Trina parked across the street in a handicapped space. She grabbed the heavy camera and scooted out. Sula followed, moving more slowly.
Trina strode up to the group and began filming.
“Where is he?” Sula asked the girl with the blanket.
“There. On the corner.” She pointed with one hand and held on to her covering with the other.
Sula saw Robbie on the edge of the flat roof. He sat cross-legged and stared off into the sky. He seemed oblivious to the group below. Sula wanted to get close enough to talk to him. He wouldn’t be able hear her from the street.
She headed up the stairs. At the second landing, she had to sit so her head would stop spinning. Her body felt as if she’d been beaten with a bat.
On the third floor, three of Robbie’s neighbors had gathered at the end of the balcony. Sula joined them. She couldn’t see Robbie, but she assumed they were close enough to communicate with him.
“Is he responsive?” Sula asked a girl who looked too young to be in college.
“Sometimes.” She turned to look at Sula. “Jesus! What happened to you?”
Sula reflexively touched her forehead, where Rudker had tried to kill her with a flashlight. “It’s a long story.
The students all turned to stare.
“You can see it on the news tonight.” She stepped toward the edge of the balcony. “What does Robbie say? Does he plan to jump?”
“He hasn’t said anything in about ten minutes.” The guy with the buzz cut looked as if he’d been downing whiskey sours. Yet he seemed genuinely concerned.
“I’d like to try talking to him.”
“Be my guest.” Buzz cut stepped aside so Sula could move up to the railing.
The other young man stepped back too and lit a cigarette. The enticing smell of an outdoor smoke on a cold morning flooded Sula with an old desire. “Do you have another one?”
“I don’t. Sorry, man.”
“It’s okay.” She was both disappointed and relieved.
Sula pressed against the railing and called out, “Robbie. It’s Sula Moreno, from Prolabs.”
After a long pause, he responded. “What are you doing here?”
“I have some information that I think will help you.”
“I doubt that.” His voice was quiet but Sula could hear the pain. “Why don’t you and everyone else go away. I just want to die the way I lived. Alone.”
“Are you in a clinical trial for Nexapra?”
A short pause. “How did you know?”
“The drug has problems. It gives some people strong suicidal thoughts.”
Robbie laughed, a harsh sound. “The shrinks all say that isn’t how it works. They don’t believe a drug can make you commit suicide.”
“Mental health problems are complicated. And this drug has a genetic flaw that only affects Hispanic people.”
Robbie unexpectedly scooted into view. Sula was glad to make eye contact, but she didn’t like his proximity to the edge of the roof.
“Why would Prolabs give it to people if they knew that?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“There was some disagreement within the company. Not everyone believed Dr. Warner’s findings.” Sula wanted to keep the conversation away from his father if she could.
“Why should I believe you?”
“I’ve seen the data. I’ve talked to the wives of the men who committed suicide while taking Nexapra. I think it’s the drug making you feel like this. If you stop taking it and start on another antidepressant, you’ll feel better.”
Robbie started to cry. Sula winced. What had she said? She wanted so badly to help him. She couldn’t bear the thought that he would die as a result of his father’s greed.
“Robbie, please come down. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you some help. And a new prescription. Your world will look brighter, I promise.” It was not a promise within her control but she believed it with all her heart.
Robbie continued to cry. After a minute, he stood and stepped toward the ledge. He looked over at her. “My father knows, doesn’t he? He knows the drug has problems, but he doesn’t care. Because it’s going to be a big money maker.”
Sula couldn’t lie to him. The truth would be out there soon enough. “Yes, he knows.”
“What a bastard. I am the son of a bastard. The world would be better off without either of us.”
“No!” Sula couldn’t stay calm. “You are not your father. Just as I am not my father. Or my mother. They were both unhappy and messed up people. My father’s selfish desire to end his life killed both of them. I know all about grief and depression. I lost everybody I ever loved. But I came though it. My life has purpose even though I don’t always know what it is. Yours does too. You just have to give it time. Your life will be better if you fight for it. And if you stop taking Nexapra.”
There was a long silence. The young girl behind her started crying. Sula felt like crying too. It had been quite a day. In the distance, she could hear police sirens coming their way.
“Robbie, come down. You can stay with me for a while. I’ll help you through this. I know a great counselor.”
“Do you have a younger sister?” Then he laughed, a quiet, beautiful sound.
“No, but I know a few young women.” Sula was smiling.
Robbie stepped back from the edge. He moved out of view and they heard his footsteps on the walkway roof above them. He was coming down.
Chapter 40
Monday, May 3, 8:45 a.m.
Sula walked into the courtroom with Barbara at her side. Her lawyer’s sharp black suit and confident stride failed to bolster Sula’s nerve. Her heart quickened just at being there. Courtrooms tended to produce winners and losers, and today she didn’t look or feel like a winner. She’d appraised herself in the mirror before leaving her house and was not all at pleased with what she saw.
Her dark blue skirt and jacket looked as if they’d been borrowed from someone older and heavier, and the collarbone brace could be seen at the base of her neck. A thick slather of foundation across her forehead failed to hide the giant purple-and-yellow bruise, and the gash on her temple was still quite prominent. She looked gaunt from missing so many meals and her eyes were jumpy, like those of a stalking victim. Overall, she was not the picture of physical and mental well-being she wanted to project to the judge.
Barbara took her by the elbow and nudged Sula toward the front bench in the small windowless room. This was a private hearing and only those involved were there. Tate’s foster parents, Emily and John Chapman, were seated on the first bench to the right. Tate sat next to Emily looking very serious in his little grown-up courtroom clothes. He glanced up at her and waved, a bright boyish smile suddenly on his face. Sula’s heart fluttered with joy. In his hand was a little blue transformer toy she’d bought him for his fourth birthday.
She tried to put her thoughts in order before the judge came in. Ever since Rudker had threatened Tate, Sula’s feelings had been in turmoil. She loved her son more than anyone or anything in the world. All that really mattered was for Tate to be safe and happy. She didn’t know if she was the right person to make him happy.
For the hundredth time, her mind played out the what. if scenario. What if the judge gave her custody? Would Tate go home with her today? Or would the judge give the Chapman’s time to gather his things together and have a few days to say goodbye? Either way, what would it be like for a little boy to say goodbye to the people he thought of as parents and loved most in the world?
What would it be like for him to go live in a new home with a woman he had spent less time with than his
