Halfway to You(103)

On the short drive to the bar, I drove behind a Camry going five under the speed limit. There was a BABY ON BOARD sign in their rear window. It reminded me of when Penny found out she was pregnant and how fretful she was. I had been so jealous. All I wanted was a family—even then—and suddenly Penny had one but wasn’t sure she even wanted to keep it. I loved Penny fiercely, but seeing her have everything I wanted just dropped in her lap . . . it was hard to take.

Still, back then, I did all I could to support her. I threw her a baby shower, set up her registry, researched the best strollers, and bought her a BABY ON BOARD sign for her car. Penny even asked me to be the godmother.

The gesture of consolation stung.

And then, of course, I didn’t even get that. When I lost my sister, my first thought wasn’t shock over the tragedy of it. My first thought was that I wouldn’t even be a godmother. You can’t control your thoughts amid a tragedy like that, but oh, the guilt of my first thought corroded my heart. I’d loved Penny dearly, as you know. And I’ve struggled with my grief ever since, just as Todd did. But that doesn’t change the fact that I had a selfish mind on the day she died.

When I saw the BABY ON BOARD sign in that Camry, I sped around it. In light of my argument with Bob, it felt like a taunt, but it also reminded me of Penny, and that guilt unhinged me just a little. Just enough. I sank into another daydream of kissing a stranger. As far as I was concerned, it was just another fantasy to occupy my torment while I drove.

I didn’t expect to see Todd sitting in a dark corner of the bar. Relieved to see a familiar face—thinking he’d keep me from doing something stupid—I collapsed into the chair opposite his. Todd had broken up with his girlfriend because he was still hung up on Ann, and he was drinking to forget. I told him I was drinking to forget too. He handed me his whiskey, and I knocked it back. Then more appeared, and I knocked those back too. And soon we were spilling our feelings. Soon, our broken hearts morphed into a mutual understanding. Two childhood friends, drunk and broken and desperate for comfort.

We connected over our shared sorrows in the worst possible way. And this is the part where we made a mistake. A fucked-up mistake.

I cheated on my husband with my dead sister’s widower. It’s a horrible, ugly fact that will forever weigh on my conscience. The only reason I don’t regret that night is you, Maggie. I hate that you came from pain and sorrow and mistakes, but you will always remain a blessing. I love you more than anything.

That night, I returned home saturated with self-reproach. I might’ve wanted Bob to wake up, but not like this. I resolved to lock this skeleton in the closet. I reasoned that the emotional rot of guilt—forever—would be an apt punishment. But as you know, this wasn’t a mistake I could so easily forget.

Weeks later, my period was late, and I knew—I knew—that it was Todd’s. I had no one else to talk to about our dirty secret, so I called him. He bailed on his trip to Tahiti with Ann, even though I told him not to. A few days later, I was regretting telling him at all; I didn’t want anything to do with Todd. I hated him for being there at that bar—for being just as weak as I was that night.

That’s when I lied to him, Maggie. I told Todd that I lost you, hoping to save us both some shame and regret.

Then I came clean to my husband.

Bob and I moved forward, because we wanted a child and because Bob is a saint. That’s the only way I can explain it. He could’ve left me. He could’ve walked away. But remember when I said that Bob would do anything for his family? Well, he did the impossible thing: he forgave me. He stepped in, and we never spoke to Todd again—or at least, we tried.

Five years later, Ann was the one who figured it out. She saw your picture in some correspondence with Keith, and she recognized Todd’s eyes—you have Todd’s eyes, Maggie. And since Todd had told Ann about our affair and my “miscarriage,” Ann put the story together—the timeline, the lies, everything.

Though they were no longer together, she called me and urged me to come clean to Todd, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to blow up the life Bob and I had built for you, Maggie, because it was a happy life, and at the time, Bob and I had been naive enough to think that we had put all the secrets behind us.

This weighed on Ann, though.

She betrayed me and risked your happiness, Maggie, by confiding in Keith. And once Keith knew the truth, it was a huge mess, because of course he confronted Todd. For a while the whole family was angry and hurting and messy—and how could I blame anyone for feeling that way? I had disrespected everyone I loved by keeping that secret.

I was humiliated and furious with Ann. I still am.

But I’m even angrier with myself, for hurting so many people with my lies. Most of all you.

I don’t know if you remember, but Todd came to meet you, once, at a family barbecue. He didn’t stay long. After his loss, Todd was terrified of committing. You didn’t deserve his uncertainty, so that afternoon, I told him he had to stay away. We agreed to give you an uncomplicated childhood. Todd was a good man, Maggie. He had his flaws, but he stayed out of your life for good reasons—or at least, good intentions.

When you called me a few nights ago, I told you about Todd to stall you—to save time—so that I could tell you the whole truth in person. Because Maggie, I know it must seem unforgivable, but we lied for you. We thought we were doing the right thing, protecting you from this awful secret. I was terrified you’d hate me as I hated myself. I wanted to spare you the awfulness—we all did—and I admit I wanted to spare myself from the shame too. But I realize now that we were harming you, and for that, I am so sorry.