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“Son of a bitch.” Victor slaps the table making Gabi jump.
“Getting mad isn’t going to help.” Isabelle tries to defuse her husband. “Let Mick explain.”
Victor is still boiling, but he stays quiet to listen.
“It started after I told the coach at NC State that I was quitting. I had gotten out of rehab, I’d stopped drinking, I was planning to reapply to NYU. I wanted to make you proud.” Mick turns to Mama T. “I wanted you to see that all you’d done for me hadn’t been a waste.”
“Micah.” Her brow puckers in the making of a sad frown. “We were always proud of you. Even when you faltered, it didn’t change how much we loved you. It was never a waste.”
“I know you felt that way. But I wanted to be worthy of it. I was determined to stay sober after my first stint in rehab. I hadn’t touched a drink in ten weeks until Malcolm showed up at my apartment with a bottle of whiskey and an ultimatum.”
“What ultimatum?” Victor demands impatiently. “What could he possibly have over you?”
“My family.”
“Us?” Mama T says, mirroring the confused look of all the eyes around the table.
“I never wanted you to know.” Mick’s gaze shifts between Mama T and Victor. “I never wanted you to have to hear this.”
“Jesus, Mick,” Victor says in pure frustration. “Stop taking care of us and just get it said.”
Mick’s left hand reaches under the table, seeking mine. A telling gesture that touches me deeply. I give it an encouraging squeeze.
“I’ve been keeping this secret for a very long time. Since I was a kid. I kept it then because Malcolm would have hurt you if you knew. But he later used that silence against me.”
“I’m not following, Micah.” Mama T searches his face. “What secret?”
“That he…he used to beat me and my mother.”
“¡Dios mío!” Tears spring into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely. “So sorry you ever had to find out.”
“You don’t apologize for telling me.” She reaches over to hug him. “My precious boy. My heart hurts for you and your darling mother.”
I wipe at my own watering eyes. Gabi and Maria do the same. Dwayde looks shell-shocked and Victor looks fit to kill.
“Did you tell anyone?” Mama T asks when she finally releases him.
“Only Dee. But I made her promise me she wouldn’t tell you,” he says in my defense. “She wanted to. Begged me to. But I was eighteen when I told her. I was about to go to college. There was nothing you could have done then. I thought it was better that you never know.”
“It wasn’t better.” Victor seethes. “We would have gotten you out of there no matter how old you were. Jesus, I can’t believe I didn’t know. That you wouldn’t tell me. We’re closer than brothers.”
“Victor—” Isabelle tries to interject.
“If you are going to tell me to calm down, don’t bother. How didn’t I know?”
“Because I hid it. He rarely left marks where you could see them. They were under my clothes and I made sure to keep covered up until they healed.”
“All those times…” Victor shakes his head as if the memories are bombarding him. “When you made excuses not to go swimming…when you suddenly got modest and changed in the bathroom…when I asked you about the welt on your leg and you said you got it climbing the tree out back…and the cut under your eye that you said happened from falling on the ice…and—”
“Victor, stop,” Mick pleads. “I would have said and done anything to keep you from knowing. And Malcolm knew that. He blackmailed me with it. He said if I didn’t keep playing ball, he’d tell you.”
“Christ.” Victor is uncontainable. “After he abused you for years, you played ball for him, you bought him a goddamn house…cars…you did all that because you didn’t want us to know?”
“I couldn’t let him hurt you after all you had done for me.” Emotion swells in Mick’s voice. “You gave me everything that was good and decent. That was normal. You took me in after my mother died andtreated me like I was yours. You made me family. You saved me. I owed you.”
“I don’t want to hear that crap.” Victor shoots up from the table. “We’re not keeping score, Mick. We never have. You don’t owe us a damn thing.”
