Chương 7
Love did not disappear simply because someone hurt you.
Sometimes it became the thing that kept you there.
“He would be wonderful for weeks,” she said.
“Then something would happen.”
“What kind of thing?”
“He would get angry.”
“About?”
“Anything.”
She rubbed her hands together.
“He hated when I questioned him.”
Robert remembered Derek’s confidence.
The way he spoke over people.
The way he always seemed certain.
“He told me nobody else would put up with me.”
Robert felt anger rise.
He kept it controlled.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because after a while, you start wondering if maybe they’re right.”
That sentence hurt more than anything else she had said.
Because Robert knew his daughter.
Or at least he thought he did.
She had been stubborn as a child.
She argued with teachers.
She defended friends.
She once refused to apologize to a neighbor because she believed she was right about a broken fence.
Robert had laughed about it then.
He had called her determined.
Now he wondered when determination had turned into doubt.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gaby looked at him.
“I tried.”
Robert felt his throat tighten.
“When?”
“The night before Leo was born.”
He searched his memory.
The hospital.
The waiting room.
Derek pacing.
Gaby looking exhausted.
“I remember.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
Robert frowned.
“Derek said you were overwhelmed.”
Her face fell slightly.
“Yes.”
A heavy silence followed.
“He told everyone I was emotional because of the pregnancy.”
Robert looked away.
He remembered believing him.
He remembered telling Gaby to rest.
To stop worrying.
To let Derek help.
Another memory.
Another mistake.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Gaby shook her head.
“I’m not telling you this so you feel guilty.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She asked it gently.
Not accusingly.
Robert looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make yourself responsible for everything.”
He did not answer.
Because she was right.
It was easier for him to carry guilt than helplessness.
Guilt meant there was something he could fix.
Helplessness meant accepting that his daughter had been hurting while he was nearby.
“What happened with the money?” he asked.
Gaby took a slow breath.
“That was later.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Robert’s face tightened.
“You don’t know how much money you have?”
“No.”
“That is not normal.”
“I know.”
She looked embarrassed.
“Derek said he was protecting us.”
“From what?”
“From me making mistakes.”
Robert leaned forward.
“What mistakes?”
Gaby shrugged.
“Buying things.”
“Like what?”
“Groceries.”
The answer was so simple that it almost made him angry.
“Groceries?”
“He said I bought too much food.”
Robert stared at her.
“You have a child.”
“I know.”
“He criticized you for buying food?”
She nodded.
“He said I was emotional about money.”
Robert stood and walked to the window.
Outside, his neighborhood looked unchanged.
The same trees.
The same streets.
The same houses.
A man across the street was washing his car.
A child rode a bicycle in a driveway.
Nobody looking at the scene would guess that a family was sitting inside trying to rebuild itself.
“What finally made you leave?” Robert asked.
Gaby did not answer immediately.
That worried him.
Because some memories took time before they could be spoken.
“He hurt Leo.”
Robert turned.
“What?”
“He didn’t mean to.”
Her voice became defensive.
Not toward Derek.
Toward herself.
“He was angry.”
Robert walked back.
“What happened?”
Gaby looked down.
“Leo was crying.”
She swallowed.
“He wouldn’t stop.”
“And?”
“Derek was tired.”
Robert felt his hands tighten.
“Gaby.”
“He grabbed him.”
“How?”
She closed her eyes.
“Too hard.”
The room became silent.
Robert sat down again.
“Did Leo get hurt?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Then she corrected herself.
“I mean, not badly.”
Robert looked at her.
There was no acceptable version of that sentence.
“And that was when you left?”
Gaby nodded.
“I packed a bag.”
“Where did you go?”
“My friend’s.”
“Which friend?”
She hesitated.
“Emily.”
Robert knew the name.
A college friend.
Someone Gaby had mentioned years ago.
“What happened?”
“Derek found me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Robert’s expression changed.
“He called.”
“From where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Gaby shook her head.
“He always knew things.”
The sentence bothered him.
Not because it was impossible.
Because it sounded like something she had accepted as normal.
“He told me I was being dramatic,” she said.
“He said I was keeping Leo from his father.”
“What did you do?”
“I came back.”
Robert stared.
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because he apologized.”
There it was again.
The cycle.
The apology that repaired nothing.
The promise that lasted until the next moment.
“He said he would change.”
Robert nodded slowly.
“And then?”
“He didn’t.”
The simplicity of the answer made it heavier.
“What happened after that?”
“He started controlling where we went.”
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
“Doctors?”
“Yes.”
“Stores?”
“Yes.”
“Friends?”
“Yes.”
Robert looked at the floor.
The pieces were forming.
But he needed to be careful.
Anger wanted to move faster than truth.
He needed facts.
Not just feelings.
“Did anyone else know?”
Gaby shook her head.
“My neighbor suspected something.”
“Who?”
“An older woman named Linda.”
“What did she say?”
“That I should call someone.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Gaby looked at him.
“Because I was embarrassed.”
Robert nodded.
He understood.
Not completely.
But enough.
Shame had been another locked door.
A door he had not known existed.
His phone buzzed on the desk.
Both of them looked at it.
This time, Robert did not move immediately.
The screen showed a message.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
I think you need to know what Derek has been hiding.
Robert stared at the message.
Gaby noticed his face.
“What is it?”
He looked at her.
For a moment, he considered not telling her.
Protecting her.
Keeping one more painful thing away.
Then he remembered the past.
May you like
How many times had people decided what she could handle?
How many times had they spoken around her instead of to her?
