Page 44 of The Singing Trees
“I want to explain myself,” Annalisa said softly, stepping farther into the room uninvited. The walls were a mustard yellow, and other than the records scattered across the floor, the room was clean and orderly. She could see the sailboat through the window behind Emma.
“I get that you’re hurting,” she said, “but I don’t want you to think we’re leaving you. The first thing we talked about was how excited we were to get you down to Portland...as often as you’d like.”
Without even a glance Annalisa’s way, Emma said, “You’re taking him from me.”
Not surprised by the accusation, Annalisa took another step, noticing Emma seemed off in some way. Was her anger causing her glazed eyes and slurred speech? “You’re seeing it wrong. I’m not taking him from you at all. We’re good together, the three of us. Our moving doesn’t change that. We’ll still see each other all the time. I love your brother, Emma. Surely you can understand that.”
“Oh, I understand it all right.”
The Beatles song ended, leaving only the crackle of the record. Emma unfolded and put her bare feet onto the rug. “He doesn’t even see me anymore since you showed up,” she snarled. “He’s leaving me and it’s your fault!”
“That’s not true,” Annalisa said, unable to believe this was the same girl who’d painted with her on the front porch, the one who’d spoken of a forest of singing trees. “I’ve never seen a brother love a sister like he does you, and nothing will ever stop that. There’s room for both of us, you know?” Still a few feet away, Annalisa knelt down so as not to be intimidating. Though she was trying to act calm, she was burning inside. “Are you okay?”
Emma turned her glazed eyes her way. “I can’t stand you, and I hated painting with you. You’re not even that good.”
“I know you don’t mean that.” The girl’s words hurt.
The music started up again, the Fab Four singing “Carry That Weight.” Emma sloppily pushed up from the seat. Annalisa wondered if Emma was about to attack her. Instead, the young girl wobbled and dropped to the floor.
Instantly terrified, Annalisa rushed to her. “What’s going on with you?” The music was so loud suddenly, making the situation even more tense.
Back on the chair she saw a pill bottle, and a tremendous fear seemed to wrap its fingers around her throat. She grabbed the bottle and read the typed print. Under Elizabeth Barnes’s name, Annalisa found the prescription: Valium.
Running on adrenaline, she pulled Emma up onto her lap and steadied her face, patting her cheek to wake her. Her eyes were open, but she was long gone. Out of pure instinct, she pushed her fingers into Emma’s mouth, feeling and searching for pills.
“How many pills did you take?” she asked.
“What does it matter?” Emma slurred. “I’m not living here alone. Why do you care?” Her glazed eyes rolled into the back of her head. “I’m making it easier on everyone...”
Emma seemed to be losing consciousness, and her eyes closed.
“Thomas!” Annalisa screamed, trying not to completely lose it. “I need help!”
She wasn’t sure what to do but needed to act quickly. After screaming for help again, knowing this house was too damn big for her voice to carry across it, she decided maybe she could get the girl to throw up. Not that she had any training, but it was worth a try before she left her to find help. Emma rolled over without any resistance, and Annalisa thrust two fingers down her throat.
“Emma,” she said desperately, “you have to help me here. You need to throw up.”
The girl mumbled incoherence.
“Thomas!” Annalisa yelled, hearing the fright in her voice.
Emma heaved, as if she were choking, and Annalisa pushed her fingers deeper down her throat. Then up it came, Emma’s vomit spilling out onto the rug. Annalisa saw melted orange pills and syrupy orange liquid amid the muck.
Knowing there was nothing else she could do, Annalisa pushed up to a stand. “I’m getting help, Emma. Be right back.” She raced out of the room.
Straight off the golf course, Mr.Barnes came running into the waiting room of the Davenport Medical Center. “Where is she?” Fear and anger gripped his words. A grass stain striped the cuff of his right pant leg, and his golf glove poked out of his back pocket.
Thomas and Annalisa had been at the hospital for an hour and sat in one of the chairs that lined the wall, half of which were occupied by people anxiously awaiting more news about their loved ones. The room reeked of bleach, sickness, and sadness.
Upon hearing Mr.Barnes’s voice, they both looked up. Thomas pointed down the hallway to their right. “Room 301. With Mom. She’s okay, Dad. Annalisa saved her life.”
Mr.Barnes gave a viciously angry shake of the head and ran past the front desk and pushed through the swinging doors.
Thomas slumped over, and Annalisa put her hand on his back. She didn’t have much left to say, but she hated that he felt responsible. It was almost all he’d talked about since they’d arrived at the hospital. Thank God, Emma was stable. The doctors had pumped her stomach and given her fluids. She was now talking.
Annalisa felt responsible too. How couldn’t she? No, she hadn’t given Emma the pills, but Annalisa had known all along Emma wouldn’t take the news of their moving to Portland well. She should have beenthere when Thomas broke the news to Emma. Or maybe she should never have asked Thomas to go in the first place. She felt so incredibly torn apart inside, and her heart hurt for Emma, knowing that she’d taken such a horrific step to end her life. It was an action that would be hard to ever leave in the past.
As they sat there in silence, doubt filled her mind. That morning she was all in, but she couldn’t shake seeing Emma’s face as she lost consciousness, her vomit spilling out of her mouth.
