Chapter 5 - THE THING BROOKE CALLED NIGHT-NIGHT JUICE
Tessa came to Claire’s house Monday evening carrying groceries she hadn’t been asked to buy.
Claire almost sent her away.
Then Brooke climbed from the passenger side holding a handmade card for Maisie.
That stopped her.
The girls sat on the living-room rug while Lucas made grilled cheese in the kitchen.
Claire kept the visit short.
No discussion of Saturday.
No adults raising their voices.
No questions directed at Brooke.
That rule lasted seventeen minutes.
Brooke was helping Maisie put plastic animals into a toy barn when Maisie wandered toward the kitchen and pointed at a bottle of children’s fever reducer on top of the refrigerator.
“No sleepy,” Maisie said.
Claire stopped breathing.
Tessa closed her eyes.
Brooke looked between them.
“Grandma’s sleepy medicine tastes better than that.”
Tessa immediately said, “Brooke.”
The child looked confused.
Claire forced her voice to stay normal.
“What do you mean, honey?”
Tessa stood.
“Claire, don’t question her.”
“I asked one question.”
“You know children services might interview her.”
“Exactly.”
Lucas appeared from the kitchen.
“What’s happening?”
Brooke answered him.
“Grandma has night-night juice.”
Tessa’s face lost its color.
Claire didn’t ask anything else.
She didn’t need to.
After the girls ate, Claire stepped outside with Tessa.
The humid Ohio evening smelled like fresh-cut grass.
“How long?”
Tessa stared toward the street.
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“Brooke has always been a terrible sleeper.”
“Tessa.”
“When I started closing shifts at the store, Mom sometimes kept her there in the office.”
“How old was she?”
“Four.”
Claire covered her mouth.
“Did you know?”
“Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
Tessa’s voice became defensive.
“It was allergy medicine. Half the parents I knew used it on road trips or flights.”
“For allergies.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
Tessa spun toward her.
“You think I’m proud of this?”
“I think you let them do it to your daughter.”
“I was twenty-nine, divorced, making fourteen dollars an hour, and Dad threatened to cut my schedule every time I couldn’t find childcare.”
Claire stared at her.
Tessa wiped angrily at her eyes.
“Mom said it was harmless. Brooke slept. I worked. My rent got paid.”
“And then you gave it to Maisie.”
“Because Mom told me you already did.”
Claire looked through the window.
Lucas was cutting Maisie’s sandwich into ridiculous tiny squares because she refused triangles.
“How many times did Mom give it to Brooke?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than five?”
Tessa didn’t answer.
“More than ten?”
Still nothing.
Claire felt sick.
“What was Dad’s role?”
“He knew.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Tessa folded her arms.
“Dad cared about one thing: customers never seeing family problems at the store.”
Claire remembered Warren’s message.
THE STORE DOESN’T NEED THIS KIND OF ATTENTION.
Tessa continued.
“If Brooke melted down during inventory, Dad told Mom to handle it.”
“With medicine.”
“Sometimes.”
“And Saturday?”
Tessa looked back toward the house.
“Saturday was different.”
“How?”
“Maisie didn’t stay asleep.”
May you like
Claire waited.
Tessa whispered, “She kept waking up crying, so Mom kept deciding the last dose hadn’t worked.”
