I Wish You All the Best(80)

“Try what, Ben?” Dr. Taylor asks.

“To be a family again, I guess.”

Hannah still isn’t really looking at me. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ben?”

“Because I knew you’d overreact.”

“Well, I don’t really think that’s a reason.” She crosses her arms. “You should’ve shared that message with me. I could’ve gone with you.”

“Because the reunion at school went so well, didn’t it?”

“Ben,” Dr. Taylor chimes in. “Why did you think Hannah would overreact?”

“She always did when it came to Dad. I think she proved that at the show.”

Dr. Taylor jots something down. “Okay, now that I don’t know about.”

“I had an art show at school. And everything was going great until—” I start to say.

And Hannah interrupts me. “They showed up.”

“I see,” Dr. Taylor says. “And what happened?”

“They made a scene.” Hannah pouts. “Embarrassed me, Ben, their friends.”

I snort. “Yeah, they made a scene.”

“Well, they did!” Hannah actually looks surprised. Like, really? She can’t be serious right now.

“Hannah, none of that would’ve happened if you would’ve just stayed back. That’s why I sent Nathan to keep you away.”

“They shouldn’t have been there, Ben.”

“You think I don’t know that?” God, she’s really going for it. “I was handling it. They were going to leave before you saw them and started a fight. Just like you always used to.” I can hear my voice getting louder, but I can’t keep it back anymore.

“Oh, so I started the fights?” Hannah growls.

“Most of the time? Yeah! Were Mom and Dad kinda shitty? Of course, but you didn’t have to fight with them every chance you got. That’s what they wanted, Hannah. They thrived on that shit and so did you!”

“Ben …” Hannah’s eyes are wet.

“You always used to do that. You’d keep fighting with them even though you knew it was no use, that it was just a waste of time. And that’s what you did at school. Started a fight for no reason.”

“No reason? Ben, they abandoned you—”

“Well, they weren’t the only ones who’ve done that, are they?” I can’t keep it back anymore. It’s all about to flood over, the waves are lapping at the edge, and I can’t keep it back. “Ten years, Hannah. Ten years.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, but she already knows. There’s no way she can’t.

“For ten years you left me with them. With a note and a phone number, which might as well have been a big ‘fuck you, I’m done, you’re on your own now, kid!’” I collapse back into the couch, my shoulders lurching.

I don’t feel any better. In fact, I feel like I’m going to be sick.

And then the tears come.

“I was just a kid. I didn’t have a phone or anything. How was I supposed to call you without them knowing?”

“I didn’t …” Hannah runs a hand through her hair.

“But that was it. A phone number I couldn’t call, and an address to a place I couldn’t get to. I understand that you had to leave. That you couldn’t take it anymore, I’m not mad at you for that.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and Dr. Taylor slides the box of tissues toward me. “But I was alone. I was alone and scared, and I didn’t really know what’d happened to you. You knew how bad they could get, and you just left me to fight for myself.”

For a few seconds, the room is totally quiet, save for my quiet sobs. Hannah’s staring at the place on the floor, and Dr. Taylor’s looking between the two of us. I guess maybe waiting for the next explosion.

“Ben?” Dr. Taylor’s voice is surprisingly calm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I just …” I shake my head. “I didn’t mean that, Hannah, I’m sorry.”

“No.” She still isn’t looking at me. “No, I get it.” Then she buries her face in her hands and lets out this long groan. “Oh God, I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and then again. And again, like they’re the only two words left. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Hannah asks, her voice made up half of laughter, half of sobs. “I’m the one who should be fucking sorry. The first chance I got I left that house and never looked back.” Her eyes finally meet mine. My eyes, our father’s eyes. “I fucked up.”

“Well, to be honest, in the sort of situation you two came from, there are rarely winners,” Dr. Taylor says. “Tell me what you’re feeling, Hannah.”

Hannah blows into a tissue, not the most graceful sound. “That I messed up.”

“Yes, well.” Dr. Taylor chuckles. “That I understand, but you must be feeling something deeper than that?”

“I’m just sort of confused, and angry with myself.”

“About?”

“How right Ben is.” She plucks another tissue, and wipes under her eyes. “When I left, I still thought about them, almost every day. Until, I guess …” Hannah’s voice falters, and she starts to shake her head. “My husband, Thomas, he didn’t even know about Ben until we’d been dating for a few years.”