Dead in the Water by Glenda Carroll

accident might be related…maybe caused by the same thing?”
    “It crossed my mind when I got your call. I’ve asked the lab to run some tests. I should know more later.”

    I stayed at the hospital for a few hours waiting for test results. But, eventually I left without them and came home to a dark house. Lena was asleep. For that I was grateful; I didn’t want to talk about yet another accident. I was hoping that the long drive to and from Santa Cruz, and the time at the hospital would be enough to keep me asleep all night. No such luck. I was up at 2:00 a.m.
    Accompanied by the hamster running track on his revolving wheel in my head, I walked into the living room and stared at the one family picture my sister had displayed on the dark end table. Dad and Mom connected. In the photo, you could see it in the look in their eyes and their smiles in as they glanced at each other, but kept a death grip on each of us. It was taken at the Marin County Fair years ago by one of their friends. I was eating cotton candy and pulling away from Dad’s outstretched hand. I must have been about 10-years-old. Mom had hold of the back of Lena’s tee shirt as she tried to go in the opposite direction. Just two years old, Lena had the determination of an angel running from hell. We stood in front of a Ferris wheel. Mom and Dad were enjoying each other, the fair and us.
    I picked the photo up and carried it over to the couch. Holding it was comforting. There were good times—once. None of us in that picture knew that the next five years would change everything.
    I looked at the photo for a long time, then I put it back on the table, walked back to my room and fell into a deep quiet sleep.
    In the morning, I could hear Lena banging pots around in the kitchen—not the ‘Hey, I’m busy enjoying myself cooking’ kind of banging, but rather, the ‘I’m going to knock the shit out of this pan’ kind of banging.
    Something was clearly wrong.
    “Lena?” I stood in the doorway. “What is the matter?”
    “You. You’re the matter.”
    “Excuse me. I’m the matter? What does that mean?”
    “Just the other night—you drop this comment that you’ve been involved with the police somehow. What happened?”
    “It’s none of your business.”
    “I’ve been thinking of all the things you could have done. Each one gets worse than the rest. Tell me. You couldn’t have been drinking and driving…you barely drink. I can’t believe you hurt anyone.”
    “No, I didn’t.”
    “Then what?”
    “Okay.” I sat down at the kitchen table and motioned for her to do the same.
    “Before Brad walked out, we spent a lot of our evenings at the sports bars close by our house.”
    “But…”
    “Let me finish. Brad seemed so restless. He would go to bars without me. I didn’t like that. So I went with him and we drank together—a big happy family or rather a small drunk unhappy family.
    “One night I was the designated driver. I ran into two parked cars and did extensive damage.”
    “Trish.”
    “There’s more. When Brad left, I continued drinking, mostly at home. I picked up another DUI. I actually spent some time in the county jail.”
    “No…not you.”
    “Yes, me. The judge sentenced me to attend AA meetings. I wasn’t crazy about the idea, but I went. It wasn’t so bad and things began to change. I have to tell you, though, when I see a police car, I get very nervous. I want to stay as far away from the law as possible.”
    Lena looked stunned. “I don’t know what to say.”
    She stood up and walked out the backdoor, heading for her garden. Picking up a hand rake, she attacked the few straggly weeds growing next to her tomato plants. Then she tossed the small garden tool as hard as she could at the tall wooden fence.
    With a sigh, I headed for the front door. What would she say if she knew about my part in the local burglaries so many years ago?
    The tree-lined streets were quiet, except for a few joggers out before the