I tell her everything in a tremulous voice, the shock of it not any less the second time around.
“That’s a lot to absorb.” She rubs soothing circles on the back of my hand. “You must feel overwhelmed.”
Lilah is no longer a faceless woman I resent because she still holds a part of Stiles. She’s real and beautiful and tragic. “He cheated on his girlfriend, and she nearly died. I just can’t wrap my mind around it. I feel utterly crushed.”
“You’re disappointed in the man you love.”
“So disappointed and blindsided. I knew he had baggage. I knew he blamed himself for whatever happened, but not this, not something like this.”
“Do you think what happened to Lilah was his fault?”
“No.” A shudder of breath passes through my lips. “Not directly. Stiles isn’t responsible for what Gemma Kershaw did, but he’s responsible for what he did. He cheated.”
“Does it bring back painful memories of Theodore?”
“Strangely enough, no. I didn’t love Theodore. I loved having a boyfriend. I loved not feeling like a tomboy. As much as he used me, I also used him—to fulfill what I thought at the time I’d been missing out on. He hurt my pride and ego. But learning that Theodore was engaged didn’t deliver this kind of sucker punch. With Jasper, though…”
“What, baby?”
“He’s just so good and honorable, a man of integrity. I feel that in my gut. I can’t reconcile what I know of him with what he did. He said he loved her. How could he do that to someone he loved?”
“I don’t know, Jordie. Only Stiles can answer that.”
“It’s a moot point.” That admission closes around my tormented heart. “If Jasper wanted me to know…if he wanted to work through his past to be with me, he would have told me the truth.”
“Struggling with his own guilt and shame, I don’t imagine that would have been an easy thing to tell you.”
My mom is one of the most compassionate people I know, but that she seems to harbor no judgment at all has me questioning her reaction. “Why do you seem so sympathetic toward Stiles? What he did was wrong.”
“I know that, honey. I don’t condone cheating or lying in a relationship. I value honesty, and I taught you and your brother that.”
“You did, so I don’t get it.”
“As your grandmother used to tell me, alligator lay eggs, but it nuh fowl,” my mother says in a melodic lilt, characteristic of her Jamaican roots.
“What does it mean?”
“That just because an alligator lays eggs doesn’t make her a hen. In other words, things are not always what they seem to be. You don’t know the full story behind those articles.”
“I know enough, Ma. The facts are undisputed.”
“Even facts have nuances.” She wets her lips. “I never told you or Jared this before. It wasn’t a secret. It just didn’t seem like a thing to tell my children. But I think you might need to hear this now.”
“Okay.” As much as my curiosity is piqued, I also feel nervous by the emotion in her eyes.
“It was a long time ago…in college.” Mom takes my hand, and a faraway expression ghosts over her face. “Like you, I didn’t have any steady boyfriends during high school. Ethan was my first. He was so different from me. I was studious and serious. He was a decent student, but he was also a partier and adventurous. I thought he was exciting. And even though his friends thought I was boring, Ethan adored me. We fell in love—that kind of intense, all-consuming love. He talked about getting married after we finished college. I wanted that, but as a couple of years passed, and I didn’t see any change in his wilder side, I started to get cold feet. I was the kind of person who had my whole life mapped out, and I worried that he wouldn’t fit into the role of husband and father that I envisioned. How could this boy who loved to party and sought out thrills like car racing and rock climbing and bungee jumping curb those interests for a quiet life in the suburbs?”
She pauses to take a shuddering breath. “I still remember the hurt on his face when I told him I didn’t see a future for us. He reacted as if I had ripped away something vital. I felt like I was losing a limb too. But I was so intent on sticking to this picture-perfect family image I had that I was willing to end us.”
Her hand on mine squeezes. “That night, Ethan went bar hopping with his friends. They got drunk and…” Mom closes her eyes as if she can’t bear it. “He was in the driver’s seat and took the brunt of the impact. He was the only one who died.”
“Oh, Mom.” I tighten my hold on her hand.
“I blamed myself.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Logically, I know that now. But then I kept thinking that if I hadn’t been so intent on my plans, on my single vision that short-changed him, he would not have gotten drunk that night and recklessly taken the wheel. I couldn’t see my way past that guilt and self-blame.” She looks at me and exhales a long breath. “I was still in a bad way when I met your father. It had been nearly two years since Ethan’s passing. We lived in the same apartment complex, but I hadn’t seen him before because he was often traveling for soccer.
