The Escape Artist by Helen Fremont

Author:Helen Fremont [Helen Fremont]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2020-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

eleven

Labor Day 1980

The following fall, before starting my last year of law school, I spent the Labor Day weekend with a friend on Martha’s Vineyard. We walked for miles along the shore, swam in the ocean, and talked late into the evenings. Obeying my family’s rule of secrecy, I didn’t mention a word to her about my summer—I had been exiled from home by my parents, who were still caring for Lara around the clock. The last time I’d called home, Lara had grabbed the phone from my mother and screamed that she would kill me, and Mom too, if I ever called again.

The Labor Day traffic back to Boston was heavy. When I finally pulled up in front of my apartment, I froze. There in my parking space was my mother’s Plymouth. Lara’s killed herself, I thought. She’s finally done it. I jumped out of the car and ran up the steps. Breathe. I fumbled with the keys, then burst into the apartment. My mother was lying on my bed reading the New Yorker, and rose to greet me.

“Hi, darling,” she said pleasantly. “Your landlady let me in. She’s very nice.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” My mother gave me a hug and took my knapsack from my shoulder, as if it were the most natural thing for her to be in my apartment on a Monday afternoon.

“What are you doing here?”

My mother shrugged. “I just thought I’d come for the weekend.”

Mom had never shown up unannounced before. She sidestepped past me into the little kitchen. “I’ll make tea,” she said. “Are you hungry?” She flipped on the electric hot plate and filled the kettle with water.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I asked.

My mother shrugged. “I didn’t even know till Saturday morning, and when I called, there was no answer.”

“I’d just left for the Vineyard—”

“It’s all right,” Mom said. “I was fine here. I had a very nice time. I read and relaxed.”

“Mom, what’s going on? Is Lara okay?”

She narrowed her eyes and picked her words carefully. “Well… last week was very difficult. But everything is all right now. I think I’ll be able to go home tomorrow.”

I didn’t know what to make of this. My mother didn’t just drive three hours across Massachusetts and show up out of the blue for no reason. The last time I’d seen her was three months ago, when I’d driven home for the summer. Before I could even get out of the car, she and Dad had intercepted me in the driveway. “You can’t stay here,” Mom had said. “Lara is too unstable. She’s very angry at you.” Stunned, I’d driven back across the river, got a room at the Y, and started my summer clerkship in Troy the next day.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked my mother now.

“He’s fine. He’s at home.”

“And Lara?”

“She left for Burlington this afternoon. She’s going back to medical school.”

My mother set two cups on the table and poured the tea. “You see, darling,” she said, “last week with Lara, it was very touch-and-go.

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