Read The Thirteen for Free Online

bed. “You’re a danger to yourself and others, Audra.” She went to stand by the window. “You’ll be here as long as it takes to fix the mess we’re in.” The second-floor room faced the mostly deserted parking lot. There was Izzy’s car, and Tula’s car, and a couple of others close to the park at the far end, where there was a ball diamond. There was no sign of the car she was expecting. Not yet. She tugged the curtains shut.
    “Do you remember that time we took the kids to Cranberry Lake for the day? They were … what, about six and seven?” She glanced over at Audra, who was staring elsewhere. “Do you remember we went to the playground and that big fat woman with the four fat little children had commandeered all the swings? We waited awhile, waited for those horrible little children to get off at least one of them so our babies could have a turn.”
    It had been so easy when the kids were little, Izzy thought, and had a painful flash of her and Audra at the picnic tables that day, laughing and drinking coffee from a Thermos. True friends.
    “And finally I went over to the woman and spoke to her. And then those kids got off the swings and went and ate the sand out of the sandbox or whatever and we put our little ones on the swings. Do you remember what you said? You said, Oh, Izzy, you’re so bossy.”
    The room was considerably darker with the curtains closed. It was oddly cosy, or at least that was how Izzy felt, remembering old times.
    “You said I was bossy and I said, ‘People just listen to me.’ ”
    She turned on the bedside lamp.
    “Chick didn’t listen. And like I said, Bill is still dead. Now she’s dead and you’re here. And everyone is in very big trouble.”
    That hung between them for awhile like the patch of light from the lamp.
    “But I have good news too,” Izzy finally said.
    “Izzy, water?” Audra rasped.
    There was a pitcher of cold water and a glass beside Audra’s bed. Condensation had formed on the outside of the pitcher. She took the plastic off the glass and poured water into it. Ice clinked as it hit the sides. Izzy put the pitcher down.
    “I don’t know if you’re allowed,” she said. “You’re not well, you know.” She picked up the glass and took a couple of dainty sips. “That’s very cold. I think it’s too cold.”
    She put the glass back on the table. Audra’s eyes followed it.
    “We’ll let it warm up a little bit.”
    Audra rolled her eyes and shut them. “I know you’re angry. But you need me,” she whispered.
    “I need numbers, and you’re still alive, even if you’re … indisposed.” Izzy flipped on the lamp on the other side of the bed. “You haven’t asked me what the good news is.”
    She leaned in close to Audra and sniffed with interest. “You’re not smelling very fresh, sweetie.”
    “I don’t care,” Audra said.
    “Oh, you will,” Izzy insisted. She looked around the room for anything she could use to spruce up the woman in the bed. She opened the cupboard. Audra’s street things were hanging neatly there, her white boucle suit, a silk full slip, her handbag. On the floor was a pair of pumps, also white. The outfit she’d worn to Bill’s funeral, the day she collapsed. Izzy had ridden in the ambulance with her friend and hung the clothes up herself.
    She took the handbag down from the upper shelf and pawed through it until she found a comb, a compact, a mirror and lipstick. “Here we go,” she said. She sat again on the bed beside Audra.
    “You have to sit up—” and she tugged her friend into position as Audra tried to suppress a gasp. Izzy ran the comb through her hair, tugging lightly at snarls until they came loose.
    She leaned over to whisper close to Audra’s ear. “Someone very special is coming to Haven Woods today.”
    “I don’t want to see anyone like this.”
    “You will. This one is coming home.”
    Audra wasn’t listening. Every one of Izzy’s ministrations elicited another groan.