Page 92 of Courtroom Drama
We are quiet again, our attention on the alleyway below as if immersed in a theater show.
I have things to say. Of course I do. But part of me feels too deflated to try.
“Two things can be true, you know.” His words break into my thoughts as he stares steadfastly in the direction of the alleyway. “She—Margot—she can be who you think she is, who you needed her to be. She can be the strong, independent woman, the symbol of the healthy relationship you needed over the years. And she can also be guilty.”
I look at Damon. I don’t know if he’s talking about his mom or Margot, but I have to believe it’s both. He is not reckless with his emotions or words. I know this to be true. As true as how he makes me feel.
Two things can be true.
We can have summer rain, the smell of jasmine, Kara’s laugh, him and me. But, perhaps, only in the suspended state of our memories.
I can crave him more than anything I’ve ever wanted but also know too much complication exists between us to work.
“There’s a lot I regret about us, Syd.” He exhales as if he can no longer hold any of it in. He shifts to face me, and his elbow unintentionally bumps mine. I feel its friction run through me. His blue-green eyes look more green than blue, the way they do when he grows more intense or worried. “I wish we had more time back then. Leaving town, starting over, and never seeing you again was the hardest thing that had happened to me up until that point.”
The pressure in my chest grows as he speaks.
“And even now, I wish...” He looks from me to the alleyway and back. “I wish I knew how this all ends.”
We stare forward again. The Verizon workers head back inside, and there’s no longer any activity to focus our attention on. His statement is cryptic at best. How what ends? How the case ends? How we end? Does there have to be an end? Do I want there to be more? Is more even possible? When I went to his room last night, he tried to tell me.I can’t give you...I hadn’t let him finish. But I know what he intended to say.I can’t give you more than right now.
We watch the final splinters of sunlight disappear behind the strip mall’s tile roof.
“You abandoned me,” I say, releasing my full feelings on him. He shifts his body to face me. “When everything happened you just... abandoned me. We were best friends.” I thought when we had this conversation it would require several minutes of explanation and unloading. Turns out it’s pretty straightforward.
He hangs his head, then forces himself to look at me again.
“I get we were young and there weren’t many other options than for you to go, but... you could have stayed in touch. You could have called. You could have...” I stop myself because this list of things he could have done to show me he cared back then and over the last ten years is too long to be impactful.
“It’s one of my biggest regrets, Syd,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.
I can’t help but catch on his choice of words.Oneof his biggest regrets. I egotistically want it to be his sole, biggest regret.
“I’ve thought about you every day for the last ten years. There are so many times when...” He pauses, looks out to the alley again as if it’s the corridor to his memories. “When I wanted to reach out. When I got so close. But I figured the more time that went by, the more you hated me. And by the time I felt strong enough after Kara, so much time had passed.” His eyes look so pained I have to force myself to stay focused on him.
“I understand,” I tell him, because I do. I don’t like any of it, but now that I know what happened after, I understand it. Two things can be true after all.
“No, you don’t,” he says, and I’m surprised by his response. “If I’m being completely honest, I couldn’t separate you from your dad. As much as I wanted to, as much as I knew his actions had nothing to do with you, I... I just couldn’t separate it. What happened, it robbed my family of so much. That last year of Kara’s life was so consumed by it. I was afraid I’d look at you and only feel anger. And I couldn’t bear that. I was a coward.”
“I suppose I was, too,” I say, because I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve rarely claimed my own responsibility in all of it. “I could have reached out, I could have told you how I felt at any point, but I put it all on you.”
He shakes his head, and I can see he’s about to tell me I have no reason to blame myself, or something similar, so I speak again before he can.
“What was it like?” I ask, my voice coming out like a delicate vibration.
We face each other.
“What was it like, having parents who cared about you so much?” I feel silly for even asking. I’m in my mid-twenties, it shouldn’t matter. But, being back with him, I know it does.
His lips part, and I see my brokenness reflected in his face. He swallows hard and doesn’t break eye contact. “I’m grateful for it. But also, I took it for granted. The way we do when things are good, I suppose. And then after what happened with your dad, it all felt fake. Punitive. And after Kara, none of it mattered anymore. I had to forgive my mom. It took a long time before I saw it for what it was, a mistake she will regret for the rest of her life.”
He turns to the strip mall again, and I continue to evaluate his face. Something has shifted. Something subtle. Like one candle in a sea of a hundred flickered out. It’s all too clear. The last year of Kara’s life was marred by the remnants of our parents’ affair. And I am a biological reminder of that fact, no matter how many years later, for him and his family.
“How come you never mentioned your baby sister before today?” The anguish in his face makes me see how betrayed he feels as a result of my omission.
“I don’t know,” I say. I bite the inside of my lip when he turns to me. We’ve shared so much.He’sshared so much about his life with me. Any time I’m not fully honest with him, it feels unfair. “I guess because I don’t view her as my sister fully. I mean, she’s my mother’s daughter, but the life my mom has now is so far removed from me and the life we once had together. I guess I just don’t feel particularly close to her.”
Even as the words emerge, I hate myself for saying them. They are honest, yes. But I am complaining about my sister, a baby, when Damon beside me would give anything to have his back. I try to tell Damon all my regrets through a look of wide-eyed sadness. That I’m sorry for what happened to him and his family, and that I regret my own separation from the family I still have.
