Free Detached by Christina Kilbourne Page A

teenage girl? I never quite knew when she was going to throw back a joke if I teased or when she was going to give me that withering look of contempt and storm off to her room. But I remembered being the same when I was sixteen, so I did my best not to overreact. I didn’t want her to have an excuse to build barriers between us. Without my mother to mediate, I knew I needed to save whatever connection we had.
    I didn’t say another word about her painting, but I wrapped it back up in plastic and stored it in the attic where it wouldn’t get damp. I thought maybe someday we could get it framed and hang it in the dining room, but for the time being she didn’t need it staring at her during family dinners. She never once asked what happened to it and I think, with everything else going on, we forgot about that lonely girl standing in the middle of a misty bridge.
    That fall though, life with Anna became unpredictable. It was more than just being moody. For the first time she started to act out of character. It wasn’t simply that she missed a class or lied about the painting. Late one night she came home soaked from head to toe. It wasn’t only strange because she arrived home wet in the middle of the night, it was also strange because she wasn’t supposed to be coming home at all. She had plans to sleep over at a girlfriend’s house.
    My husband was away on business and I was alone, so I had Sherlock in the bedroom with me. It was close to midnight when I heard him push open the bedroom door and run downstairs. When he didn’t bark, I knew it was Anna or Joe and that, in either case, something was wrong. I turned on the bedroom light, wrapped a robe around myself, and headed quickly down the hall. The front entrance was in complete darkness so I flipped on the light switch. Anna was in the front entrance, bent over taking off one of her running shoes while Sherlock licked her ear.
    â€œSweetheart! Are you okay?” I asked.
    She looked up quickly and I could tell I’d startled her.
    â€œI’m fine,” she muttered. Then she tackled the other shoe.
    It took me a second to realize why she was struggling so much. The shoes were wet, her jeans were wet, her jean jacket was wet. I could tell her hair had been wet too. And she was shivering from the cold. I rushed over to help her out of her wet jacket but she pulled away.
    â€œI’ll get it,” she said.
    â€œWhat happened to you?”
    â€œI’m fine,” she repeated.
    I could smell beer on her and I felt my pulse race. I wasn’t sure if I should be worried or angry and since both emotions were swelling inside me, I didn’t have a chance of staying calm.
    â€œAnna!” I said too sharply. “You’re soaked and you smell like beer. It’s almost midnight. I deserve to know what’s going on.”
    â€œI fell in the water.”
    That’s when I noticed her lips were blue and she was having a hard time talking.
    â€œI’ll start the shower. You need to get warmed up.”
    She finished peeling off her wet clothes while I went to the bathroom and started the shower. I got a clean towel and put it on the vanity, then checked the temperature of the water. As I left the bathroom, Anna brushed past me in her wet underwear. I could see goosebumps on her arms.
    â€œGet yourself good and warm, then we can talk,” I said. Then I left the bathroom and closed the door.
    Even though I was desperate to know what happened, I told myself the most important thing was that she was safe. I made myself breathe deeply and count to ten so I wouldn’t go back into the bathroom and try to talk through the shower curtain. I knew if I pressed her it would only make things worse. Instead, I went and picked up her wet clothes from the floor by the front door. Her shoes were muddy and there were bits of dead leaves stuck to them. I bundled the entire mess in my arms and dumped it in the laundry