner.