Secret Lucidity(87)

She stares at me as if I’m poisonous, and my fear for what will happen if she refuses sears through my chest.

“For once, put me first,” I beg, and the tears finally surface. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you see this is the right thing to do.”

“Tell me the truth then.”

She asks the impossible. I can’t do that—won’t do that. I don’t trust her not to take my truth and use it against me, punishing me for her misery.

“You already know the truth.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

I shake my head as panic terrorizes my pulse. “I can’t do that.”

“Then I suggest you leave my room.”

“I love him,” I blurt out in near hysteria, depleted in my desperation as my cheeks coat in tears. “Is that enough, because that’s all I can give you. I love him, and I won’t say anything else, but just know that he is a good man just like dad was to you. Please . . . please don’t destroy his life just because you hate me.”




August

(3 months later)



A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and into my eye, temporarily blinding me with its sting.

“Why on earth does summer have to be so hot?” I whine as I wipe my forehead on my sleeve and load one more box into the trunk of my car.

“I still can’t believe you’re leaving.”

Linze hands me the box she’s holding, and I add it to the others before turning to the only person who helped me get through the past few months. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. This summer has been nothing but a chamber of anguish stuck frozen in time. The only light that kept me going was the countdown to today: moving day. And even though I’m sad to leave the only lifeline I have left, she isn’t enough to keep me here in Oklahoma.

I doubt there’s a person in this town that doesn’t know that I’m the girl David Andrews “raped”. And why shouldn’t they when cameras were allowed in the courtroom the day he stood in front of the judge and pled guilty to raping me. I, along with countless others, sat glued to the television as my love lied to the court. Hearing such repulsive words come out of the same mouth that used to kiss me so sweetly was a dagger to my heart, and I bled for weeks.

I was so conflicted afterward—I still am—it’s hard to know whether I should be happy or sad that they settled on the plea deal. It’s a mixture of emotions that I still haven’t been able to work through, but above all, I am forever grateful that my mother stepped up for me. I can’t even explain the shock when I woke up the following morning after begging her to help David.

“What are you doing?” I ask when my mom walks into the kitchen, sober and dressed.

She takes a bottle of water from the fridge and then turns to look at me. She doesn’t speak right away as I watch tears puddle in her eyes.

“I’m going to the DA’s office . . . for you.”

A blissful exhale of relief deflates my lungs, and I want to run into her arms and thank her profusely, but I don’t. I just stand, too shocked to move. When I open my mouth, I can’t even speak. My chest aches in unbounding gratitude, and when a tear falls down my face, she reaches over and wipes it, touching my scar for the very first time.

“I’m doing this because I love you,” she says, her voice trembling in emotions she’s buried so deeply I didn’t think I’d ever see them again. She grabs her purse and starts to walk away, but then she stops and turns back to me, adding, “And just because your father was better at loving you than I was, it doesn’t mean that I never wanted you. I did. I wanted you very much—I still do.”

Her confession that morning touched every exposed wound she ever gave me. Her words did nothing to heal the damage she had already done, but they did remind me that, underneath all the sorrow, misery, and alcohol, my mother was still there. That I hadn’t lost her entirely.

After that day, she went right back to drinking. I don’t know if she has it in her to stop, but I’d like to think that, with me leaving, maybe she’ll be a little better—a little happier, because no longer will she have me to serve as a reminder of everything her heart weeps for.

“Okay, say goodbye to me before I start crying,” Linze says.

I look to Wild Blonde who, at one point, was practically my sister. We’ve never gone back to the friendship we had before my dad died, not that I was expecting to. I’ve changed way too much for things to ever be the same between us, but I fear the harm I might have done to myself if she hadn’t come back for me.

I probably wouldn’t be standing here right now.

I wrap my arms around her in a sincere hug. “I don’t know how to ever thank you.”

“Just promise me that you’ll go to North Carolina and have fun. Pretty soon, all of this mess will be a distant memory.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

The minute her eyes water, she lowers her sunglasses. “Drive safe,” she says, trying not to cry. “Call me when you get there, okay?”

“I will.”

I watch as she walks to her car, and when she opens her door, she says, “Remember . . . fun!”

“I got it. Fun!” I tell her before she drives away, but I don’t know if I can follow through on that promise.