CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE (FINAL)
Sabine died so suddenly. Nobody saw it coming. And part of why Mom and Dad had to blame Connor, well I understand that now. As Dad told me after the police sorted everything out, and after Nick—who will be tried as an adult for narcotics distribution with intent to harm, as well as kidnapping—was safely locked up, “Worse than having a child die is living with the fact that you couldn’t protect her. Blaming Connor made it easier, somehow.”
When my parents found out the truth about Sabine, her pregnancy, the abuse from Nick and all of her mind games, it was hard on them, like they had this daughter with a secret life. Dr. Stern though, I have to say, he really helped with it all. The “I-statements,” the sharing our anger and sadness. It’s like we’re different now—a small, less scattered family. Dad’s calmer, Mom’s less preoccupied. And me? I have the Volvo back. I got my license the week after school got out, and the first thing I did was take Nona to bingo at Holy Redeemer. “This car, it suits you, Nipote,” she said as we crisscrossed North Portland. I slapped one of those EARTH bumper stickers where the ART part of the word is called out in red, I slapped it right over the Trample the weak. Hurtle the dead. I want to know that Nick’s tagline is under mine. That, in the end, Nick was the weak one.
Tonight, there’s a party for Connor. A going away bash that his parents are throwing him. Suddenly, the boy’s a hero. But, he’s still going to Bend. As he put it, “A summer away might be just what I need. I haven’t seen my dad in a while, and, you know, he’s all about the 12-step life now. Might do me good.”
“Seems there’s a bit of that going around,” I offered.
Maybe that’s the new rite of passage for middle age. Belief in a power greater than oneself and swearing off booze.
As for me, I’m just happy junior year is over. And, as it turns out, I’ll be spending my eighteenth birthday in Florence, Italy. Mom’s secret? It wasn’t a lover after all. She’d been planning a surprise for me, going behind my back for letters of recommendation from Bowerman, McConnell, and even Lilith Cupworth. Things are not always what they seem. I’ll be attending the Young Artists Summer Abroad Program, working with some of the best art teachers in the world, walking the same streets as the masters did, centuries ago.
And, as it turns out, I might see Martha on those same cobblestone streets. Rose Festival Queens travel, apparently, spreading the gospel of Portland, and all its wonders. Martha is now into yoga instead of Xanax, and she keeps telling me and Connor—and that scoop-seeking reporter, Rory Davis—that she owes us her life.
Heroics aside, I have a sketch to finish up at the Cupworth Studio. There’s an element to the Connor sketch I need to add. An homage, I guess. Sort of like The Last Supper, where da Vinci wrote a story on his canvas. The last moment of grace before the fall. I need to put Sabine back on top. Her gorgeously arched form, the perfect balance, a foot cupped in her partner’s hand. The moment before.
the end
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The Moment Before
Teen FictionBrady and Sabine Wilson are sisters born eleven months apart, but they couldn’t be more different. 17-yr old Brady is an artist, a bit of a loner, and often the odd-girl out. Her older sister, a senior, is the center of attention at Greenmeadow High...
