I pull into Northside’s ER parking lot and head for the gate by the ticket booth, and Susannah stirs, seeming to realize where she is. “Just pull over,” she says.
“I am,” I say. “Just need to get a ticket and find somewhere to park.”
“No, just pull over.”
“Susannah, I have to—”
“Goddamn it, Ethan, just pull over,” she says, sounding angry and resigned at the same time.
I turn hard right, out of the lane leading into the parking lot, and stop behind a black Lexus in a handicapped spot, just across from the ER entrance. “Okay,” I say, turning to Susannah, “what?”
My phone, mounted on the dash, rings. The screen says Coleman Carter. I must have hung up on him when I ran out the door to save Susannah. I’ll call him back. “Sorry,” I say to Susannah. “What is it?”
“I need to go in,” Susannah says.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “That’s why I was looking—”
“I need to go in alone,” she interrupts. “Without you.”
“What?”
My phone rings again. Coleman. I reject the call.
“I need to do this alone, Ethan,” she says.
“Uh-uh,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m going in there with you.”
“Why?” she says.
“Why? Because I’m your brother. Because I want to help.”
“I know,” she says. “And that’s why I have to go in by myself.”
“I don’t—”
She raises her voice. “I have to do this on my own. My whole life you’ve had to pick up after me, clean up my shit. I just … I need to do this.”
My phone rings a third time. Damn it. I stab at the answer icon, then put the phone on speaker. “I’m really busy here, Coleman.”
“Ethan,” Coleman says, and the tone in his voice is like a cold wind on my neck. “I got Sarah Solomon’s father on the phone. Her mother found her locked in the bathroom, lying on the floor next to the toilet. She took a bunch of pills.”
I stare at the phone, struck dumb by the horror of what he said. “Oh Jesus,” I say.
“She’d thrown them up, thank God,” Coleman continues. “They don’t know exactly what all she took; probably some expired pain meds. They’re on the way to the hospital.” He pauses. “Sarah had her phone with her when her mom found her. I told her parents it wasn’t you on Twitter. I don’t think they care much right now—”
“No, that’s fine, it doesn’t—matter now. God. I—is she okay?”
“She should be,” Coleman says. “Just wanted to let you know. Are you okay?”
I want to sob. “Yeah,” I manage, my voice a bit high. “Yeah. I’m all right. Just—I’m sorry, but can I call you back in just a minute?”
“Yes,” Coleman says. “Call me anytime, Ethan. I’m here.”
I hang up and briefly close my eyes, then open them and turn to Susannah. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay.” The look in her face is bleak, her gaze far away. “I’m sorry about your student.” She takes a breath. “Marisa did something?” she says, still facing forward.
“Yeah. She posted that picture on Twitter, the one she put in my grade book, said it was my student.”
Susannah continues to stare out the windshield. “Was it a naked selfie? No head?”
I frown, confused. “Yeah, but how—”
“It’s me.” She turns then to look at me, and the look in her eyes is bleak and resigned. No, not resigned. Resolved. “I sent Marisa that picture.”
“You sent … why?”
“Told you we were flirting.”
I stare at my sister, unable to think of a response. Someone nearby in the parking lot slams a car door shut.
Susannah nods as if in confirmation, then takes another breath. “Go ahead. I’ve got this. Really.”
I blink, surprised at the shift in conversation, still processing what my sister just told me. “But … you don’t have insurance; I need to help pay—”
“I’m still on Uncle Gavin’s insurance,” she says. She looks at me, her face softening a little. “I’ll call you later,” she says. “Might not be until tomorrow. But if there’s a problem or whatever before then, I’ll call. Honest.”
We sit there in the ER parking lot, looking at each other. My sister’s face is pale and tired, mushroom-colored circles under her eyes, but she still has a strength of will that I can see in her glance, a small but resolute flame. Still I hesitate. “You sure?”
She nods, a sad little movement of her head. Then she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. Before I can react, she’s out the door, closing it behind her and walking toward the ER. She’s halfway across the lot before I think about getting out of the car and following her, but I stay behind the wheel and watch her enter the glass double doors. There’s a nurse at the main desk, and I watch Susannah talk to her. The nurse looks out the glass doors at me, and Susannah turns around and gives me a little wave before turning back to the nurse. Then the nurse comes out from behind the desk and leads Susannah into the waiting room, then through it to a doorway leading back to the ER.
I wipe my eyes and take in a shuddering breath, then another as I watch Susannah walk back into the ER with the nurse. As soon as the ER door swings shut behind them, I start my car and drive off, heading home.
WHEN I GET home, I see Marisa has sent a single text:
I’m not going anywhere, Ethan.
Yes, you are, I think, and I turn off her phone and put it in a drawer.
I talk to Coleman on the phone that night for a good hour. I know he feels guilty about his role in the meeting in Teri’s office earlier today—today? my God, it seems like a thousand years ago—and so listening to me is his self-inflicted penance, but
