The Do-Over(75)

Nodding, his smile was a sad one. “I know. Camille was very excited when you showed up on her doorstep. She said you were Stacy’s gift from heaven.”

I had to look away. It was too early in the evening to shed tears, so I reached for my drink and grabbed a chicken wing.

“You knew?”

“Yes. The cards they made today were amazing.”

Shocked, I looked at Wes, half-eaten wing still in my mouth. It had never dawned on me. Quickly swallowing, I had to ask the question. “Wes, did you donate the laptops?”

Looking down in his lap, I could see his smile.

“Wes?” I asked again.

“It was the least I could do. You stepped in where you were needed to make a difference in those families’ lives and I wanted to make sure you had the tools to take the kids’ skills to the next level.”

I should have guessed it. “Well, thank you. I have to tell you that the highlight of my week is Saturday morning. That has been the one bright spot in a really tough time.”

“Thank you for not letting my sister’s legacy die.”

“Honestly, I was shocked when I learned that she taught art there. But Stacy really surprised me a lot. I miss her.”

“I do, too.”

There was no mistaking the pain in his eyes. I wanted to lean over and hug him, but we needed to let this conversation continue.

“So, I have something big to tell you, too.” Wes began.

My stomach knotted. I was definitely in glass half empty mode and had been since the weekend everything blew up.

“Okay,” I said, trepidation clearly in my voice.

“Actually, it’s something I think you’ll like,” he paused. “I fired Julien.”

“What?” The word came out louder than I anticipated. “What happened?” I implored, modulating my tone.

“Everything happened and had been happening for a long time. The situation with you just brought it to a head.”

I bit my tongue because I knew that pun was totally unintended and I needed to let it pass.

“Go on,” I urged and grabbed the jug, refilling both our glasses.

“After the fundraiser I confronted him about his conversation with you. And I knew he was lying to me. I’ve known the guy practically my entire life, he should know that I know when he’s bullshitting me. I’ve always treated him like family, but I’m not stupid.” He was very serious as he gazed into my eyes.

“So, what did he tell you?”

“He told me April 22, 1994 was the first time he met you.”

“Me?” I choked again on my drink. That was the last thing I was expecting.

“Yeah, he told me that he met you and a group of your friends at a movie theater in Manhattan and that you had sex with him in one of the back rows and then stalked him until you went away to college.”

I actually started to laugh at the absurdity of his lie. “Oh my God, Wes. The man is a sociopath.”

“Tara, I don’t know what the real story is, but I knew enough to know he was lying and it was at the expense of damaging you and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about my happiness. It was all about protecting himself.”

“Julien is missing a central thing that makes humans’ human – empathy and the ability to love others. I don’t know if it stems from his childhood trauma or if it is inherent. I’m not a professional. But what I do know is he’s dangerous in that he will hurt others intentionally with no remorse. No remorse at all.”

“So, what happened on April 22, 1994, Tara?”

Letting out a sigh, my heart was breaking having to tell him this. But Wes needed the truth. Getting up, I walked over to the bench where my purse was and took out my wallet. From the bill compartment, I pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“She was certain this would never see the light of day,” I began. “And the reason she never told you,” I paused, exhaling deeply, “was because she didn’t want you to look at her differently. She never wanted to let you down,” my voice cracked. “But this belongs to you.” I handed Wes Stacy’s letter.

With a surprised look on his face, he took the note from me and unfolded it. I watched his face as he read his sister’s words, the pain surfacing both quickly and deeply. He wiped his eyes with the back of his fingers and said, “Excuse me,” in a hoarse voice, got up and went below deck.

I didn’t follow, as that was a moment he needed to himself.

Wes was composed when he returned a few minutes later. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” He shook his head, “That f*cking son of a bitch.”

“I’m in total agreement with you on that one. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just processing that and feeling guilty that Stacy had to put up with him her whole life because of me.”

“You can’t beat yourself up over stuff you didn’t know. The only thing you can do is if you were feeling the least bit guilty about severing ties with him, now you know you totally did the right thing.” I grabbed a potato skin and dipped it in the sour cream. I was nervous eating now. “I can’t believe he made up that story about me. What a douche.”

Leaning toward me, Wes wiped a dab of sour cream from the corner of my lip and then licked it off his finger. “I think it was actually some underlying jealousy and hatred toward me, rather than at you. When we were younger, we’d walk into a club or a party together and all the girls wanted him. If he knew I liked a girl, he would go after her.”