“To take care of the child who was injured byher—” Caroline points at me— “family.”
“Really?” Justin’s voice is suspicious. “How bad were the injuries?”
“Justin,” I go to stop him, but he lifts his hand up, silencing me.
“You know how bad they were. Everyone in Little Hope knows.” Her voice raises an octave.
“How about Springfield? Do they know there?” He narrows his eyes at her, but she’s looking everywhere but him.
I look between them. “What? What are you talking about?”
“You gonna tell her, or should I?” he asks, but she doesn't respond. "Alrighty, then." He turns to me and explains: "I did some digging, and it turns out Maddie was never paralyzed.”
I feel ice down my back. "What?" I gasp.
“Yep. She had a broken leg and a concussion. A horrible thing to happen to a child, but she recovered quickly and is currently on the school soccer team. She’s a pretty great scorer, isn’t she, Caroline?”
I look between them. “That’s not true, right? Tell me it’s not true! I've been struggling for eight whole years for nothing? You played on my guilt for nothing?” I watch Caroline squirm, and the dreadful feeling of unfairness settles in. I’m so relieved and happy to hear that Maddie is living a full and happy life, but what about me? What about the guilt I felt every single month when it was time to send money—money I didn’t have to spare? I thought my family was responsible for destroying her life, and I was ready to help her as much as I could for the rest of my own, but it was all a lie. It was all a fuckinglie!
“Eight years, Caroline!” My voice cracks. “I was a child when you asked for money the first time. You told me to go and do what my Momma taught me and get some extra cash. How could you?” For a split second, all I feel is a sense of mourning wash over me for all the things I lost out on—over a lie. I don't let it linger for too long. Not right now.
I hear a loud intake of air from beside me, followed by a growled, “What the fuck?”
Justin slowly moves closer to me and tries to touch my hand, but I swat it away. Not now. I don’t want to be touched by anyone right now. That feeling of heavy, back-breaking guilt I carried for so many years slowly melts into another emotion—feeling stupid. I should have sensed something wasn't right sooner, but I was too busy digging a hole for myself inside my own head. Too busy trying to coexist with this guilt for something that wasn’t even my fault but became my responsibility. And it was all for nothing.
“I’m sorry, Kay. I’m really sorry,” Justin murmurs. He doesn’t try to touch me this time.
“How did you find out?” I whisper, glancing at him.
He looks down and away, and only then does he answer. “I needed to know how I could help and where you send money every month.”
“How did you know about the money?” I ask, shocked. I thought I was hiding it well.
“The fuckface told me.” Justin’s smile is a little embarrassed, and the tips of his ears turn pink.
“Archie?” My head jerks back. "When did you talk to him?"
He finally looks up. “When I came to see you in Boston.”
“You came to see me?” I’m having a hard time keeping up right now.
“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his head.
Another pained cry comes from the woods, and Caroline looks around, worried.Good. “Please,” She starts again. “I really need you to call off your beast.”
“Fuck off,” Justin and I say in unison.
“We’ll leave,” Caroline promises. “Just call him off.”
I sigh, “Frankie boy! Let the bad guy go.” I call to him. There is a commotion in the bushes, a struggling sound, and a smug-looking Frank gallops out from the woods. He stops next to me and nudges my shoulder. "Good boy. Momma is proud of you. A very good boy." I pat on the top of his nose, where he likes affection the most, before moving behind his ears, just like with a dog. "You saved Momma, but I can’t kiss you because you have blood all over you. You need to wash up in the lake, okay?” Frank nods.
“Did he just fuckin’ nod?” Justin sounds surprised. Why, though?
“Yes, he's a very smart boy. Right? Go wash yourself, and then we can cuddle." Frank nudges my shoulder one more time and trots away.
“Is he really going to take abath?” Justin watches Frank leaving with round eyes and an open mouth.
“He’s a free spirit.” I shrug. “We’ll see.”
