The Girls from Corona del Mar by Rufi Thorpe

Author:Rufi Thorpe [Thorpe, Rufi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-385-35197-3
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2014-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Intervention

“It was probably only because McDonough liked my mom so much that they didn’t press charges,” Lor said. All of her earlier giddiness was drained away. Her eyes were glassy and distant.

“For what?” I asked, outraged.

“For negligence. Neglect.”

“That’s insane. What were you supposed to do? So then what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Lor said. “He’s in foster care. A group home. Basically a nursing home.”

I sat at the table with her then, just watching. She was leaning with her forearms on the tabletop, her shoulders hunched up around her ears as she squeezed at one of her cuticles. She had bitten it until it bled and now was trying to assess the damage. She blinked several times, as though her eyeballs were drying out. I got the sense that she was barely present.

“Did you appeal?”

Lor shook her head, still looking only at her bleeding cuticle.

“Well, that’s the first thing we can do,” I said. “Listen, I was going to head back to the States anyway. I could come stay in California and help you get this all worked out.” Of course this trip to the States was being fabricated by me as I spoke the words. It did seem reasonable, in a way, to go back to the States for the abortion. It might be nice to have Lorrie Ann as an excuse. Just in case I decided not to tell Franklin. Just in case I needed, for some reason, to keep it to myself.

“I don’t want to appeal,” Lorrie Ann said, very softly.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t go back to living that way.”

“Of course. We’ll get you proper help. Maybe an in-home nurse or something.”

“Mia,” Lorrie Ann said.

“We can do this,” I insisted.

“No.”

She looked up at me with eyes so empty and blue, I almost dropped my teacup. I felt immediate shame. I was like a child playing with a doll, trying to prop Lorrie Ann up at the tea party that was her ruined life, just so that I could avoid the pain of having to admit that it was ruined—and that Lorrie Ann was nothing more than a limp doll, a corpse upon the wall.

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