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“I can see she already has you wrapped around her finger.” She smiles, her light eyes sparkling.
“You know it.”
She leans back into the couch, making herself comfortable, but does a double-take when her eyes scan across the TV screen. I turn to look at the TV and see another picture of Bernie.
“What’s going on?” she asks in a quiet voice.
“Keane called me about this a little while ago.” I unmute the TV and worry for the first time how Lilah’s going to take this news. She was one of his victims after all.
“Oh my God.” She lifts her hand to her mouth, covering her astonished gasp.
Tears well in her eyes as she sits ramrod-straight, staring at the TV. The news anchors debate what will happen next and how these few brave women who have come forward might just be the tip of the iceberg. Her breathing slowly becomes more and more labored while pictures of Bernie flash across the screen. I slide down the couch until I’m beside her and take her hand. Will the sight of her in pain ever not feel like a knife jabbing me in my heart? I can’t just leave her and return to my hotel room like nothing’s happened.
I probably have to accept that a part of me will always care for Lilah, which I rationalize isn’t a bad thing since she’s the mother of my daughter. Anything that adversely affects Monica’s mom affects her too.
Since she told me what went down with Bernie, I’ve only concentrated on how it affected me, the future I lost as a result. But in this moment, I understand what she lost too. I have even more newfound respect for her sobriety, knowing what her father did to her and witnessing firsthand the spiral it sent her on. The fact that she was able to stay sober after Bernie used his power and influence over her says how strong she is.
Guilt seeps into my pores as I watch her terrified gaze on the TV screen. Could I have done more to protect her? Everyone knew Bernie’s reputation, and there’d always been murmurings of his casting couch escapades. Sure, I didn’t know about her meeting with him, but was there something I could have done to prevent him from taking advantage of her?
“Are you okay?” I ask, squeezing her hand.
“It wasn’t just me. I mean, I didn’t really think it was, I suppose, but I never gave it much thought. There was so much going on in my life at the time and then Monica was born and…” Her eyes widen and she looks away from the screen and at me. “You don’t think they’re going to find out about me, do you? I cannot be in the press.”
I shake my head, dropping her hand and giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “No way. Unless you’ve told someone else who would sell your story?”
“No, no. I mean, I saw a counselor for a bit and I talked some about it in my meetings, but I never gave details that anyone could put two-and-two together.” She heaves a big sigh and looks at her lap.
I place my finger under her chin and force her to meet my gaze. “Then it will be fine. I’m sure a lot more women will come forward, but it’s entirely your decision whether you want to be one of them.”
She shakes her head and a tear slips free. Before I can stop myself, I use my thumb to wipe the tear away. Realizing my mistake, I let my hand drop and inch back on the cushion a bit.
“I couldn’t bear for Monica to find out.” She wipes at another tear that falls, and my fingers twitch in response. “I know that someday I’ll have to tell her about how it was growing up and my addiction issues, but she’s too young to deal with that now. I just want to keep her in her bubble.”
“Then what you told me stays between us.” Then I realize I’ve told Adelaide what happened, and the guilt that was a seedling inside me grows to a creeping vine slithering through my body. “You should know that I told Adelaide though.”
Lilah’s forehead scrunches up and hurt flashes across her face for a second before she nods slowly. “That makes sense, I guess. You guys are getting married. She won’t…?”
“No. No, she’d never share that with anyone. I trust her.”
Her lips press together. “I’m glad you have someone you can trust in your life. I really am.” A sad smile parts her lips.
“You’ll find someone.”
She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.” She glances at the TV screen again then stands abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should head to bed. Monica likes to be up at the crack of dawn.”
“Okay, yeah. Listen, don’t let this”—I gesture to the TV—“mess with your head. You’ve built a great life for you and Monica.”
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she says, “I won’t. I’ll go to a meeting tomorrow. I’ve been going more lately… with everything going on and the past coming back up. It helps.”
“I’m glad. Who will watch Monica for you?” I ask, stepping toward the door.
“Eileen. She loves having her over there. Her own kids have long since grown and moved on, so I think she enjoys having the energy of a little one around.”
I can tell by her smile that she thinks fondly of her neighbor.
I’m torn. I want to offer to stay, text the pilot and tell him to change our flight time, but Adelaide will pitch a fit. I’ve promised her that tomorrow afternoon, we'll finalize the invitations before they’re sent out next month. In the end, I decide not to push my luck with Adelaide. This has been a big curveball for her too, and I need her onboard.
“All right. Well, if Monica needs anything this week, let me know. Otherwise I’ll see you next Friday.”
