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I told Brett right after because he needed to know everything. I knew there were new DNA testing measures, and they would’ve taken Ben’s DNA, but I hadn’t known what would happen after that.
But when I told Brett, I also explained to him why I loved when he called me Little Billie.
“Our father was abusive. He hurt our mom. He’s the reason she didn’t want us to have friends. She didn’t want us to get attached because we kept moving to get away from him. He’d find us and then when he’d leave, we’d run again. It happened over and over until, well, until Jojo died. That was the end of it. My mom saw a way where I could be safe from him.” I hated talking about my father. It was easier to talk about him as another person, as someone I didn’t know. When I referred to him as someone related to me, it twisted up all my insides. It sickened me. He sickened me. Which was why I said, “He used to call me Little Billie.”
Brett had tensed, looking distraught for a brief moment.
I shook my head, needing him to understand. “You took that name from him. It’s yours. That’s why I loved when you said it the first time, because it was like another part of me was stripped away from him. You claimed that piece of me for you. He couldn’t have that anymore.” My voice shook. “When you live in fear for so long, you don’t realize all the pieces that get taken from you. That was a piece I didn’t know I’d lost to him, until I got it back. Thank you.”
He was still frowning. “I call you that during sex. That’s—”
I laid a hand to his arm, hoping, praying, he’d understand. Really understand. “I know and because you did, it’s in no way connected to him anymore. It’s not his at all.”
“But—”
“My dad wasn’t abusive to me. He hurt my mom, but I didn’t know that. And my mom said he took Ben with him somewhere. I didn’t know that either, not until the last day I saw her. But he never did anything to me or with me. He was just cold. That’s what I remember feeling around him. Cold and distant, but I could always feel his anger. It scared me. He scared me. I grew up associating fear with him, so when he called me Little Billie, there was no bad association with it. It was his nickname for me. My mom slipped one day and called me that same nickname and he got angry.” I stuffed down a shudder. “Really angry. I think he hurt her that day because she sent Ben and me to the park. She said we could stay there all day and get ice cream on the way back.” Regret sat on my shoulders. “I wish I’d known what was really going on.”
“Your mom protected you from that for a reason. Don’t take that away from her.”
He was right. I nodded, drawing in some air. “Do you understand about the name? It’s not his anymore, and because you use it mostly during sex, there’s absolutely no association with him. You burned it all up and now I love when you call me that. I love hearing it from you. It’s only your name for me. No one else’s. Just you and just me and it makes me want you every time I hear it now. You did that. Do you understand?”
He had, but like everything and anything that was connected to my past or my brother or now my father, there was a time period afterwards where I couldn’t quite breathe freely, wondering how much could Brett take, how many more truths before he decided he didn’t want me anymore?
It hadn’t happened.
Today, I needed to tell the rest.
The back door opened and Lo ran out first, going right to my door.
She hauled me out, hugging me tight and declaring, “I decided. You’re never going to California. Never again. Brett can go and you guys can have a Zoom relationship. Zexting. You can make it a thing. I’m not letting you go. Also, Roger really wants to go to that place you and Brett go to all the time now. What’s it called?”
“Rinascita.” I hugged her back.
I hope you feel the same in an hour.
I had two things to tell them.
I started with the bad one first.
Everyone was sitting down in the living room. We’d gotten through the hugs, and all the beverages and snacks had been passed around. Everyone was comfortable. They were ready.
I sat in a chair in the corner. Brett was behind me, half sitting on the chair so I felt more than just his hand. I needed as much of him as possible, but I started.
“I—uh—I always thought my mom gave me up back then.”
Someone gasped. I was guessing Lo because Vicky wasn’t a gasper.
I hoped it was Lo and not Vicky. I didn’t want to start this out with her already feeling betrayed by me.
I was looking down. I could do that, for this first part, but when I needed to tell them the end, I’d look. I’d look them all in the eyes. I was strong enough to do that.
“I just never knew because she left me at the police station and then she died. I didn’t know if it was an accident where she was trying to run away, her and Ben going on the road when she knew I’d be safe from my dad.”
A second gasp.
My heart hurt because that was Vicky. The first gasp had been her too.
I kept going. “I never told you guys about him, and I know you only know what was in my file, which was that I told the police I didn’t know who he was. That was a lie. I’ve known who my father is all my life. I’ve known him until I turned twelve. That was one of the last times I saw him in person.”
