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My breath is lost after that tirade and my stress is high.
“I don’t even know what to say to any of that.” She goes silent again. “Do you want to bring them here or shall I come there?”
“I’ll bring them to you, first thing. Is that okay?”
“That’s fine, I’m free.” Pause. “That poor boy.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I wish I could kill them all.”
“Karma. Don’t ruin your good fortune for them. They aren’t worth it.” I hear a door open and close and then the wind hit the speaker of her phone. “Was Caleb molested too?”
“No, that was one of my first questions too. I think it was because he was terminally ill.”
“This is crazy, Gwen.”
She’s right. I still can’t wrap my head around any of it. “I know. I’ll be there at about ten tomorrow. Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course. I love you. This is what families do.”
That’s basically what Patricia said too.
“I’ll let you go,” she says. “Try to sleep.”
Immediately I race back inside and up the stairs to quietly pack the kids’ bags. Nathan probably won’t be happy to be away from them on his days off but right now, with everything that has happened, he needs some healing and so do I.
The kids don’t need to be around us for this. They’ll have much more fun with their nan.
When I return home from dropping off the kids with my mum, Nathan is still sleeping. It’s almost one in the afternoon. I’m worried about him. He didn’t sleep last night; he just laid beside me, holding me in his arms, staring into space.
I kiss his temple though he doesn’t stir. He’s wiped, not just physically but mentally and emotionally and no doubt spiritually.
He needs me to take care of him today and that’s exactly what I’ll do. Right after I send that vicious bitch a very angry text.
Gwen: I don’t believe in the existence of a higher being. I don’t believe in a lot of things that I can’t see. Except love. We gave you that. Nathan, after all you did, gave you that. I gave you that. My kids gave you that. You didn’t deserve it any more than he deserved a lifetime of what he had before me and our kids. I know that you probably won’t even read this. I just know that I can’t let this go unsaid. You have ruined him. Not because of what you took from our house, but because of what you took from his soul. He was happy. For once he was fucking happy. You were back, his mummy, the person who was supposed to protect him. He genuinely believed that you didn’t know about the abuse. I let him believe it, despite my doubts.
How can you sleep at night knowing what he’s been through? How can you sleep at night knowing you’re protecting a man who ruined your son’s childhood?
How can you just walk away from him again and our kids?
I’d ask what did he do in a past life to deserve this, but I don’t believe in reincarnation. This, to me, is the only life we get. This is the only life you’ll get with us. How can a man that abused you and your son for so long make you happy? Are you willing to lose everything that’s worth a damn in your pathetic existence in order to protect a man who made your existence pathetic in the first place? You won’t get another chance at this. Do the right thing. It won’t repair what has happened and it won’t bring you back into our hearts, but at least when you’re old and on your death bed, you won’t be begging for Nathan’s forgiveness just like your father in law did. Nathan didn’t forgive him, by the way, just like he won’t forgive you.
Bring the DVD back. Let Nathan have his justice. Fucking redeem yourself. Don’t be weak. Any ounce of motherly instinct you have left needs to be channelled right now.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Hey.” Nathan blinks a few times, sounding and looking tired.
“I made your favourite soup and your favourite cake,” I whisper, placing the tray onto the bedside table and then sitting beside him on the bed.
“What time is it?”
I glance at the digital clock on my side of the bed and respond, “just gone five.”
“In the afternoon?” His face is flat. He doesn’t seem upset at his late awakening. I nod and gently caress his jaw. “I should get up.”
“You’ll feel better after a shower and some food.”
He doesn’t answer, nor does he look convinced.
I place the tray onto his lap, relieved when he starts to eat.
“This is good,” he murmurs, smiling a little. “Where are the kids?”
“I took them to my mum’s.”
“You drove all the way to Skeg and back?”
“It was nice to clear my head.”
