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“You kept him from me,” I said, closing my eyes as I tried to calm my rioting emotions. “Jesus. Three years. I don’t even knowhowhe knows half the words he spouts.”
“I don’t either,” she joked. It fell flat.
“I just don’t get it,” I said finally. “I really don’t. You knew you could come back here. If you thought I was gonna be an asshole, you still knew that my family would take you in. They fuckin’ love you and always have.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“It’s exactly as simple as that,” I snapped. The tether I held myself back with was fraying, and I wasn’t sure how to stop it.
“You have no idea what it was like,” she hissed, pointing at me.
“Right,” I scoffed.
“I was eighteen years old!”
“So was I!” I yelled, pointing at my chest. “I was the same goddamn age, Emilia.”
“Yes,” she said, taking a step forward. “And the only thing you had to worry about was whether or not one of your cousins would have time to buy you beer that weekend. You didn’t have to worry about if Rhett was eating enough or pooping enough or getting enough sleep. You didn’t have to panic every time he had a fever or a diaper rash or bumped his head on the kitchen table!”
“I didn’t get to.” I struggled to lower my voice, but it was no use. “You took that from me.”
“I didn’t want you to have to worry about those things! I didn’t want to be a burden.”
“Instead I was worryin’ if you were okay,” I shouted. “If you were safe. If you were out there somewhere tryin’ to get back to me. If you loved me. If you hated me. If your parents had done somethin’ to you.”
“You seem to be doing just fine,” she burst out, throwing her hands in the air. “You have a good job. You joined the club. You bought a fucking house!”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing joylessly. “I bought a house. This fuckin’ house. Because I broke in after the old owners left and fuckin’demolishedthe place. That wall.” I pointed, shame burning in my gut. “That wall. That wall.” I dropped my arm. “It was so fucked up, I had to buy it, or I woulda gone to fuckin’ jail.”
“You what?” she breathed, looking at me in confusion.
“I was a nineteen-year-old kid,” I spat, embarrassment creeping up my neck. “I thought, fuck, I don’t know what I thought. That you’d left me a fuckin’ note in a wall. That if I could just get in here, I’d find somethin’.”
“Micky.” Her eyes grew glassy.
“It had been almost a fuckin’ year, and I’d heard nothin’. You’d just disappeared like fuckin’smoke. So, I broke in here. Searched the place from top to bottom. When I couldn’t find anythin’ I started tearin’ up carpet. Puttin’ holes in walls. Climbin’ through the crawlspace under the floor.” The memory of those few days burned in my gut. My worry had become desperation and that desperation had morphed into a fury that burned so hot I hadn’t felt it before or since. “By the time Rumi figured out where I’d been, the house was a fuckin’ shell. My dad had to swoop in and make an offer on the place and then carry the loan until I could buy it from him.”
“Oh my god,” she whispered, looking around the room.
“And the whole time you were fine,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Livin’ in Arizona. Goin’ to school. Havin’ my kid.”
“I wasn’t fine,” she replied, shaking her head. “I was terrified. I missed you so much that I was sick with it.”
“Sure seems like it.” I didn’t bother trying to hide the sarcasm.
“You know what it was like for me?” she said, her voice quiet. “I cried the entire way to Arizona. Threw up. Cried some more. I laid in the back seat, hoping that we’d stop for the night somewhere and there you’d be, waiting to bring me back home. I watched the front of my house for months. Years. Waiting for the day I’d see your truck show up, like some knight in shining armor. I searched every face on campus, thinking you’d find me there. I lay in bed every night, wishing, hoping, praying that you’d show up and I wouldn’t have to face my parents alone. But you didn’t.”
I stared at her.
“Of course you didn’t,” she said sadly. “You didn’t know where I was. You didn’t know I needed you. I understood that. But like I said, thinking you know something and believing it are two entirely different things. I believed that you’d show up, even knowing that I hadn’t given you any clues. I couldn’t imagine that life or the universe or whatever would keep you from finding me. I had to believe that, or I would’ve spiraled so badly I would’ve never been able to pull myself out of it.”
“All it would’ve taken was a single phone call,” I said hoarsely. “One letter.”
“I don’t think you really ever understood what my house was like,” she replied with a grimace. “It made me sick to defy my parents. It was like, the minute I did something wrong, they’d know, and the panic of that was a physical thing. The only time I’d ever been able to do that was with you. You made me feel safe. You made me feel like the consequences would be worth it, and once you were out of my reach, I lost any shred of courage I’d had.”
“I would’ve come to get you,” I ground out, my throat tight. “I would’ve been there so fast.”
“I understand that now,” she replied, tears dropping onto her cheeks. “But I didn’t know it then. It took every single shred of courage and self-confidence I had to go against their wishes and keep Rhett, after that, I had nothing left. Not for you, not for anyone.”
