Page 17 of What You Never Knew

Ezra looks like he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him, but he takes a deep breath and launches into the explanation June is demanding. “You know how your mother was up here on her own in the fall when you guys went back to school?”

June nods. “She always said she needed time and solitude to close the place up properly,” she explains.

“Well, one of those times I came out with my dad to cut the grass and put the dock furniture away,” Ezra continues. “My father hadn’t wanted to bring me, but my mother insisted. They actually got in a fight about it. Probably because she suspected what was going on and thought me being here would mean nothing happened,” he explains. “We got here, and my dad said he had to do some work inside and told me to cut the grass. When I was done, I came into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I was standing at the counter drinking it when they came down the stairs. They were both laughing, and—” He stops and studies June’s face.

“And what?” June asks impatiently.

“My dad was doing up his pants.”

“How old were you? And what did they say?” June asks, sounding almost frantic.

“I was around eleven, I think. And they didn’t say anything, just tried to act natural, and I went back outside.”

June nods her head slowly as she mulls his story over. I wonder if she’s going to try to find holes in it as well. “Did your mother know?” She finally asks.

Ezra shrugs. “She denied it was true when it came out in the papers. Said it was just malicious small-town rumors, but I overheard arguments between her and my father, and it was pretty clear that she knew and had known for some time.”

June gets up suddenly from the table and walks right through me. I absorb the confusion and anger that’s running through her veins. I also smell her, so strongly, as though I’m right up against her skin—forest and sweet sweat. I want to hold her there, but it’s a fleeting sensation and she’s across the room, leaving me empty again. She finds some open space to pace back and forth in while she processes all of it.

“I’m sorry, June. This must come as a real shock to you,” Ezra apologizes again.

June lifts a hand to bat away his words; she was never very good with other people’s sympathy. She stops pacing and leans on the counter, rubbing a hand across her forehead. I notice the fresh tan on her long fingers.

“To be honest,” she says, “the fact that they were having an affair does make it all seem more suspicious—my father disappearing without a trace and then your father disappearing once accused of something.”

Ezra sits up straighter in his chair, and I see him visibly tense up. “It does, but my dad didn’t have anything to do with your dad’s disappearance.” He gestures toward June dismissively. “And now, hearing the version your mom told you makes me think she called the police to stir up trouble to get back at my dad. That she knew all along that your dad just took off.”

“Then why did your dad run?” June says, her words instantly pitting them against each other.

Ezra picks up his glass and gulps down the rest of his wine, then stands up. “I think I should go. I’m not rehashing this bullshit again thirty years later just because you’re late to the party. My dad is innocent and always has been.”

June steps forward and puts a hand on his arm to keep him there. “I’m sorry, Ezra. Don’t go. Please. I’m just trying to understand what really happened. It all feels so crazy to me.”

Ezra’s expression softens, and he sinks back down into his chair. “I can only imagine what it would be like to be learning all of this years later.” He sighs. “I’m sorry I snapped. I just spent so long feeling like I had to defend my dad, it’s my default setting.”

June grabs the bottle of wine and refills Ezra’s glass and her own, then sits back down at the table. “Here’s the version I was told by my mother: my dad took off because he was a weak-willed coward, and she sold Avril Island because we needed the extra money with him gone. That’s literally all I knew about the time in our history.”

“She told you that she sold this place?” Ezra asks in disbelief.

June nods and drinks greedily from her glass. “Why do you think West left, if he wasn’t actually, you know”—she pauses, taking time with her words—“guilty of anything?”

Ezra shrugs. “I don’t know. All that I do know for sure is that my mom kind of lost it when my dad disappeared. Became a bit unhinged from reality. Some days she’s quite lucid, but other days it’s hard to tell she’s even in there or understands what she’s talking about.”

June spreads her fingers forward on the table as though she wants to take Ezra’s hand, but she doesn’t. “I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this. That you were here going through some entirely separate reality but one directly connected to me.”

“Why do you think your mom said she sold the place when she didn’t?” Ezra asks. “I heard that there were offers over the years, but she always turned them down.”

June scrunches her face in confusion. “I don’t know. I even asked her if we could come back to get our things. I wanted to say good-bye to this place. Mostly I just wanted to see it one more time. Memorize every tree, every rock, every …” She trails off, picks at a knot in the wooden table with great focus. She’s trying not to cry. I know the signs well. She clears her throat. “Whenever I asked, she’d say maybe. Then one day I asked and she told me it was too late. That she’d sold it to another family.”

“Maybe because the place reminded her of your dad?” Ezra offers.

June laughs. “This place was all my mother. She ruled it, and he got to visit on weekends. And now I know how well that suited her.” She throws her hands up. “She was sleeping with your father.” June suddenly looks angry. She stops talking and stares into her wineglass as though she might find comfort there.

“Maybe I should go,” Ezra says, after a few seconds of silence. “I’ve dropped a lot in your lap here. You probably need time to think things over.”

June gives her head a shake as though to clear it. “My god. I feel horrible. All we’ve done is talk about my dad’s disappearance. I haven’t learned anything new about you.” She takes a quick sip of wine and forces a smile. “Are you married? Common law? Divorced? Kids?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “None of the above.”