Page 40 of Finding Noah

Dad's swallow was loud, and then he sighed. “No,” he said quietly with resignation.

I lifted my head. “No?”

“You weren't. Not initially.”

Wanted. That was what he meant.

I hadn't been wanted.

Slowly, I nodded, having expected as much.

“Your mom has only talked to me about … that … whole thing a couple of times,” he went on, keeping his voice as low as he could without whispering. “But, no, she didn't want to be pregnant, and your … Seth … he definitely didn't want to be a father.”

I absorbed what he was saying, continuing to nod slowly, if only to do something.

“But she kept me,” I said, stating the obvious.

Dad released his breath. “Yeah, uh … from my understanding, she didn’t want to tell anyone. About what had happened. So, she kept it—you—a secret while she tried to figure out what to do.”

“What do you mean, what happened? You mean getting pregnant?”

He rubbed at a spot on the leg of his sweatpants, clearing his throat and furrowing his brow, like he was trying to stall. He didn't want to answer my question, not realizing that his hesitation was all the answer I needed.

I knew what Seth had done to my mom.

I hadn't realized it back then. Hadn't wanted to put a word to it. But I thought about it now, and I knew, from Dad's lack of reply, that I'd been a product of such a vile, hateful thing.

Rape.

Dad coughed, injecting a little life into the deafening silence. “You know, the thing was, she was ashamed. She thought she was the one to do something wrong for getting mixed up with him in the first place.” He was breathing heavily, like speaking of this was as difficult for him as it must've been for Mom to tell him. “You asked me a long time ago how I had gotten this scar.” He pointed at his cheek, and I nodded. “I had stopped him the first time he tried to do something, so he gave me this.”

I felt sick, uncomfortable in my own skin. Like my very existence was something to hide and be ashamed of, and the only answer was to rip myself apart, piece by piece, limb by limb, so nobody had to relive the horrific events of the past just by looking at me.

God, I was as disgusting as the act that had put me here.

“Noah, stop.”

I looked up and found Dad's eyes looking at me.

“Stop,” he said again, his tone firm and authoritative. “Whatever is going on in your head, stop it now. I shouldn't have said anything. I knew I shouldn't have said anything, but …”

“I have a right to know,” I fired at him, and he surprised me by nodding.

“I agree. You do, and I think you're old enough to know the truth. But I also think you're old enough to understand that you were just as much of a victim as she was.”

My gaze narrowed as I searched the room for the response I needed. “What? I was … I was … a fetus, a baby. I don't—”

“Exactly. You had nothing to do with anything that motherfucker did,” he said, emphasizing each word with a gentle jab of his finger against my chest. “And, as far as I'm concerned, you …” He released an unsteady breath, laying his hand on my knee and squeezing gently. “If it all had to happen, you are … the best fucking thing that could've come from it. Do you understand me? And I don't want you to think for a second that your existence is anything but a gift. Not for a second. Okay?”

I pulled my knees into my chest, allowing a few moments to pass before I reluctantly nodded. More to get him off my back than anything because I knew as well as anyone that he wouldn't let it go if I didn’t agree.

“All right,” he said, a bit skeptical, but I knew he was letting the topic rest. “What's Jay doing tonight?”

“I dunno.”

“You haven't been hanging out with him much lately.”

I offered a flippant gesture and rolled my eyes. “He's too busy with his girlfriend.”