It’s the first time I’ve been able to tell the entire story to anyone. I gave Chase bits and pieces along the way, the same with Steve, and they pieced the rest together. It’s something of a relief to get it out, like a piece of the burden has lifted. I just hope I didn’t give that piece to Lexi. She has enough on her own. I guess that’s the point, though, sharing it so someone else can do the heavy lifting for a bit.
“What was your dad like?”
“You know how people are always saying how the deceased was always a nice guy and everyone liked him? Then you dig into the story more and realize they were assholes who never did a damn bit of good their whole life? Dad was the guy who actually was nice and everyone really did like him. He did his best taking care of a kid who was basically mute for almost ten years, was always there for me, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to let him go.”
“He sounds like he would have gotten along great with my dad. Although that’s just me remembering him as a kid.” She presses her forehead to mine. “Your dad got to see you grow up, and I bet he was, and still is, proud of you for growing up to become such a warm, caring, wonderful man.”
I shake my head slowly. “He liked to say he was. Every day before I leave to go somewhere, even to the kitchen, he’d stop me and tell me he was proud of me and he loved me. Not many people do that. I don’t understand how he could be proud of me right now, though.”
“What? Why not?”
I stare holes in the flooring, not sure how to say any of this. Lexi is like truth serum in human form. Whenever I’m around her, I get this deep desire to tell her everything I can. I guess my brain wants to see if she’s ready for what my heart wants to tell her. Give her the opportunity to run away. Let her go before she realizes how much she regrets ever meeting me. The problem is, I’m not ready to lose her, but I can’t stop telling her about me.
“What’s there to be proud of?”
“Jamie.” Her voice pulls at my heart. I glance up and meet her eyes. “I promise I won’t go anywhere. I don’t think there’s anything you could tell me that you’ve done that would make me change my mind because…because…you’re a wonderful guy and I really, really like you.”
“You’re the only good thing I’ve got going for me.” She holds my hand and I decide it’s better to tell her now than to draw this out. It won’t be getting better. “I’ve essentially lost every dime I have because of my mother and sister. I’d have lost the house by now if Carl, Chase, and a few other people Dad knew didn’t come to my rescue. I’m close to giving up on…everything—or I was till I met you. I’ve already given up on painting, drawing, everything to do with art, except the photography. The passion I didn’t share with dad is the only one I can keep doing now that he’s gone.
“If it wasn’t for Sam throwing me a job now and then because he feels bad for me, I’d be living in my Jeep. I, uhm, I had started to make plans to leave. No idea where I was going. Not sure how long. I won’t sell his art, even though it would make enough money to pay off the house and more. I won’t donate it, like he asked me to if anything ever happened. I’ve stopped working with every charity he was part of. I’ve…given up.”
“Sweetie, Sam doesn’t throw jobs at you because he feels bad. You’re a damn talented photographer. Everything you’re describing? That is all part of grieving.”
“No, I’ve always just been a cranky, anti-social, mentally unstable fuck up. Haven’t done anything right since I was born, except to ruin one life after another. After he died, I found out he basically sold his soul to the devil for me. All that talent, all that light, hidden away because of a fuckup like me.” I take a shaky breath and add, “I should have been in the car with him.”
I close my eyes so I don’t have to see her. “I understand if you don’t want to keep seeing me. I can… I can talk to Sam, get you someone else to work with. Someone who isn’t a useless asshole. I shouldn’t even be here. You have a beautiful mind and so much potential, you shouldn’t be wasting your time on a broke loser like me.”
“A broke loser wouldn’t have come here to comfort me after I told him not to.”
Her hands are cool against my face, and I want to sink into them. “I’m sorry,” my voice is barely a whisper, “I’m sorry, Lex. I came here to help you and I made it all about me and my shit. I didn’t mean to?—”
“When I was eighteen, we were living with my aunt and she threw us a little party with some of our friends. She invited my mother, who, of course, brought Ronnie with her. At some point, I went upstairs to get something from my room—I don’t even remember what it was now. I could hear noises coming from inside—whispering and other noises I didn’t understand. When I stepped in, I found Ronnie. He had my best friend—my fuckinggirlfriend—bent over my desk, her pants around her ankles and his hands up her shirt, fucking her. I tried to run, but he caught me by the hair and pulled me back.”
“I heard my girlfriend telling me over and over that it was no big deal and not to tell anyone while Ronnie dragged me over to the bed. He threw me down and climbed… he climbed on top of me. He told my girlfriend it was okay, and that he had a special present for me and to…to hold my hands down. He…he?—”
I pull her head down on my shoulder and rock her gently.
“Bex came upstairs later and found me in the bed crying. He told me he’d do it to her next if I told anyone.”
“You didn’t tell anyone because you wanted to keep your sister safe.”
“I tried to tell. I tried to talk to a counselor. That’s when I realized what kind of reach Ronnie had as a preacher in such a big church. I couldn’t trust anyone. I dropped out of the college I had applied for and begged Bex to move with me, so we did. He’s made more passes at me since then, groped me, threatened me.” She swallows hard and lowers her head. “I never kicked him in the balls and he never really stopped.”
“It’s not your fault, Angel. None of it,” I try to assure her, although I’m not sure she believes me. “After the move, did you tell your sister?”
“No. I told her what I told you, mostly as a warning to stay away from him. She’s my twin, though. She probably knows I’m lying.”
“Does he still…touch you?”
“It stopped after he found out I was in therapy—well, stopped for a while. A few months ago, I was at their house and a migraine hit. I have medication I take for them and my mother got it for me. He wasn’t home, so I went into the spare room to lie down for a few minutes. I ended up falling asleep, and when I woke up he was…he was standing over me and the blanket had been pulled back. I’d been asleep for three hours. My medication never did that before.”
“Alexis—”
“Tonight…one of the older women at the church said there was going to a be wedding. She was so excited about it, saying how lucky I am and how wonderful this new pastor is. Jamie, I think my parents are going to try to force me to marry the new pastor somehow. How would they…how could they do that? She…she made it sound like I was pregnant, talking about my condition.”
Rage like I’ve never known fills me, but before I can react, she moves against me again, curling up on my chest and pulling my arms around her. “I don’t want to work with anyone else, Jamie. I don’t want to see anyone else. We’re still learning about each other and I’m sure there are more skeletons hidden away for us to find, but at least we got some of the big ones out of the way. I hope.”
“There’s got to be something we can do. A restraining order or something.”
