Chương 8
“It’s over.”
“Give me time to fix this.”
“You still think fixing it means getting the outcome you want.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s exactly fair.”
“I love you.”
Rachel’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
He looked up.
The answer hurt him.
Good, some small ugly part of her thought.
Then she hated herself for thinking it.
She continued.
“That’s why this is so bad. If you didn’t love me, you’d just be a con artist. I could understand that.”
“I was wrong.”
“You were controlling.”
“Yes.”
“You were scared.”
“Yes.”
“You were greedy.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“You were also kind to me for six years.”
Ethan’s eyes went red.
Rachel looked down at the ring.
“And I don’t know what to do with all of those things being true at the same time.”
“Don’t decide today.”
“I already did.”
He covered his mouth with one hand.
Rachel stood.
Ethan said, “What happens now?”
She looked at him.
“For once, I don’t know.”
Thomas tried to leave two days later.
Rachel found out because he sent a text.
Bus at 3:40. Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry about the wedding.
She called immediately.
“You’re leaving?”
“I said I would.”
“Why?”
“You’ve got enough going on.”
“That sounds suspiciously like deciding what I can handle.”
Thomas went quiet.
Rachel almost smiled.
“Where are you?”
“Motel.”
“Stay there.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“It was.”
She drove over.
Thomas had packed.
The leather bag sat on the bed beside a paper sack containing two apples, a bottle of water, and what looked like a ham sandwich.
Rachel stared at it.
“You were going to take a six-hour bus with one sandwich?”
“Two.”
“There’s one.”
“I ate one.”
She sat in the chair by the window.
Thomas remained standing.
“You don’t have to leave.”
“Okay.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m asking you to stay forever.”
“I know.”
“And it doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
Thomas sat on the edge of the bed.
“All right.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Why did you stop trying?”
He rubbed the scar on his thumb.
“Which time?”
“After Ethan.”
Thomas inhaled slowly.
“Because the letter hurt.”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You still could have called.”
“Yeah.”
“You could have shown up.”
“Yeah.”
“You did yesterday.”
“Different man.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Yes.”
The answer irritated her again.
Thomas looked toward the window.
“There’s something people say in meetings that used to make me mad. You can’t make amends to somebody by forcing yourself into their life. Sometimes staying away is the amends.”
Rachel said nothing.
“I wanted to believe that was what you wanted.”
“Why?”
“Because it let me quit.”
There it was.
No noble explanation.
No villain to hide behind.
Thomas continued.
“I was scared you’d tell me yourself.”
Rachel looked at him.
“I had twenty years of reasons to think you might.”
“You mean twenty-nine?”
“I was decent for some of them.”
She almost laughed.
He shrugged.
“Maybe eighteen good ones. Then your mom got sick and I turned into somebody I didn’t recognize.”
“You started drinking before she got sick.”
“Yes.”
“You always say after Mom.”
Thomas’s face changed.
“You’re right.”
Rachel had not expected that.
“I drank before. Worse after.”
“You left me at school once.”
“I know.”
“I was twelve.”
“I know.”
“You were supposed to pick me up.”
“I know.”
“It rained.”
Thomas looked at the floor.
A muscle moved in his cheek.
Rachel heard herself breathing.
She had not planned to say any of this. There were memories she had spent years sanding smooth until they became anecdotes.
The day her father forgot her at school was not an anecdote.
She had waited under an awning with a teacher named Mrs. Goodwin until six seventeen. Rainwater had flowed along the curb carrying cigarette butts and yellow leaves. Every pair of headlights made Rachel stand.
Thomas arrived drunk enough that Mrs. Goodwin refused to let Rachel get into the car.
Rachel’s mother had to leave chemotherapy to pick her up.
Thomas whispered, “I remember.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No. You remember being told about it later.”
He looked at her.
“I remember the next morning.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
Her tears came then.
Quietly.
She wiped them away with the heel of her hand.
“You don’t get to come back because Ethan was worse than I thought.”
“I know.”
“And he doesn’t get to become innocent because you were bad.”
“I know.”
“I hate both of you.”
Thomas nodded.
“That seems fair.”
Rachel laughed through the tears.
“Stop being reasonable.”
“I’m trying not to get thrown out.”
“That’s at least honest.”
He smiled faintly.
Rachel looked at the travel bag.
“Stay until Monday.”
“Why Monday?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
“You can get a better hotel.”
“I can’t afford a better hotel.”
Rachel looked at him.
He added, “And I’m not taking money from you.”
“I wasn’t offering.”
“You had the face.”
“What face?”
“The one your mother made before doing something for somebody without asking.”
Rachel stood.
“I’m leaving.”
“Okay.”
At the door she stopped.
“Do you still have the locket?”
Thomas touched his coat pocket.
“Yes.”
“Can I see it?”
He handed it to her.
The hinge squeaked when she opened it.
There was the photograph.
Thomas, thirty-three years old, before the gray hair, before the drinking got bad.
Rachel at six.
She rubbed her thumb over the dent.
“Mom dropped this.”
“In the kitchen.”
“You yelled because you thought it broke.”
“I did not yell.”
“You absolutely yelled.”
“I raised my voice at gravity.”
Rachel smiled despite herself.
Then she handed the locket back.
“Monday.”
Thomas nodded.
“Monday.”
The scandal did not stay private.
By Friday, a gossip account had identified Thomas from an old DUI record.
By Saturday, strangers were discussing Rachel’s childhood online.
May you like
Someone posted a photograph from her college graduation showing Thomas in the background, face flushed, finger raised during the argument Ethan had mentioned.
The caption called him violent.
