Without Merit(71)

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to go back to that moment, and I don’t want to hear his excuses.

“As soon as it happened, I knew I had done something terrible. She ran out of my bedroom, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted by what I did to Merit. And I’ve spent every day since then regretting it. Trying to make up for it.”

I shake my head, trying to hold back my tears. “You’re a liar,” I say, finally looking up at him. “You haven’t done a damn thing to make up for it! You never explained yourself and you’ve never once apologized to me!”

The tears have made an appearance, so I swipe at them angrily.

“Merit,” Utah says.

I suck in air through my nose and then force it back out. It’s an angry sound.

“Please look at me.”

I fall back against the couch and look up at him. He actually looks remorseful, but he has had an entire day to practice this speech. He squeezes the back of his neck and then squats down in front of me so that we’re at eye level. I fold my arms over my chest and hug myself.

“I am so sorry,” he says. “Every day, every hour, every second since then I’ve regretted that moment. And I’ve never apologized because . . .” He looks down at the floor for a moment. When he lifts his eyes back to mine, there are tears in them. “I was hoping you forgot. Praying you forgot. If I had known how much it affected you I would have done everything I could to make up for it and I mean that, Merit. The fact that you remember and you’ve been angry at me all these years . . . I can’t even tell you how much regret I have.”

A tear slides down my chin and lands on my arm. I wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt.

“Merit, please,” he says, his voice desperate. “Please tell them I have never done anything even remotely inappropriate since that day.” He looks over at Honor and stands up. “You, too, Honor. Tell them,” he says, waving toward my father.

Honor nods and looks at my father. “He’s telling the truth, Dad. He’s never touched me.”

My father looks at me and I nod, too, but I can’t speak yet. Too many emotions are caught in my throat. But I can tell by the look on my father’s face that he wants to make sure I’m okay with Utah moving back in.

Everyone is looking at me now, even Utah.

I nod and manage to choke out a quiet “I believe him.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Victoria eventually stands up. “Okay, then.” She begins walking toward the kitchen, when she turns around and says, “I’d appreciate it if you all would clean up this damn mess you made.”

Luck laughs under his breath. Utah faces me and mouths “Thank you.”

I look away from him, because I don’t want him to think I’m doing him any favors. I can’t just let go of years of anger simply because he finally apologized.

“Meeting adjourned,” my father says, clapping his hands together. “You heard your stepmother. Clean up your mess.”

The meeting may be adjourned, but this is just one of many issues that needs addressing in this family.



We spend the next fifteen minutes cleaning the kitchen in silence. I don’t think any of us really know what to say. It was a very sobering family meeting. The Vosses aren’t used to so much honesty in one day.

“How did pizza sauce end up on the window?” Luck asks, wiping the glass with a wet rag. “Looks like I missed a good fight.”

I close the dishwasher once it’s loaded and hit the Start button. Honor washes her hands in the sink next to me. “I’ve got pizza sauce in my bra,” she says. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Utah walks to the pantry and grabs his box of letters. Pretty sure this will be the first time he’s ever changed the marquee at night. He walks toward the door and pauses, then turns around and looks at me. “You want to help?”

My eyes dart around the room until I find Sagan. I don’t know why I look to him for reassurance. I just honestly don’t think I’ve been alone with Utah in several years and this all seems so strange. Sagan gives me a small nod, silently telling me I should go with Utah. It isn’t lost on me that I just looked to Sagan for advice. I dry my hands on a towel and walk toward the front door.

When we’re outside and the front door is closed, Utah smiles at me, but neither of us says anything. We just both walk in silence until we reach the marquee. He sets the box of letters down on the ground and starts removing the letters that are already on the marquee. I walk over to the marquee and start pulling down a few of the letters.

“You have a quote you want to put on the marquee?” he asks.

I think about it for a moment and then say, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

He points down to the box. “They’re in alphabetical order if you want to go ahead and pull them out.”

I bend down and start pulling the letters I’ll need out of the box while he continues to remove the words from the marquee. “Did you really not know I was gay?”

I laugh. “I don’t know what I thought.”

He bends down and puts the last of the letters in the box. “Does it bother you?”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. And then I remember that he’s probably still thinking about the letter I wrote and all the hateful things I said to him. “Utah, I’m serious. I don’t care that you’re gay. I know I said some mean things in that letter, but I was upset. I really am sorry for that. We were kids. I know that . . . I’ve just spent years building up a lot of animosity toward you.”