Protecting Her(122)

That’s the man who married Katherine and it’s the man I am today. A hollow shell. Uncaring. Unfeeling. Dead.

I think that’s how Katherine convinced me to send Garret away to boarding school. I had no fight left in me, not even for my son. But even so, I was devastated when he left. It just confirmed that I’d failed him. I’d let Katherine, a woman he barely knew, send him away. I considered bringing him home, many times, but then I thought it might be better if he was far away from here. Away from me. Away from Katherine. But last week he set his room at the boarding school on fire and they sent him home.

Now he’s back, and I need to try to be his father again. My past attempts have failed, but I’m not giving up. I love Garret with all my heart. I just can’t seem to express it. It seemed so much easier when Rachel was in our lives. She exuded love. She gave it freely. And just being around her made it easier to express love myself. Now I feel unable to do so. Like I forgot how. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true.

I’m a failure as a father, and now I’m a father again. I have a new baby. A daughter. Lilly. I didn’t want another child. I told Katherine that, and she said she didn’t want one either. She said she was on the pill, and like an idiot, I believed her. But, of course, she lied, and last August we had the baby.

I should be happy, but I’m not. This isn’t what I want. I’m back to hating my life. Hating who I am. Hating that I’ve lost all hope. That I’ve given up.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be all along. Maybe I was meant to be miserable. Meant to hate my life. It’s how my father raised me. He never wanted me to be happy.

So he got what he wanted. I’m not happy. I don’t think I ever will be again.





RACHEL

“That’s it for today,” I say, closing the small yellow book. Marco and I are sitting at a table in the back of Celia’s restaurant.

“Thank you, Miss Smith.” Marco gets up and puts his little arms around me. It reminds me of Garret hugging me and I start to tear up.

“You’re welcome,” I say, smiling to hide my sadness. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Sì,” he says, then quickly corrects himself. “Yes.”

I nod. “That’s correct. Goodbye, Marco.”

I wave as he runs off to find his mother, who works in a shop down the street. Marco’s parents hired me to tutor him in English. The children here are taught English in school, but that’s not enough to make them fluent in it. Marco’s parents want him to become fluent in English because they think it will help his future. Help him get into a good college and get a good job in a bigger city. This tiny village is beautiful and quaint, but it doesn’t offer much for job opportunities.

A lot of the parents in this village feel the same way as Marco’s parents. That’s how I ended up being a tutor. Word got around that I’m from America and soon parents were asking me if I would teach English to their children. I’ve been doing this for two years now. The children are so eager to learn, and they’re all very sweet. They bring me flowers they pick from the hillside or they draw me a picture or give me hugs.

The children remind me so much of Garret that I honestly don’t know how I’ve been able to even do this. I keep telling myself I’m helping give these children a better life. A brighter future. But doing so is nearly killing me. Being around children makes me miss Garret even more. I think about him constantly. And when Marco gave me that hug, I almost broke down. I want those little arms around me to be Garret’s. I want to hold him again and tell him how much I love him. I want to see his smile and those bright blue eyes. I want to hear his voice and hear his laughter.

I race to the bathroom and shut the door and fall to my knees, sobbing. I have to see my son. I can’t keep waiting. He’s growing up and I’m not there for him. Where does he think I am? Does he think I’m dead? Or did Pearce tell him the truth? If he knows I’m alive, does he know why I haven’t come back? Does he know that I’m only staying away because I’m so terrified of what might happen to him if I showed up there?

As desperate as I am to go back, I can’t risk it. I need Pearce to come get me.

Where is he? Why hasn’t he come here? Why hasn’t he at least sent me a message, telling me what’s going on? What’s taking so long?

These questions are on a continuous loop in my head. They drive me crazy because I don’t have the answers. There’s no explanation. I’ve heard nothing from anyone. Not Jack. Not Pearce. No one.