His head tilts, staring me down, "Only because I'm making you."
"You can'tmake medo anything," I tell him, turning to face him before he can argue that he absolutelycan,as if I need another reminder. "I was always planning on telling you. I just wanted five fucking minutes to go through the emotional turmoil of itby my fucking selfbefore I had to share with you the parts of my life that haunt me. Okay?"
Sympathy drags his features down in a way that makes my eyes water. He must notice the storm brewing, holding his palms up in surrender and standing. "Okay," he finally says. "When you're finished, bring me the laptop so I can try to trace where the email came from. There's a chance it's not even your mom, just someone pretending to be her."It won't be.They all know nothing would possibly sting as much as her meticulous way of tearing me to shreds without any effort at all.
"Would you like to know all the details about the baby shower I'll have to miss, too?" I bite.
He runs a palm down his face, sighing my name, clearly tired of the pity party I'll be throwing instead of attending. "You don'thave to share any of the details of your life outside of what is absolutely necessary. Your life is still your own, I just want to... extend it. Preserve it."
"Why?" My voice cracks, "What's so important about me and my life?"
Devastation wracks his features as he searches my face for something. "If you don't see the value in your life, there's nothing I can do to prove it to you. Your life is precious simply because it is."
I squeeze my lips between my teeth, nodding absentmindedly, "And so you kidnap every person who's in danger of the Sancticunties, then? Because all of our lives are so fucking precious?"
He smiles at the nickname, sorrow still clouding his expression, "No, little hunter. You're the first person I've ever met who is so fucking stubborn I'vehadto resort to this. Most people just listen to me the first time I tell them not to poke the bear."
"It's not my fault Bel got dragged into this," I argue, "She's my best friend. I did what-"
He stands abruptly, running his hands through his hair, "Yes, yes, I know all that, Jesus Christ. You did what you had to do, and now so have I."
We've gone round and round with this argument, and itnever gets us anywhere, so I don't bother responding, gritting my teeth, and watching his shadow move across the floor so I don't have to look at his stupid fucking face any longer.
He sighs again, sinking back onto my mattress so forcefully I fear he might break it. "Please. Take all the time you need to read those emails, then bring me your computer."
As he leaves, the door clicking softly behind him, the quarter hitting my desk draws my attention away from his departure asit sloppily spins across the table, swirling until it finally settles, just as Eamon said. Tails up.
With all the courage I can muster, I move the computer mouse. The screen before me lights up, and the list of unopened emails stares back at me. Maybe I shouldn't read the email at all, save myself from the torment, and just give the laptop to Eamon now. If it says anything important, which I'm almost positive it won't, he'll tell me.
But I can't hide behind him. Won't. This ismyfamily,myburden to carry.
After another long swig of tequila, the previous ones clouding my senses enough that I barely feel the burn on the way down, I click on the damned thing, bringing mothers words into full view like I've done countless times before.
Isla,
I'm reaching out once again to tell you that it's time to come home. It's come to our attention that not only are you still attempting to leave your responsibilities behind, but you've absconded California altogether. After an alarming discussion with your landlord, we have come to find you've left your apartment vacant with no warning at all. Due to this, we and the management company have been left with no choice but to file a police report, considering you a missing person, unless you contact us immediately with your current location so we can come assist you. We've taken care of moving what's left of your items out of your apartment and into your bedroom at home.
Upon your return, we will make an appointment with one of the pastors from the church, who will determine what means of penance will be required of you to be welcomed back into the fold. Once you'vepaid for your time away and whatever sins you may have committed, a young gentleman named Silas has agreed with your father to have your hand in marriage. We are quite confident that he's capable of taming your wild spirit and helping you transform into the wife and mother you're meant to be. You no longer need to continue running and chasing the pleasures of this world; the plan of true joy is already laid at your feet. All you need to do is return home.
We will be praying for you, knowing that God will provide your way back to us, one way or another.
Love,
Carmen
On the surface, it's a seemingly harmless email. A concerned mom wishing for her child to come back. But knowing what I do about what that "penance' will look like makes me sick to my stomach. Unbidden, flashes of men forcefully touching my most intimate places with holy oil, anointing them to cleanse away the sin appear in my mind, bile racing up my throat. With only a moment to spare, I sprint to the bathroom, falling to my knees before the toilet and puking again and again.
As the retching finally stops, my stomach completely empty, a soft knock echoes on the door frame.
Through bleary eyes, I look up at Eamon, his furrowed brows only making me feel worse.
I wave him away with a weak hand, "Too much liquor."
With a large step, he enters the bathroom, thankfully not calling out the lie for what it is. Instead he wets a small towel, handing it to me and leaning against the counter. Using the towel to wipe the corner of my mouth, I throw it to the floor, letting myself lean back until I'm resting against the wall behind me, Eamon's figure clouded by the tears still stinging my eyes.
Mercifully, he says nothing, doesn't look at me while I attempt to pull myself together, and just waits patiently while staring at the doorway ahead of him.
When I can finally speak, only then does he look at me, watching me warily.
