Everything my mother says is another punch in the gut.
My father is alive.
Punch.
My father has been in prison for over forty years.
Punch.
My father is a murderer.
Punch. Punch.
I don’t even know what to say. I stare ahead at the wall, my heart jumping around in my chest. This has been the most stressful morning of my entire life. At this point, my day is going to end with me in the hospital with a stroke.
“You can see why I didn’t want to tell you,” Mom says, her words coming out quickly. “I thought it would be traumatic for you. And if it got out, the other kids might tease you.”
“What…?” I start my sentence, but my voice sounds strangled. Ugh, poor choice of words. “What did he do?”
“Well, he killed someone.”
“Yes, I gathered that. Who did he kill?” Andwhy?
My mother frowns. I can tell she doesn’t want to tell the story, but that’s too bad. She’s kept this secret from me long enough. I deserve to know. “It was a woman,” she says. “A woman he was having an affair with.”
“Why did he kill her?”
“He claimed it was an accident. He didn’t mean to kill her—that’s what he said.” The lines on her face deepen. “But his story didn’t make sense. And obviously, the jury didn’t believe it. They thought he planned the whole thing.”
Maybe he just wanted to see her suffer. Maybe he just wanted to see her scream.
“Do you think he planned it?” I manage.
Mom is quiet for a moment. “Yes, I believe he did. She was threatening to expose the affair, so he killed her.”
“How…” I close my eyes for a moment, imagining my father throwing this mystery woman into a dark hole so she couldn’t escape. “How did he do it?”
“He poisoned her.”
I feel that tightness in my chest, the same as I did last night when I discovered Liam was gone. I’m on the verge of another panic attack—my second in two days. I take adeep breath, trying to calm myself down.
“Why are you telling me this now?” I say. “After all these years, why tell me now?” And whytoday?
“Because…” She bites down hard on her lower lip. “I just found out. Your father got parole. He’s out of prison.”
“He’s…”
“And I thought he might come looking for you,” she says. “So… I wanted you to be prepared for that. If you want to see him. Or not.”
“Right.”
Today of all days, this is too much for me to take in. My father is alive and he’s a murderer. He poisoned a woman. And oh yeah, he’s out of jail and might come looking for me.
“I think…” I take a deep breath. “I think I need to be alone right now.”
“Of course.” My mother squeezes the fabric of her skirt in her fists. “Do you hate me?”
“No. I don’t hate you.”
