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“I tossed it. The things she said in there, if someone saw them—I was afraid what they would think of her. I didn’t want her to look like—”
“A victim,” Lily mutters.
We both flash our focus to her. She coughs a little and looks up from the table.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s okay,” I encourage.
My mom’s hands have grown stiff in mine. She doesn’t like that word, and that’s what this is about. My mom refusing to accept that bad things happen, that some men aren’t good, and that she was right to kick Neil out of the house.
“It’s not my place,” Lily says.
“You’re right. It’s not,” my mom fires back.
“No, Mom. It is. Lily and Anika were close. And she confided in her.” All of this feels like a betrayal to my sister. She isn’t here to tell her own story, but it doesn’t make her story any less valid.
“She was dealing with a lot of, uhm . . . emotional scars.” Lily struggles to pick out the right words. Her love for my sister is genuine, and she doesn’t want to say anything that makes Anika seem less than the amazing woman Lily found her to be—than she was.
“When did you throw her journal away, Mom?” I’m hopeful that maybe it was recent. Maybe, I could go out to the back of the house right now and retrieve it. Maybe I could read Anika’s words and be her voice, saving my mom from the monster she’s married to.
“That night. I . . .” My mom’s eyes fill with instant tears, and she pulls her hands away from me as she looks down at them. “I sent her a text letting her know I threw it away. I told her I did it to save her, to keep her business private. It’s the last thing—”
That’s what Anika left the party for. She was rushing home to save her truth. She was coming here to save Mom.
“You told her Neil was coming back, didn’t you?” My voice is soft, almost a whisper.
My mom doesn’t respond. Through her sniffles and lack of words, I glean everything I need to know. My stomach aches and bile crawls up my esophagus. I look over my shoulder to the dark hallway where whistles and commentary blare from the TV.
“You can’t let him stay here, Mom. You deserve better.”
She remains silent.
I look across the table to Lily, and all she can manage is the same sad eyes I’m sure I’m wearing. I chew at my lip and look over my shoulder again, my inner debate a pendulum between rushing the monster and tossing him out myself or giving my mom time to do it herself. If I throw him out, she’ll likely open the door to let him back in.
“Anika’s accident . . .” I swallow down my emotions. Right now, I’m the adult. Right now, I am the glue. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Mom. She had a seizure.”
I stop before tumbling down the road of choices and consequences because I know I won’t be able to help myself from pointing out my mom’s bad decisions, and blame is not my intent. Blame will not erase the past. But truth can fix the future.
“Lily and I need to get back to school. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and like I said . . . I wanted to apologize.” I stand and my mom turns in her seat, standing and reaching only three quarters of my height. When did I get so much taller than her? She used to seem like this invincible giant.
I wrap my arms around her small frame and inhale the lavender scent of her perfume. I’m sure she went to church this morning. I’m sure she went alone.
“I’ll come visit more. And we can talk about things whenever you want.”
She nods against my chest, and I let her go. She turns to her side, hiding her face from me, but I know it’s damp with tears. My mom is lonely. She’s been lonely since dad died, and it’s worse now. One day, though, she won’t be so lonely anymore. And she’ll find strength, and I’ll be here to support her. Neil isn’t permanent. I won’t let him be. My mom deserves better.
Chapter25
Lily
Anika had her secrets. She and I shared plenty of unspoken ones. I recognized her abuse. It came out in little ways, not just the self-harm. We both flinched at loud noises, and we spent one Friday night comparing bruises we’ve had. Neither of us said where those bruises came from; we both knew.
I sensed more darkness for Anika too. She had a line she wouldn’t cross when we talked about our family lives. She referred to her stepfather as lots of things, none of them nice. Only once did she say he made her feel uncomfortable, and she seemed to want to erase it the minute the word slipped out. I didn’t draw attention to it, and I never asked questions. If she wanted to share, I would listen. If she wanted to ignore that corner of her mind, I’d distract her.
I can tell Theo wants to ask me what I know about his sister’s experiences, but so far on our drive home, he hasn’t. I don’t know that I’d have much to tell. And I’m not sure I would if I did.
We pull over at a major truck stop and jog inside to escape the sprinkles starting to fall. It’s gray today, the cloud cover like a heavy blanket dripping on the people below. The humidity has made my hair wavy, and I thread my fingers through it in an attempt to tame what I refer to asfloof.
