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“Babe… please…”
“What did you catch him doing?” I screech almost hysterically, my lower lip trembling.
“He was swapping out your birth control pills,” she says, so quietly I can barely hear her.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh, my eyes widen in horror.
Her hands go up defensively. “It was already too late! I was going to tell you. He begged me not to, but it was already too late! You found out you were pregnant the next day. I… panicked. I didn’t want to ruin that for you. Caleb said there was no use telling you now. God… I’m so sorry.” Her tears fall, but I feel no sympathy.
“Did Tommy know?”
“No!” She shakes her head frantically. “No of course he didn’t. Please Gwen… forgive me. I swear I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted nothing to do with it but… you were already so down about the pregnancy. I thought that if I told you… it would just tip you over the edge.”
“You should have told me!” I shout.
“I know… but you only had months left with Caleb and then that turned into weeks. He deteriorated fast. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to marry you before…” She sniffs and wipes her nose on a tissue from her pocket. “It was awful. I wanted to tell you so many times. I wanted you to figure it out.”
“How… what was wrong with him? He always seemed fine to me.”
“Brain tumour. I’ve forgotten the name of it. He’d been in remission for years. They said they couldn’t remove it, but it should remain benign. It didn’t. It was at the very top of the back of his neck. You’ll have to ask Nathan; he knows more about it than I do.”
“What else do you know?” I need to know as much as possible. I need to know everything.
“He was sick with it when he was little. He didn’t get the all clear until he was about thirteen. Nathan… he was going to tell you. He was so angry.”
I nod, sorting out my thoughts as everything clicks into place.
I remember asking Nathan not long ago….
“Was… umm… was Caleb…”
“No.”
“I don’t understand why it was just you that…”
“Caleb rarely went to our grandfather’s. Maybe he didn’t have the opportunity.”
I remember not believing him. Something didn’t seem right.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad that he wasn’t… I wish you hadn’t had to… but…”
“Spit it out.”
“It makes no sense that he’d only target you.”
Caleb was too sick to stay at his grandfather’s, too sick to be a subject of his abuse. Nathan was probably pushed out so his parents could take better care of Caleb.
I want to be angry. I want to be sad. I want to be… anything! But… I can’t muster any kind of emotion. I don’t know how to deal with this.
“Gwen,” Sasha says softly, her hand resting on my shoulder.
I look at her, my eyes as hollow as I feel inside. “I need your help with something.”
“Anything,” she promises.
Good, because for this she’s going to need a backbone.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
I haven’t slept all night. I’m not sure why. I don’t feel anything, so I’d probably be able to sleep easily. Exhaustion is definitely one of the more prominent feelings in my body right now.
Sasha is curled up in the chair by the window, her eyes puffy from crying. I haven’t spoken to her in a couple of hours. I don’t have anything to say.
She hasn’t said anything either; she doesn’t have anything to say.
It’s light out when I hear a car in the driveway. I don’t move from my spot on the couch.
When the door opens, Sasha sits bolt upright in her seat and stares at me. I remain numb, my head resting on my hand on the arm of the couch.
Nathan walks in looking dishevelled and worried. I try to muster up an ounce of sympathy at his time inside. I fail.
“Hey,” he says warily and his eyes go to Sasha. “What’s going on? You look like you haven’t slept a wink.” His tone is warm, soothing. I hate him for trying to be nice right now.
He cautiously walks this way and takes the seat closest to me. His hand goes to my thigh and I can’t be bothered to hold back the wince.
His eyes go to Sasha, who nods towards the table. He glances at it, looks back to me and then whips his head around to stare at the table once more. When he fully reads the bold words on the sheet of paper, he lets out a choked gasp and grips my thigh with an almost bruising force.
“Gwen?” He whispers, his shaking hand moving from my thigh to my face. “Look at me. Please.” I do. He winces at the look he sees there. “I love you.”
Does he? I can’t even remember what love is anymore.
