He was about to answer me when Renn came up behind him, out of breath. “He has definitely used the business of losing his baby teeth to practice his negotiation skills…or should I say, extortion skills.” Renn ruffled his brother’s head. “He beat me to the door. I was trying to tidy the house a little and I guess I didn’t hear the bell.”
“That’s okay. Also, don’t worry about cleaning up for me.”
Renn looked down at Gage. “Hey, buddy. There’s pizza for dinner in the den. You can go wash up and grab some. Your brother will be home soon. I need to talk to Sadie.”
Gage nodded and traipsed off as I came further into the space. Whereas the outside gave an impression of austerity, the inside revealed the opposite.
The kitchen was to the side of the entry, its almond-colored appliances old but chic in a retro sort of way, complementing the decorative baskets tacked up to the walls. There were at least a dozen child’s drawings of different sizes on every available wall and cupboard surface, stuck up haphazardly with blue painter’s tape at Gage’s eye-level. Renn saw me noticing and shrugged. “Gage found the tape and put them all up himself one day. He was very proud.”
I examined the papers and smiled. “He should be. These are some impressive renderings of the Ninja Turtles.” One drawing was tacked on the refrigerator with a magnet, next to school photos of the boys, and a few spelling tests with “100%” marked in red pen at the top.
Past the kitchen was a living and dining room area. The home was too old to be an open concept, but at some point, an owner had hacked away at it, leaving only a half wall between the two spaces. On the worn dining room table was a camo backpack crammed with books and papers, overflowing onto the chipped wood. An electric pencil sharpener sat atop mismatched placemats as the centerpiece, along with a mason jar half full of cloudy water and paint brushes. A cheap plastic shelf sagged in one corner, weighed down with papers, art supplies, and comics. The other corner housed an easel, complete with a drop cloth-covered canvass. Like the kitchen, the dining area had many drawings taped up pell-mell. The artistic chaos belied the white walls, and I sensed the distinct flow of creative energy. I’d had the same feeling the first time I’d walked into Studio Obscurum.
Renn put his hand behind his head, almost apologetically. “We don’t eat in this room. Usually in the den. But Gage loves to draw and paint, so we do that in here a lot. Robbie used to…but not so much anymore.”
We already had things we needed to talk about without opening another potentially hot topic in Robbie. I settled on, “You paint?”
“Occasionally. I usually draw, but sometimes paints and canvas are more appropriate for my ideas.”
This became clear when we reached the living room, the one area that appeared as though they’d put some care into the décor. Framed paintings stood out beautifully tetrised along the walls, divergent themes and styles made coherent through matching black frames. Books crammed a shelf on one wall—everything from old leather-bound heirlooms to newer paperbacks—and a checkerboard table in the corner housed a half-doneStar WarsLego set.
Sandwiched among the books were photographs in dollar store picture frames. There were many of the boys, most recent, but my curiosity drew me to the older-looking pictures, where I got my first glimpse of Renn’s father. There was Thomas standing next to a ’90s version of Pete, holding toddler Renn beside an A-board sign that read “Studio Obscurum, Now Open.” Another one of Thomas had him leaning his head near a woman lying in a hospital bed holding a newborn. Since a young Robbie and a teenage Renn were also in the picture, I surmised this was the day Gage was born. I blanched a bit when I thought it might have been Pete who’d taken the picture.
My musings must have been evident on my face because Renn volunteered, “I wish I could say it’s gotten easier, but it hasn’t. I meant what I said that day about trying to understand where Pete was coming from, but it’s been difficult.”
Renn was so reluctant to acknowledge when he was hurting. That seemingly hadn’t changed. I wanted to offer my support, but we weren’t there yet.
One side of the living room led to a long hallway with five doors. At the end of the hall was another open room, and I heard Gage laughing at the TV in there. All the doors were ajar except one. Renn pointed to it. “That’s Pete’s room. He’s been coming by more, like he said he would, but hardly ever sleeps here. Robbie still can’t stand to be around him, and I don’t push since he’s having such a tough time with it all.”
Poor Robbie. He was such a sensitive kid, just a little lost. I again had the instinct to help. I wanted Renn to lean on me, now that I believed I could handle it.
Renn gestured toward the couch and I lowered myself to the edge. He sat down next to me, leaving a half foot between us. It felt a lot more stilted than it had on Halloween, and at first, I couldn’t think of how to begin. But I owed it to him to try.
“Renn, I just want to start by saying that, when I left on my birthday, I fully intended to get back in touch with you sooner…” I tapped on the armrest with my pointer finger. There was no good way to explain the next part. My insufficient words caught in my throat.
“What happened, Sadie? Just tell me.”
I nodded. “In my car, I unlocked my phone and saw that I’d gotten some texts from Henri—” I closed my eyes briefly, thinking about those four awful messages from UNKNOWN.
“Oh.”
“Um hmm. And…they leveled me in a way I couldn’t have predicted.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I thought I was getting past most of the pain Henri had inflicted on me, but his texts pulled the one hurt lever I hadn’t insulated myself from.”
As I told Renn about Henri’s words, and specifically about the son he mentioned, the nauseating twist of shame in my belly resonated as I attempted to explain my actions. After coming to Los Angeles, I’d spent a year working through my pain and anger in therapy. I’d been able to acknowledge that Henri had treated me poorly, gaslit me, cheated on me, and even that he’d gotten someone else pregnant while we were together. But, for reasons I was still discovering—most likely rooted in my own unhappy childhood—I hadn’t allowed myself to consider the fact Henri would have a child out there, that the man who supposedly loved me went out and made a family with someone else. I couldn’t deal with it, so I’d buried it. Refused to discuss it, even in therapy, at least not until recently. In the months after leaving Boston, while working through breakup logistics, I’d never permitted Zach to inquire about the baby. If I’d ever had a stray thought wondering whether it had been born, or if Henri was part of its life, I’d evicted that question ruthlessly from my brain. So, when those texts had come through, I’d been unprepared. He’d had a son. A son he apparently loved. And I’d felt more insignificant and taken advantage of than ever before. I’d been gutted.
“I felt dirty, Renn. It’s not rational, but somehow the reality of that baby made me feel unlovable to a degree I can’t even explain. The shame was unbearable. That anyone could want me after that, after I’d been made such a stupid fool, was too much to contemplate. I didn’t feel whole. I just felt used. And I needed time to recover from that.”
I watched him intently as I finished my recitation, leaning in and scooting my hips closer. His face grew pensive, and he ran his hand through his hair, falling back against the couch. His shoulders tensed and relaxed in turn as his thoughts wrestled across his features.
“I’m sorry, Sadie. I wish I could have been there to tell you just how amazing and loveable you are.” He breathed out thickly, sitting up and grabbing both my hands. “But I have to ask, once you started to come back from this, why didn’t you call me? It doesn’t seem like you’re in the same dark place now.”
I nodded and squeezed his hands, so grateful he had reached for mine first. “Make no mistake, Renn. That dark place still comes to grab me sometimes, and it probably always will. Henri’s texts absolutely savaged me. I had to stay focused to avoid derailing completely. I began school online. I got a day job and cut back my hours at Hal’s to focus on my education. For months, I was in a semi-lifeless state, just going through the motions. I stayed busy with things I could do on autopilot to keep from spiraling again—school, work, running—better than hiding, but not really living, either. Time doesn’t have a lot of meaning when you’re in survival mode. In the back of my hazy mind, I vaguely knew I should call you, but I kept putting it off because I could never be sure if I was ready. I was just Henri’s fool. Even these past few months, where I’ve started feeling more like myself again, I was worried you’d see me and instantly reject me. But I realized on Halloween that being rejected by you isn’t the worst thing that could happen. Missing out on what we could have together is.”
Renn frowned as something occurred to him. “Shit. And you didn’t really call me this time, did you? Not on purpose.”
