Brain Child by John Saul Page A

mother, who reached out to brush a stray hair from her brow. “It was my fault, Mom,” she said, her voice bleak. “It was all my fault.”
    “We’re not going to go over it all again,” Carol told her. “I’ve heard the whole story too many times already. If you want to feel guilty, you can feel guilty about talking Alex into going to that party. But that’s
all
you can feel guilty about. It was Alex who drank the beer, and it was Alex who was driving the car.”
    “But he had to swerve—”
    “Only because he was driving too fast.
He
caused the accident, Lisa. Not you.”
    “But … but what if he dies?”
    Carol bit her lip, then took a deep breath. “If he dies, then we will all feel very badly for a while. Ellen and Marsh will feel badly for a long time. But the world won’t end, Lisa. And if Alex does die, that won’t be your fault any more than the accident was your fault.”
    “But Carolyn Evans said—”
    “Carolyn Evans is a selfish, spoiled brat, and you weren’t the only one who heard her say it was all your fault. I’ve talked to Bob Carey and Kate Lewis tonight, and they both told me exactly what Carolyn meant. She meant that if you hadn’t left the party, then Alex wouldn’t have either, and that the accident might not have happened. And do you know what she was worried about? Not you, and not Alex. The only thing that concerned darling Carolyn was the fact that her party was no longer going to be her little secret. Also, as far as I know, Carolyn was the only person at the party who didn’t bother to go to the Center last night. All she did was go home and try to clean up the house.”
    “It doesn’t make any difference what she meant,” Lisa said, rolling over to face the wall. “It still doesn’t change the way I feel.”
    Carol sat silently for a few seconds, then reached out and pulled Lisa close. “I know, honey. And I suppose you’re going to have to get over that feeling your own way. In the meantime, what about Alex?”
    Lisa stirred suddenly, and sat up. “Alex? What about him?”
    “Suppose he wakes up?”
    “He
will
wake up,” Lisa said. “He
has
to.”
    “Why? So you can stop feeling sorry for yourself? Is that why you want him to wake up? So it will make you feel better?”
    Lisa’s eyes widened with shock. “Mom! That’s an awful thing to say—”
    Carol shrugged. “Well, what else can I think?” She took Lisa’s hands in her own. “Lisa, I want you to listen very carefully. There’s a chance that Alex may survive all this, and there’s a chance he may wake up. But if he does, he’s going to be in bad shape, and he’s going to need all the help he can get. His parents won’t be enough. He’s going to need his friends, too, and he’s going to need you. But if you’re spending all your energy feeling guilty and sorry for yourself, you’re not going to be much good to him, are you?”
    Lisa looked dazed. “But what can I do?”
    “None of us will know that till the time comes. But for starters, you could try pulling yourself together.” She hesitated for a moment, then went on. “Alex is going to be operated on tomorrow.” Lisa’s eyes reflected her surprise, but before she could say anything, Carol went on. “I know you’re going to want to be there—we all want to be there—but you’re not going to sit on a sofa and cry. If anyone’s going to do that, it’s going to be Ellen, and I suspect
she
won’t do that either. It’s going to be a long operation, and Alex might not make it through. But if you want to be there, both your father and I expect you to behave like the girl we hope we raised.”
    There was a long silence; then the slightest trace of a smile appeared at the corners of Lisa’s mouth. “You mean keep my chin up?” she asked in a tiny voice.
    Carol nodded. “And remember that it’s Alex who’s in trouble, not you. Whatever happens tomorrow, or next week, or whenever, your life will go on. If Alex comes through