"Or maybe she'll have a new dream." He spoke in a gentle voice.

"So many things could go wrong."

"Look," Brad said. "Everyone who will be with you is trained in worst-case scenarios. I personally transported three people with their parents at one time."

"Have you ever lost anyone?" I asked.

"No one has ever died under our care, if that's what you mean."

"What's the worst thing that ever happened?"

"On the road?"

I nodded.

"A patient with schizophrenia got a knife and assaulted his father and the person from the program. They both had to have stitches."

"What happened to the patient?"

"Our person managed to subdue him and take the weapon. He called for backup, who came, gave the patient a sedative, and took parent and driver to the emergency room."

"How did you get into this?" I asked Brad.

"The hard way."

I knew what that meant. "How long would I be gone?"

"Three to four weeks."

"When would I have to leave?"

Brad looked at his watch. "What time are you going to pick up your daughter at the hospital?"

"Around seven o'clock, assuming she'll still be there. The last time she just left without me."

"Then we'd go to Plan B," Brad said.

"Will it just be you, Bethany, and me?"

"Don't know yet. This afternoon I'll call someone at the hospital for an assessment of your daughter." Seeing my surprise, he added, "We have people everywhere.

"I'll meet you in the parking lot at ten after seven. Be packed and ready to go. Make sure your daughter's been to the bathroom. Bring as much medication as you have. You can get more on the road. Need to ask you a few things." He looked at me sternly. "Will you be able to be away for four weeks?"

I nodded.

"Do you or your daughter have any physical problems that I should know about?"

"No."

"Have you ever been arrested for or convicted of a felony?"

"No."

"Do you have a plausible excuse for being away that you can tell anyone you feel needs to know?"

"Yes."

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"No."

"Don't."

IT WAS NEARLY ELEVEN O'CLOCK BY THE TIME I REACHED the store. In the trunk of my car were three suitcases, one filled with enough of my mix-and-match clothes to last for several weeks. Two others contained a summer and fall wardrobe for Trina. Adriana was at the register, and Frances was in the back, altering a woman's dress that had come in yesterday. In my office I busied myself with payroll and writing checks, but still I heard the familiar voices.

Juicy and Coco and Spirit were standing near the purse display, chatting with Adriana. Juicy seemed to be telling a story, one she acted out in pantomime. When she finished, the other women roared with laughter. I'd never heard Adriana laugh so exuberantly. Customers in the store turned to stare at them. I did too. Spirit's arm was on one of Adriana's shoulder's and Coco's was around the other. Juicy pressed against her. They formed a tight circle. Family.

They could reclaim her, I thought. They wouldn't have to promise her anything but their arms around her shoulders. I'd been thinking that Adriana had been saved, that I had saved her. That was my delusion.

"Adriana," I said, after Frances had helped the other customers, "I need you."

Keeping an eye on the girls, I called Frances over and led her and Adriana to the office.

"I've made arrangements for Trina to stay in a mental health facility for a while. I'm going to take some time off."

"You going back east?" Frances asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"You want us to go visit her at the hospital?" Adriana asked.

"No. She's not in any shape to see anyone. I'll tell you when." Peering out the door, I saw Coco waiting near the register. "Frances, go help Coco." As soon as Frances left I turned to Adriana. "Cut them off," I said.

"What?"

I nodded toward her friends. "They want to bring you back down to their level. They don't want to see you living clean. That's why they keep coming here."

"I'm through with all that."

"Stop seeing them," I said.

She stared at me for a very long time. "I can't do that," she said. "They're still my friends. I'm not like them, but I can't just dump them."

I wanted to tell her that she couldn't trust them. I wanted to grab her by her shoulders and shake and shake until she got it. But I had a hard row to hoe ahead of me, and I needed all my strength. "They're not your friends. They don't love you. They can't even love themselves," I said.

But she didn't believe me.

TRINA WAS WAITING FOR ME AT THE HOSPITAL, PACING BACK and forth in front of the nurses' station. Her face was scrubbed clean; her smile was subdued. She called me Mommy and kissed my cheek. I wanted Clyde with me. Here's our kid, I'd say, the wonderful one, not the other one. She was utterly compliant and controllable, not a person in need of an intervention. But I knew things could change in two seconds.

Puff. Puff.

"Go to the bathroom," I said.

"Why?"

"We're not going straight home. My car's in the shop, and a friend is picking us up."

She walked back to her room and as soon as she disappeared my phone rang. It was Orlando-himself, not in character.

"Where you been, baby? I've been trying to catch up with you all day."

"Orlando, I really can't talk right now. I'm running. I put Trina in a mental health facility, and I'm taking off. I need to get away. I'll call you when I get there."

"Where you going? Are you coming to the opening?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

I could see his face, the dejection in his eyes. I was his favorite audience. Trina was walking toward me. Orlando's next question was forming in his mind.

"Orlando, I have to go. Talk to PJ, okay? He really needs you. I'll call."

Elijah was sitting behind the sign-in desk. "Young lady," he said, smiling at both of us, "you take care of yourself. Do what you need to do. I don't want to see you back here again."

Trina giggled.

"Don't worry," I said. "You won't."

17.

THE EVENING AIR WAS CHILLY. HOSPITAL STAFF AND VISItors milled about. Across the street the emergency room was packed. Brad was standing in front of the door that led from the hospital to the parking lot. When he saw us he said, "There you are," grabbed Trina's hand, and shook it. "Brad," he said, "your mom's friend."

"Brad who?" she asked, and I thought, We're not ready for her.

"Sebastian." The name slipped off his tongue so easily, I almost thought it was real.

Trina gave me a look, and I knew she was trying to figure out who Brad was and how he fit into my life.

"This way," Brad said, leading us across the parking lot, down a dark row of cars until we were in front of his blue Explorer.

He held open the door. In the backseat, I could see Bethany and Angelica, who sat apart from her mother. Trina looked at Brad and then at me. She didn't move. She looked from me to Brad and then back to me again.

"Why didn't you drive? I don't want to be with a stranger."

There was outrage in her voice, the two-year-old who would scream until she turned blue. Had she taken her evening pills?

"I don't want to go with him," she said.

Above us, the sky was cloudy and dull; the sun had disappeared. Behind us a siren cut through the air.

"Trina," I said, "you're being rude. Brad is doing me a favor. My car is-"

"There's nothing wrong with your car. Why didn't you ask Adriana or Frances? You could have called Orlando."

She began backing away. I wanted to reach for her, but I couldn't feel my arms. Nothing on my body seemed to work. I had a fleeting vision of Brad dragging her to the car as Trina screamed her head off.

Brad pulled out a pack of Marlboros and offered one to her. "When you get in, I'll explain everything," he said.

"I can smoke in the car?" Trina asked, taking a cigarette. She was looking at me.

Brad nodded. I nodded.

Trina climbed into the seat behind Brad, the middle row. When she saw Bethany and Angelica her body jerked, and I could tell she remembered the older woman.

"They're friends of mine," Brad said.

I sat beside Trina, and Brad got behind the wheel. Click! Click! The power locks sounded. I glanced behind me. The locks were childproof. Only the driver could open them. Moments later, cigarette smoke wafted throughout the car.

"Who are these people? Where are we going?" Trina asked, exhaling the words with the smoke. She stiffened as we turned onto the freeway.

"Trina, your mom has been really worried about you," Brad said. His voice sounded reassuring. "She doesn't think you're getting the kind of help that you need at the hospital. I suggested that she take you someplace where you can get proper treatment."

"Are you going to kill me?" Her tone was high-pitched and frantic.

"Trina!" I said. She'd made outlandish, paranoid statements before, so I wasn't completely surprised.

"We're not going to kill you. Your mother and I want to help you."

"Where are you taking me?"

"To a place where you can get help," Brad said.

"I don't want to go. You can't make me go. I'm over eighteen." Her head twisted from left to right, from Brad to me. "Take me home. You have to take me home."

"Trina," Brad said.

"No. I don't want you talking to me. I don't know you. Mommy, make him take us home."

"I love you very much. You have to trust that I'm doing what's best for you. I want you to have a good life. You haven't been having a good life recently. You're sick, honey."

I looked at Brad. Does he know what he's doing? Can he handle her? Trina reached for the door.