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14
My fingers hold the leafy green lettuce as the water from the faucet pours over my hands and I stare dazedly out the kitchen window.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Huh?”I turn my head toward my mom and her watchful gaze.
“You doing okay, sweetheart?”
I glance down at the lettuce and, deeming it clean enough, turn off the water and pat it dry with a paper towel.“Actually, I am.”
“Really?”my mom asks, her eyes widening with surprise.
I’m a bit surprised myself.It’s been two weeks since I found Robbie’s letter, and in that time I feel like I went through all the stages of grief on hyperspeed.Denial that he really knew about his condition, anger, depression, bargaining for him to have done something, anything differently.Until finally, in the last two days, all I’ve felt is acceptance.Acceptance that he’s really gone and this is my life now without him, and acceptance that he knew about his condition and never told me.It’s a lie by omission, and it’s made me second-guess so many of our interactions in those months before he died, but I can’t confront him about it.I can’t get any resolution or answers from him, so all I can do is accept it for what it is.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s not like I have much of a choice.
“What brought on this change?”
My mom knows me too well.It’s the downside of being as close as we are.“Robbie left me a letter,” I say and then tell her all about finding the letter, the lab results, Tristan coming over and being just as surprised.It eases some of the hurt knowing Robbie didn’t tell him either.
“Tristan really didn’t know?”Mom asks.
“No, he definitely didn’t.He looked as shocked as I felt.”I start tearing the lettuce, focusing on each little bit that I drop into the bowl instead of my mom.“We actually had a really nice conversation.He’s been such a big help this past year.I’m really grateful to have his friendship.”
“Hmm.”
I glance up at her.“What?”
She shakes her head, and the ghost of a smile graces her face, but she doesn’t say anything else.Instead, she continues cutting the cucumber.
“How do you feel about what you found out?”she asks.
“I’m upset, but what can I do?”
“Good point.”
Turning around, I lean against the counter, my hands braced at my sides.“You know what really bothers me?”
“What?”
“How this one deception has colored our entire relationship in my mind.I can’t help wondering what else he kept from me.Did he ever lie to me outright or were there more of these lies by omission?I’m legitimately terrified to keep going through his things because I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises.I don’t want to question what we had.I don’t want to wonder if he wasn’t who I thought he was.”My voice weakens as I speak some of my deepest fears.
Seeing my panic, my mom stops slicing the cucumbers and moves over to me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Now you listen to me, Jolie Elizabeth Nolan.That boy loved you; anyone with eyes could see it.”Pulling back, she grabs my upper arms to make sure I’m looking at her.“I’m not sure why he lied to you, or didn’t tell you rather, but I imagine he had his reasons.The last thing he’d ever do is intentionally hurt you.Trust that.”
“That’s so much easier said than done.”
Her eyes soften.“I know, honey.I wish he could give you the answers you’re looking for.”
“Me too.”
She steps back toward her cutting board but stands there staring at the half-cut cucumber.
“Mom?You okay?”
She looks up at me, her green eyes that match mine looking more vulnerable than I think I’ve ever seen them.“Did you know your father used to drink?”
