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Grief is a greater fuel than money could ever be.
“Judah, calm the fuck down.” Noah tells him, a slight edge to his voice. “Mikaela’s fine, do you really think I would hurt her?’
I push past my mother, grabbing my father's arms and pulling him away from Noah. He lets me, or else I don’t think I would have been successful.
“Dad,” I whimper, pushing my body to his, wrapping my arms around him. “I’m sorry.” Tears drip down from my eyes as I hug him.
I can feel his body tense before it relaxes and he wraps his own arms around me. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, Mikaela, I’m not mad at you.”
“I fucked up,” I cry, all the pain and sorrow coming back to me again. “I should have protected her, but I can’t even remember what happened.”
I feel my mother come up behind me, wrapping her arms around me and joining our hug. “Shh,” she whispers. “Everything’s okay.”
Once I calm down, I sit wrapped in a blanket on the couch next to my father while my mother makes tea in the kitchen. Noah stands in the corner like a statue with his arms cro
ssed over his chest. He’s trying to give us space to grieve as a family, but he also wants to see what I’ll do, what I’ll say.
“I’m fine, really.” I say, tugging the blanket tighter around me. “You don’t need to stay.”
“Nonsense,” my father says to me, but his eyes stay trained on Noah. “We’ll stay.”
My mother shuffles back into the kitchen with two mugs of tea in her hand. “Drink this,” she says, shoving one into my hands, the warm mug permeates my skin, thawing me. She sits down next to me on the leather couch in Noah’s living room, pressing out the skirt of her dress nervously. She watches me, her matching green eyes filled with sadness. “We’re just worried,” she says gravelly.
“I know,” I tell her softly. “I swear, I’m okay.”
“I just,” she wrings her hands together. “We saw pictures, you went to the deposition today…” Her eyes are watery again and I can tell she’s trying her best to ask me without getting angry, without yelling. “Do you…” she trails off. “Do you remember what happened?” She looks at me hopefully.
My memory has been a sore subject with everyone.
I was there, I should know what happened. I should remember seeing my sister, remember her crying. I should have been there for her.
I was so drunk, so far gone. I can’t even remember the drinks, how many I had or what they were.
Everything from that night is a dark pit, buried deep beneath the ground's surface and then blurred, out of focus.
There are pieces, tiny details. Muted orange, black roses—but everything is just fragments. Broken pieces that I can’t put back together again.
“No,” I whisper.
She nods her head, turning from me slowly. All the hope is draining from her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the tears threatening to work their way back to the surface. “I’ve tried, I just… can’t.”
“Shh,” she whispers, bringing her hands to wrap around my arm, pulling me close to her. “It’s okay.”
“Mik.” My father speaks now, leaning forward to place each of his elbows on his knees. He looks bad, disheveled. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. His clothes are slightly wrinkled, his hair is graying. “You know better than any of us what happened that night, somewhere in there you know. If you trust him, if you want to stay here I can’t stop you.” He pauses, sighing heavily. “I think he’s dangerous.” His eyes flicker up to meet Noah’s. “I can’t promise that we’ll stop, I’ll fight until my last breath to put him behind bars. I’m not going to force you out of here.” He rises, dusting off his khakis. “But I hope you’ll come with me.”
He gestures for my mother to follow him and I can feel her tense. She studies me again, her eyes pleading with me wanting me to follow.
But I won’t.
Because even without looking at him I can feel Noah’s eyes on me from the corner of the room and the thought of leaving him tears at something in me. It shouldn’t, I owe him nothing.
I’m not sure what he would do if I left, I don’t know what he has over me. I want to pretend I’m afraid for my life, just to have an excuse. But I’m not sure I even believe that he would hurt me.
“I’ll stay.” I whisper, avoiding their eyes once again tonight.
My mother kisses my cheek wordlessly, rising from the couch to join my father. They leave quickly and quietly, as if they’d never even been here.
