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“Me?” I shouted. “You’re the one who lied.”
“You didn’t want her!”
“Did you tell her that?” I stepped into her space. Inched my face closer to hers. “I swear with everything I am if you ever told that girl I didn’t want her, I will tear your world apart one brick at a time.”
“You told Alma that,” she cried. “You told her if she ever got pregnant to terminate it immediately. That if she didn’t you’d put the baby out on the street. That you’d make sure she never could have children again.”
I staggered back with every sentence.
Terminate.
Out on the street.
Never have children.
“What are you talking about?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“You threatened Alma. You’re always threatening her. And I saw pictures of the bruises. She said she provoked you, but that’s no excuse.” JoJo’s face was red with rage. “I wasn’t going to let a child anywhere near an abuser. And Alma seemed to want to stay married to you, so I couldn’t be around without confronting you.”
“You think . . .” I grasped the counter. “You think I hither?” I couldn’t speak my ex-wife’s name, let alone think it.
JoJo nodded. “Her arms and legs and her side.” She shuddered as if recalling the images was disturbing.
“When? When did I supposedly hit her?” Oddly enough, I felt like punching something now.
“On the honeymoon,” JoJo whispered.
“She was in a skiing accident,” I cried. “Her ski hit a tree stump on a backwoods trail and she rolled into another tree. She was lucky it didn’t kill her.”
I, on the other hand, had been forced to die a slow death since my vows.
“W-w-what?”
“You think I would abuse my wife? My child?” The rage that had been tamped down by my confusion came back with vengeance.
“She said—”
“She’s a liar!” My shout reverberated through the kitchen only to be swallowed up by the whistle of the tea kettle.
JoJo slumped against the counter. Her face was as pale as it had been the night she nearly drowned. “I-I need to sit down.”
I poured hot water in the two mugs. I tucked the box of tea under my arm, snatched the handles of mugs, and steered JoJo out of the kitchen.
Always back to the laundry room.
It had been my place of solitude for so long. I couldn’t let her take that from me.
She tried to get on the washing machine, but failed. I hoisted her up and offered her a mug.
“She wouldn’t lie. Not about that.” It was the whisper of a woman trying to convince herself, not me.
“You need to realize your sister isn’t who you think she is.”
Wide green-gold eyes stared at me. Again someone looking for answers from me. She was the one with the answers. Not me.
“I know she’s not perfect.” She gripped the mug as if her life depended on it.
“That’s the understatement of the century,” I muttered. “Drink.” I motioned toward the tea. Why was I trying to comfort her?
