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“Thea, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” my mom says from beside me. I hadn’t even realized she was sitting there. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could have had him arrested!”
“It’s okay, Mom, I never wanted you to know. I never tried pressing charges because I was too traumatized already. A trial would have been torture, especially with no evidence. It would always be his word against mine.” I hold her hand, only being able to imagine how she feels right now, discovering her daughter had this dirty secret. I’ve had six years to process it, she’s only had a few minutes. “I’m ready to move on,” I assure her, trying to sound serious. The giggles are still bubbling out of me like a loon.
“There’s your answer,” Jesse speaks quietly to Malec, making him nod his head.
“If she changes her mind, there’s no statute of limitations,” he responds quietly back to Jesse. He clears his throat when he notices me watching their exchange. “If you change your mind…” He starts, but I nod cutting him off.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you.” I meant it, I’m ready to move on, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that a part of me wants him to rot in prison for his crime. I’ve worried for years that I’m not his only victim, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to learn the truth.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, which might still be up for debate,” he says, noting the tears still on my face from my laughing fit. “He knows he messed up by coming here, but I’ll make sure he leaves town.” He turns to Jesse and my brother. “Please, stop breaking laws and making me witness it. I don’t want to arrest you lunatics,” Malec states sternly, moving toward the door. “Jesus Christ…” He mumbles after taking one last glance at their bloodied appearances.
It makes the laughter burst out of me again, even harder, making me double over to catch my breath. Jesse rubs my back reassuringly, letting me ride it out. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he utters, sending me orbiting again.
* * *
“It wasn’t that bad… Just the ending was bad,” Jesse says after I suggested that his first official family Thanksgiving was ruined. We’ve been going back and forth about it all weekend. I wanted everything to be perfect.
“I’m sorry you had to take care of me. I thought I was over my past. I don’t like how affected I was by seeing him again,” I explain, not even wanting to speak my rapist’s name.
“I will always take care of you. Always. I’m only sorry he’s still breathing.” Jesse draws a finger down my bare back, tracing my spine. We spent most of the day today in bed.
“I have an early Christmas present for you,” I whisper, curling into his chest.
“Christmas is a month away.” He laughs, holding me tight.
“I know, but I want this to be your best one yet,” I tell him, nervously. I’m worried what he’ll think of my surprise. I’ve been working hard to set it up perfectly, but he might not have the reaction I’m hoping for.
“It will be, no matter what. I have you, Sunshine.” He kisses my forehead, making me sigh happily. “I don’t think I’d ever decorated a tree before. I don’t even remember doing it as a kid before my mom died.”
The only thing we did this weekend after the disastrous Thanksgiving day, was put up my artificial tree, lights, and ornaments. Having him here to celebrate the holidays has healed even more parts of me that I didn’t realize were broken. Not only was I missing the physical intimacy for years, but I had missed out on all the simple traditions that you share with your person. Now I can’t even fathom spending a holiday without him.
“This surprise will require you to take a few days off of work. I know you just started at the new base, but do you think they’d give you vacation time?” I ask, biting my lip, the nerves getting to me.
“I’ll make it work,” he says, suspicious of what I’m telling him. Or rather not saying.
I climb off the bed and go to my closet to pull a box out from the back, returning to the bed before opening it. My heart is beating fast, making my fingers unsteady on the lid.
“Okay.” Deep breath. “When you were in Texas, I spent my extra time doing some research.” I remove the lid, exposing the contents of the box. It’s full of newspaper clippings, documents, and more.
He eyes the papers, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What is all of this?”
“It’s you. Stuff from your past. I used the Indiana libraries database to look up newspapers and census information from when you were a kid.” My voice is almost a whisper, anxious to see his reaction.
“What?” He asks, unbelievably. He goes to touch the top piece but pulls his hand away like he’s afraid.
“Here,” I encourage him, handing him a newspaper clipping of his hometown. “Your birth was announced in the local paper. It has your parents’ names, and yours.” I point to show him, seeing his eyes trail across the words.
I rifle through more of what I have, showing him small tidbits that might be about him or his hometown. I wasn’t sure how accurate it all was. My research was more of a guessing game, following names and leads, and trying to connect the dots.
“This.” I show him a faded photo from a newspaper. “It’s your first-grade class. The paper ran a story about your spelling bee. It has everyone’s names listed at the bottom.
I look again at the little chubby, gap-toothed face of Jesse as a six-year-old before I hand it to him. My sweet boy before all of the tragedy. Even without the names, I could tell which one was him. His shaggy blonde hair hangs over his forehead, but it’s him, I’d never mistake it.
Right next to him, is his teacher, Miss Carlisle. Her dark curly ringlets are held back by a dark headband, that I can tell even from this faded black and white photo, matches her lipstick.
He looks at the photo in awe for a long time and I give him all the time he needs. For him, this is only a small piece of the childhood that was torn from him. While I hope it brings good memories to his mind, I’m afraid of the bad memories that could take root.
“I can’t believe you found this,” he chokes out. I lean in close to him, leaving the box and papers strewn on the mattress in front of us, and rest my head on his shoulder.
