Chapter Twenty-One
Natalie

Here’s what happened: I was arrested and went to court. I was sentenced to rehab and an insurmountable fine that Glenn Augustus begrudgingly (I can only assume) paid, and Rochelle came up and changed my daughter without my permission. I also received a lovely severance letter from JCC.

I was in there for a year. It was no Betty Ford. There was no pool or hot tub or sessions with a masseuse who could work my problems right out of me. There was food that tasted like cardboard, and for whatever reason, lunch and dinner was served with a broccoli cauliflower mix that made my eyes water. Dr. Carol wasn’t ominous or a pain in the rear or anything. She was just doing her job. And she did teach me a lot about myself, whether I wanted to hear it or not.

After the first three months, Wren was allowed to visit me. I wanted to see her alone, but Rochelle never got that hint. I could sense something in her. She’d claw her hand around Wren’s shoulder and stiffen her lip. I was the enemy. The bad monster who would wreck her precious granddaughter.

How easily Rochelle forgot that Wren was mine.

I vowed to get better. No more alcohol. It just wasn’t an option. And I had to get all the anger out of my head so I wrote letters to Mack, Dennis, Rochelle, and Mary that Dr. Carol helped me burn. I wrote one to Wren that I still have in the back of my closet.

All these things didn’t make me feel one iota better. But I was really good at pretending they did.

When I got out, Rochelle went home. She tried to stay. She tried to make it seem like I’d need her to get back on my feet when all I really needed was for her to leave us alone.

I didn’t know about the baptism until right before she flew home, and Wren chimed in, telling me she’d been dunked in a cold tank of water.

“And how did that make you feel?” I asked after Rochelle had finally left, channeling my innermost Dr. Carol.

“Good. It’s because of Jesus,” she said, and I tried to keep from gnawing holes in my cheeks.

“Oh, is that right? You know, Wren, sometimes adults have us do things that we might not want to do. You don’t have to go back to that church anymore,” I said, applauding how progressive I was. We weren’t going to let the past or bad religion determine our fate. In fact, I was pumping myself up to call up my old boss, Tara, at JCC and get my job back. Dr. Carol would vouch for me. And as she pointed out, I hadn’t changed. If anything, I’d been renewed. Whatever that meant.

“But I want to go.”

“Oh honey, you’re too young to know what you want,” I whispered gently in her ear.

From that point on, that was something only I and I alone would determine.