Chapter 38 – What Happened Then

Back at the Cullens, Carlisle and Esme disappear into their bedroom and I help Alice carry her gifts inside. She's still buzzing with joy and completely oblivious to the overarching tension. All she wants is for me to sit down and look at every single new Barbie doll and colouring book and hair bow. It feels like hours before Esme appears again.

"Alice sweetie, Carlisle and I want to talk to Emmett for a little bit," Esme says to her gently. "Maybe you could show Edward instead?"

Alice is agreeable enough – she just wants an audience and Edward will do fine. So I leave the two of them sitting on the floor breaking toys out of their plastic packaging, and I follow Esme into the study. She sits on the sofa and pats the seat beside her, and Carlisle pulls out the desk chair and sits on it facing us.

"What did Mara say?" I ask into the lengthening silence. I've never known the Cullens to be at a loss for words like this and my anxiety ramps up.

"It's about your mother," Carlisle says at last. "The police contacted Mara because they found her body…she's dead, Emmett."

Of all the things I thought he might say…this is so unexpected and so absurd that before I can get a grip on myself I actually laugh. "What?"

They don't react to my inappropriate laughter. Esme reaches out to touch my hand but I snatch it away, pressing my teeth hard against my knuckles. "That's…that's crazy. There has to be a mistake."

Carlisle shakes his head. "I don't think so. They've asked that someone formally identify the body, but the police are confident. I spoke to them; they had an anonymous call, and when they investigated they found her body at home."

"So someone called them…to say there was a dead person in the house? And they're sure it's Momma? I mean fuck knows the house is always full of random people," I mutter. "It could be…anyone."

"I'm sorry Emmett," Carlisle says. "I know this is a lot to take in."

I just can't wrap my head around it. "How?"

"There will have to be a post mortem to determine the cause of death, but the initial findings suggest that it was possibly an overdose," Carlisle says evenly.

"Who called them? I don't get it…why wouldn't they help her?" I bite down on my fist.

"The call came from a payphone downtown," Carlisle tells me. "Whoever it was just said that there was a body and gave the address, that's all. They didn't give any other details…if it was drug related then it seems likely that they just didn't want to get involved. Whether they were there and saw it happen or just found her afterwards…we don't know."

"I called her so many times today," I say dazedly. "I thought she should say happy birthday to Alice and I was so mad when she never called back…but she was dead? Like…really?"

"The authorities would like someone to formally confirm her identity," Carlisle says a little hesitantly. "You're Maddie's next of kin, but you're a minor and Mara said she can do it if you would rather not."

"We don't want you to do anything that is going to make this more difficult," Esme says gently. "If you think seeing her body at this point would be too hard, you don't have to."

I stare at her blankly. More difficult? I don't feel anything except a kind of distant surprise. Is this really happening?

"No," I say slowly. "I want to…I mean, I have to make sure. I just can't believe…I have to see that there's not a mistake."

Carlisle nods. "I understand. I can take you over there now if you'd like. As for Alice…"

"I want to tell her," I say abruptly. "I want to talk to her, but only after…only when I'm sure."

Alice…How do I tell you this, Monkey? What is this going to mean for you? For both of us?

"I'll tell Alice that you two are going out to get something for dinner. She's had a big day; I don't think she'll ask any questions," Esme says, and Carlisle nods in agreement.

"That's a good idea. Hopefully we won't be too long, and then we can all sit down and talk it through with her."

I follow Carlisle out to the garage and hunch silently in the front seat of the Mercedes, gnawing mindlessly on my fist as he drives. "Where are we going?" I ask eventually.

"To the medical examiner's office at the city morgue."

The sense of unreality heightens as I remember all the tv and movie scenes I've ever seen of people identifying bodies. I think of cold steel tables and sheets pulled back over waxen faces and surly detectives in suits and the knot in my stomach tightens into pain.

But then when it comes down to it, it isn't even like that. There's no brightly lit tiled room or sheet covered body behind a curtain. Instead there's a an office with neutral walls and soft lighting, and I sit at a table with Carlisle and a woman holding a manila envelope, who introduces herself as Diane and says that she's a grief counsellor.

"Firstly let me say I'm so sorry for your loss. We know what a difficult time this is, and we really want to make this process of identification as easy and straightforward as possible," Diane says. "So I'm going to talk you through what we have to do here, and then we can take as long as you need."

I nod, but don't say anything, and after a few beats of silence she goes on.

"I have a couple of photos for you to look at. There is one of her face, and one of a tattoo. She won't look exactly the same as she did when she was alive, but there are no marks or injuries or anything graphic. Okay?" Diane places the folder on the table between us. "Once you've confirmed identity we can talk about what happens next. There's no rush, just take a look when you're ready."

There's no reason to rush but there's no point in waiting either, so without pause I slide the folder closer and open it up, revealing the photo inside. The blank, blue-white face is unmistakeably Momma, but even seeing that and feeling the truth of her death clunk into place doesn't shake my sense of detachment.

"Yeah, it's her."

I flip to the second photo. Momma's tattoo- my name and Alice's surrounded by flowers and stars, inked on her shoulder. My name and the stars were done first, by some drunk dude at a party, and are blurred and blown out now but she had a proper artist do the rest of it and the lines are clear and sharp against the odd colour of the skin.

"What's that bruise from?"

"It's not bruising. After death, blood will settle in the lowest part of the body, leaving the skin that colour," Carlisle explains.

"Okay." I close the folder. "That's Momma…am I done now?"

"If you could sign these?" Diane gives me some forms and I scrawl my name where she points without reading it. "The medical examiner will have to do some tests to establish what caused your mother's death, and after that her body will be released to the funeral home and you'll be able to make arrangements for a funeral."

Funeral arrangements? I glance over at Carlisle and he nods at me reassuringly.

"We'll take care of it Emmett, don't worry."

"Do you have any questions?" Diane asks.

I shake my head. "I just…I really want to go home." The featureless office is starting to feel claustrophobic and I get to my feet, heading towards the door. "I can't…I really have to get outside." Without waiting for a response, I stumble into the hallway and bolt.

Carlisle catches up to me in the parking lot a few moments later. I'm leaning against the Mercedes and chewing on my fist, and he gently takes it from my mouth, holding onto my hand for a moment longer than necessary.

"Are you okay?"

I shrug. "I don't know." I feel like I'm looking at the world from behind glass; I can see and hear everything, but somehow it's all removed. Nothing seems quite real.

Carlisle unlocks the car and we get in, but he doesn't drive off immediately. "They should be able to do the post mortem tomorrow," he says quietly. "Preliminary results will be available fairly shortly after that, although the final report won't be completed until after toxicology testing is done and that can take anything up to a few months. Her body will be released once the initial exam is done though, so we can make funeral arrangements."

"It was probably an overdose though, right? Was that what they said?"

"Maddie was found with drug paraphernalia close by and no other immediately obvious cause of death so, especially given her history, an overdose seems the most likely explanation," Carlisle says. "But there will be a thorough investigation, to make sure that nothing has been overlooked."

My teeth pick restlessly at my knuckles. "I don't know why I'm even surprised. The last time I saw her she was so fucked up…what else was going to happen when she refused to stop? But I still don't…oh fuck, I don't even know what I'm trying to say."

"You're in shock," Carlisle says gently. "It's your mother…it's okay to not really know how to react."

"Yeah." I stare out the window as he pulls away from the morgue and we head back towards home. "I guess I have to tell Alice. Damn, what a way to end her birthday."

"If you wanted to wait until tomorrow morning…"

For a moment I'm tempted, but then I shake my head a little reluctantly. "I can't. I'm not that good an actor to pretend like nothing is wrong."

And Alice is perceptive, at least when it comes to me. When we get back to the Cullens' she's playing with her new toys in the living room, but when she sees me drop down onto the sofa she comes over to me and frowns suspiciously.

"I thought you were bringing back pizza for dinner?"

"Oh…I guess we forgot," I mumble.

"We can get pizza delivered for dinner if that's what you want," Esme says, coming into the living room with Carlisle. "But Emmett and Carlisle and I need to talk to you first, Alice." Esme sits on the sofa beside me, and Carlisle sits on the floor at her feet.

Alice picks up on the atmosphere and climbs into my lap, leaning against my shoulder and putting her thumb in her mouth. She looks scared, and my heart lurches. This just seems so unfair…hasn't she dealt with enough?

"It's Momma," I say eventually, realising that Carlisle and Esme are waiting for me to take the lead on this.

"Is it that she forgot my birthday?" Alice asks quickly. "Because I don't even care Emmett. I had the best birthday ever with my party and my new bike."

"It's not that." I shake my head. "Momma couldn't have done anything about your birthday because…because she died. Momma's dead Monkey."

For a moment all I can hear is the faint sucking noise of Alice's thumb in her mouth as she turns and buries her face in my chest.

"What was that?" I ask, hearing some muffled words.

"I didn't mean it to actually happen!" Alice raises terrified eyes to mine. "When I said about if Mommy died I could stay here…I didn't mean I wanted Mommy to really die!"

I wrap my arms around her "I know that. What you said doesn't have anything to do with what happened."

"But I wished and wished that Mommy would stay away," she whispers to me. "I wanted it to always be just like this, you and me living with Esme and Carlisle and Edward, and no Mommy. I wanted this to happen…everything bad happens because of me." And her face crumples and I hold her harder as cries.

"It's not your fault," I say fiercely. "It's not, Monkey - sometimes shit just happens. You didn't do anything wrong. You can't make things happen just by wishing for them. It's okay that you just wanted Momma to go away, and it's okay that you wanted to stay here…fuck it, I wanted that too!"

And even though I think I'm crying too now, mostly all I feel is rage. Because Momma has hurt Alice so much, so many times, and done so much damage…and now she's dead and it's still happening.

"This happened because Momma made her own shitty choices, do you understand? You never did anything Alice. You should have had a mom who looked after you, and you didn't. And that's her fault, not yours. Momma dying…it doesn't have anything to do with you. It happened because she did stupid and dangerous things, and this time she went too far."

Alice cries more then, sobs shaking her skinny little body as I hold her hard against me and tell her again and again that it will be okay. Even though I don't know that it will be. But she trusts me, and when he tears slow down she wipes her face against my tshirt and looks up at me uncertainly.

"How did she die?" she asks at last.

"Probably drugs," I say baldly. "We don't know for sure, but probably that."

"Will she have a funeral?"

"I guess." I look over at Esme, who nods reassuring.

"You and Emmett can decide what you want to do about that, and we'll arrange it," she tells Alice. "You should have a way to say goodbye to your mommy."

"Can me and Emmett still stay here with you?" Alice asks, her voice trembling.

Esme has tears glimmering in her eyes. "Of course you can…there's no reason for you to leave now."

And Alice cries again, crawling off my lap and into Esme's open embrace. Carlisle's arms are big enough to wrap around both of them, and I turn away and bury my face in the arm of the sofa, listening to Alice cry and Esme and Carlisle murmur words of comfort.

Part of me wants to be like Alice, to be able to cry and be hugged and comforted and reassured. But it's just not that simple. My disbelief is giving way to a bone deep rage that Momma has done this to Alice and me, that she's put us last again and now she's gone and we're alone. After everything else she's done, after everything she's fucked up…once again I'm picking up the pieces and fixing up her shit and I hate her for it.

It hurts. Anger and confusion and a growing sense of betrayal…I wrap one arm over my head to block out the softness of Carlisle and Esme's words, and bite on my fist hard, again and again, until all I can feel and think about is the pain of my knuckles. It's excruciating, but at the same time it's easier and I embrace it, because anything is better than feeling the way Momma's death is making me feel.

I don't know how long I stay on the sofa, wrapped up in my own furious, hurting misery. But I don't sit up until there's the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder and Carlisle's voice saying my name.

I lift my head, catching him wince when he sees my hands. It's only then that I realise that I've literally shredded the skin over my knuckles, and I furiously slam my fist into the sofa cushion.

"I am so fucking disgusting."

"Emmett." Carlisle grabs my hands, holding them tight in his and looking at me with eyes so full of compassion that I have to look away. "Please…it's okay."

"I hate that I do that." I'm having a hard time catching my breath. "I hate how I feel right now."

"There's no right way to feel when something like this happens," he says softly. "There's no right away to react. Grief is hard…you're going to hurt. You have to give yourself time."

"I'm so angry with her."

"And that's okay. It's normal," Carlisle says.

"She didn't have to do this. Okay, she probably didn't do it on purpose but it's not like anyone ever forced drugs down her. She could have stopped any time and she didn't. She just kept going…why? Why didn't she love us enough to stop?" My voice cracks.

Carlisle doesn't try to give me an answer, and I'm glad. Instead her puts a strong arm across my shoulders and hugs me, and I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes, tasting blood on my fist and bitterness in my heart.