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“Kasey, how long are you going to torture yourself?” Abigail asks me.
“Well, I’m not sure yet. What’s the typical time frame for self-torture after enduring a near-death experience, Abigail?” Damn, this unresolved anger really is a bitch to deal with.
“I know you’re in pain, so I’m not going to rip into you for being an asshole to your best friend.” She quirks a brow at me. “But I am going to tell you I was totally listening at the door. I have never heard a man more broken than he is, and I’ve never seen a woman more broken than you are right now. Lovebug, you have to figure out a way to forgive him. I know he fucked up royally, I get that, but he made a mistake. He’s punished himself for the last two weeks, and so have you. I never saw you happier than the time you spent with him. You were glowing, and I don’t think it was just from the sex. You had finally found someone you could be free with. Someone who worshipped that side of you, and all the other sides, too. It was new, and you were both in a shitty situation when everything happened. Neither of you was thinking clearly and instead of sticking together, you both lashed out and went back to what was familiar, which was taking care of business on your own. That’s not how it works, though, babe. Not when you want to build a life with someone. He fucked up, but so did you. I think part of the reason you’re having a hard time forgiving him is because you can’t forgive yourself. You letting go and going balls to the wall with him is not in any way related to what happened to Lindsey.”
Well shit.
She’s right. I know she’s right, but this guilt I have is still consuming me. I see Lindsey put her wine down. She turns to me, pain apparent in her eyes. The pain I see every day. The source of my guilt.
“Kasey, what happened to me, to all of us, had nothing to do with you being with Donovan. I’m the one that when I don’t want to talk, I shut everyone out. I don’t think for even a second that you were too wrapped up in Donovan to know anything happened to me. Nothing you did or didn’t do would have changed the outcome. That lies wholly at my feet. You can’t make your existence entirely about making sure I’m okay. That’s not fair to either of us. If anything, I was the one who dragged you into that mess—”
“No, Lindsey, stop taking the blame for Helen,” I cut her off. I hate that she’s still blaming herself.
“I know you hate it when I say that, but I hate it when you blame yourself, too. It breaks my heart to think that you found someone like Donovan and you both let your own bullshit get in the way. I know it’s scary to rely on someone and give them your heart. He wasn’t careful with it before, and trust me, as your sister that pisses me off too, but he came here to make it right with you. To show you that he really does trust you. He trusts you to tell the truth in a story. He knows how it’s going to look, all the stuff with Jackson, but he wants to give it to you, anyway. That’s how important you are to him.” She lets out a heavy sigh as a tear trickles down her cheek.
“Please don’t throw this away. I won’t ever be able to forgive myself if you do.” I go to my sister and wrap her in a hug. I can’t wait for the day she isn’t crying all the time, blaming herself for everything that happened to her and to the rest of us.
“Okay, Lindsey. I can’t promise too much, but I’ll call Gus in the morning and talk about it.” I kiss the top of her head and hand her the wineglass.
“Enough tears today, yeah?”
“I’ll cheers to that,” Abigail says as we clink glasses again. Maybe by the time we finish this bottle, I’ll have figured out what the hell to do.
The next morning, I call Gus and tell him what Donovan proposed.
“You know I would support that decision, but are you sure you’re not too close to the story? That might be asking too much from you since you were there and all.” Those were the same fears I had as well as I was pondering the idea last night.
“What do you suggest, then? I don’t know if I can make an impartial decision on this.”
“I never want to lose a story to another paper, but I think Ralph Thompson should do it. He won’t push either of you into talking about things you want to be kept off the record, and I trust him more than any other reporter. Don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”
I laugh at his confession and the fact that he wants it kept secret.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence there, boss.”
“Oh, shut it. You know I don’t mean you. You’re the best reporter I’ve worked with for at least a decade. The way I see it, the sooner you do this, the sooner you’ll be back to covering stories for me.” So altruistic, my boss.
“Okay, Gus. I’ll get in touch with Ralph and set it up. I’ll keep you posted.”
“You take care. We’ll talk soon.” With that, he hangs up. I’ve always thought Gus was a dying breed in the newspaper business. I know that’s true now. To care about me more than a scoop is definitely not the norm in our line of work.
I call Ralph and set up the interview two days from now. It thrilled him to be getting the scoop, and he’s just as surprised as I am that Gus is the one who suggested it. Then I text Donovan the details. I probably should have checked with him first about having someone else write the piece, but I need to see that he trusts me and that he trusts my judgment. He needs to see that I would never jeopardize his career or his family’s reputation.
Me: I decided I don’t want the story but I’ll do an interview. I set it up with Ralph Thompson for the day after tomorrow at noon at your place.
He replies right away.
DH: Whatever u think is best sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you
I’d be lying if I said that the idea of seeing Donovan didn’t give me happy butterflies, but I’m not ready to tell him that yet. I’ve taken what Abigail and my sister said to heart, but my heart is still hurt.
Me: See you then
He doesn’t text back after that. He is being respectful of the space I asked for. Now I need to decide if it’s space I need or him.
