The Lies That Bind(91)

I’ve decided to go home for Thanksgiving after all. I really need to talk to my family, in person. I’ll call you when I return. I hope we can clear this hurdle together.

I love you,

Cecily





I book an absurdly expensive flight home for the next day, deciding that my mental health is worth it. Then I send an email to my family and Scottie, explaining that I had a change of heart about Thanksgiving and will be coming home after all. I also ask if I can talk to them all tomorrow night about something important, promising that it isn’t anything bad or health-related, about either me or the baby.

The following evening, I am sitting at my parents’ dining room table with my entire family, Scottie included. My flight got in on the late side, so everyone has already eaten dinner, but my mom made a kringle for dessert—a Wisconsin tradition and family favorite.

“Okay,” I finally say as I poke at the edges of the pastry with my fork. “I have a lot to share, so just hear me out—”

“In other words,” Scottie cuts in with a laugh, “please hold your questions until the end of the press conference.”

“Wait a sec,” my sister says, looking at him. “Do you know what she’s going to tell us?”

“Um…sort of,” he waffles.

“Yes,” I say, correcting him, deciding I’m done with dancing around the truth. “Scottie does know most of what I’m about to say. And I’m sorry I haven’t been completely honest with the rest of you. But that’s why I’m here now.”

    I look around the table, making eye contact with everyone, one at a time, before clearing my throat, taking a deep breath, and sharing my story. I am as thorough as possible, beginning with my move to New York and all my twentysomething wishes. I talk about my love-hate relationships with both journalism and New York City. I talk about meeting Matthew and our early days together. How it turned into a deep, caring relationship over the course of several years. How we both fell in love. I talk about the frustration of being ready to commit and knowing that Matthew wasn’t there yet—the uneasiness of wondering if he ever would be ready. How that led to my painful decision to break up with him. I tell them about the most unexpected night—the night I met Grant—how stunned I was by our instant connection, and that it was different from anything I’d ever felt before. I tell them about our weekend in the Adirondacks, and his brother’s health, and my trip to London with Scottie, and seeing Grant upon his return.

I then cover 9/11, telling them the parts of the day they never knew about. The wondering and waiting and calling Grant and checking my phone and finding the flyer in the park with his face. I tell them about the slow, sickening realization that he was not only dead, but also married. I tell them about my unlikely friendship with Amy and her equally unlikely connection to Matthew’s family. I tell them how lost and confused and heartbroken I felt. How Matthew eased that pain when we reconnected, first as friends, then quickly as more. How in the aftermath of such instability in my heart and the world, he made me feel safe again. Like there was something I could hold on to and believe in. How I came to believe that that is what love is all about. Not passion—but trust and fidelity and faith.

I can see the relief on everyone’s face, and so wish the story could end there. But I continue, admitting that I couldn’t quite shake Grant from my heart or mind.

“It just didn’t add up,” I say. “I mean, I know this situation isn’t unique….People lie and cheat all the time…but our connection felt so real. He seemed like such a good person. I just kept thinking that maybe there was something I was missing.”

    My eyes dart around the table as everyone stares at me, nodding, waiting. Even Scottie looks riveted as I tell them about going to the cabin and finding Grant and learning that he was not only an adulterer, but also a criminal.

I end with my recent, gut-wrenching conversations with Matthew, how we’ve agreed to put the wedding on hold.

My brother is the first to speak—which both surprises and comforts me, especially when I see how fiery he is. “Fuck that,” he says. “He’s canceling the wedding?”

“Paul. Language,” my mom says under her breath, but I can tell she doesn’t really mind that he’s just cussed at the table.

“I’m with Paul,” my sister says. “Why is he putting the wedding on hold?”

I choose my words carefully. “He said it first, but I agreed with him….We agreed to put it on hold. But yes, he was very angry at first…that I hid these things from him. I can’t blame him for that….”

“Well, he’s going to need to get over it,” my mom says. “You’re having a baby together.”

I take a breath, gather my strength, and say, “Well, see, that’s the thing….He also wants to wait until…we know for sure who the father is,” I say. “You know, biologically speaking…since the timing…was close,” I finish, my face on fire and sweat rolling down my sides.

I hear my mother let out a little gasp, then say, “You don’t know who the father is?”

I lift my eyes and look at her. “No, Mom. I’m not one hundred percent sure. I’m sorry.”

I brace myself for an emotional reaction, or at least grave disappointment, but her voice is calm and reassuring. “Oh, honey. It’s okay….You don’t have to be sorry. We love you, and we love this baby. That’s all that matters right now.”