I nod, trying to gauge whether my sister wants to know the truth or if she’s asking out of curiosity that doesn’t truly want to be satisfied.
“It was…complicated,” I admit. “It’s honestly not at all what we thought.”
She looks surprised at my answer. “She tried talking to me, but I told her I was there for Livvie and that I didn’t want to hear it.”
“Do you want to hear it now?”
Our eyes catch, a million pulses of our childhood pain going between us. Her voice is quiet as she says, “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Taking a deep breath, I take Charlie’s hand in mine and haltingly relay the series of events that resulted in our mother’s departure from our lives. The abuse she endured from our father, how she’d held out for years hoping he’d change, her eventual decision to divorce him and try to get him to face his addictions. I can barely bring myself to detail what he made her do to settle his debts, the videotape blackmail. Charlie listens silently, her face shut-off and blank.
“Hemadeher leave us,” I finish. “She thought we were going to live like princesses.”
My voice cracks on the last word, and Charlie bursts into tears.
“I knew she loved me,” she chokes out between sobs. “I hate him.”
“I know,” I say gently, rubbing her back. I don’t need to ask who she’s referring to.
Charlie’s tears keep coming, but I just murmur soothing words and let her get it out. She’s processing years of buried trauma and pain, the deep wounds suddenly reshaping themselves around these new revelations. I know what she’s feeling. I felt the same way.
“He forced her out of our lives, and for what?” she sobs. “For the enjoyment of watching us suffer through our whole childhoods? Or was he just biding his fucking time so he could eventually pimp us out?”
“Knowing him, I wouldn’t doubt it.” There’s no point in sugarcoating it.
A puff of warm air on my leg draws my attention to Ytse. His head is down, his ears forward as if he’s listening and sympathizing.
“You know, I saw Mom the night she left.” Charlie pats the horse’s nose.
“You did?”
She nods. “I got up for something in the middle of the night, I don’t even remember what. And I found her in the foyer with a suitcase. She didn’t see me at first, but I saw her. She was crying, not making a sound, just standing there. Shaking. And she looked terrified. I don’t know, maybe she couldn’t figure out whether to stay or just get the hell out of there. But then she saw me. And she just…smiled, like nothing was wrong, and told me this lie about how she needed to go on a business trip. She said she’d be back soon.”
My brows knit together. “Mom didn’t work.”
“Yeah,” Charlie says. “The thing that always stuck in my mind is the way she lied to my face. It’s like…in that moment, I convinced myself I believed her—Iknewit wasn’t true, but I wanted to believe her, I didn’t want her to cry anymore, I didn’t wantherto cry. So I just played along and pretended it was okay. I convinced myself it somehow had to be true. That she’d come back. But she never did.
“God, Frankie, for years I held on to that. How I let her lie to me and just walk right out the door. And I was so angry at her. I had no idea that…”
She starts crying again, which sets me off, and I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. We’re finally interrupted when Ytse moves closer and noses at Charlie’s hair.
“You big monster,” she teases, laughing through her tears.
We quiet down, taking turns petting Ytse’s nose.
After a moment, I say, “Dad’s got a long list of things he needs to pay for, doesn’t he?”
Charlie takes a deep breath.
“I hope…” she whispers. “I hope Clayton kills him. I hate myself for wishing that on my dad, and on Clayton. But…I can’t help wanting it all the same. Do you think that makes me a bad person?”
“No,” I whisper back. “It makes you human.”
I lean my head on her shoulder and hold my big sister close.
13
Frankie
