In my shock, my shaking palm finds his stubbled cheek. His expression feels pinched, the most concentrated form of agony. His hand finds mine, holding it in place against his skin. I’m surprised to feel moisture lining my fingertips.
“She was drunk and wrapped her car around a pole before she even left the parking lot.”
Another tear slides off my nose and onto my pillow, but I don’t make a sound. I sweep my thumb back and forth across his cheek. I’ve never heard his voice like this, so raw he could be bleeding.
“I spent the night of the parade in the hospital with only the clothes on my back. A public defender showed up, told me Mom had been arrested for a DUI. Said the situation wasn’t looking good, based on a previous infraction I wasn’t aware of.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “Kate, he told me that in addition to me possibly being subpoenaed to testify against her, anyone I told could be subpoenaed as well. Friends, girlfriends… He said me keeping quiet could mean the difference between Mom serving time or not.”
He pulls away, turning to lie on his back while shock keeps me paralyzed.
“She was in the hospital for about a week, but then she got released, decided to change, and has committed to staying sober ever since. The court case took forever, and she had to work a few jobs to pay off the fines, but once it was resolved, I wanted to reach out. But since you hadn’t over all that time…”
“I—I didn’t know,” I whisper.
“I know.” It’s like he’s reliving the past as he traces a finger along the spyglass tattoo across his collarbone.
“Is that when you got the spyglass?”
He releases a long breath. “Yeah. Eyes on the future, staying sober and all.”
Seconds stretch before I speak. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“I know, and that was my fault. I could have opened up sooner. Trusted you. But growing up sometimes neglected isn’t exactly something I like to broadcast. And you… Well, on that day, you clearly weren’t going to listen.”
I bite my lip, tasting shame so potent that my stomach twists. The whole morbid scene plays out in my mind of how I treated him that day. How I accused him of being drunk. Brandon’s excuse had been every bit as valid as his pleas were for me to trust him.
And I didn’t.
Sure, my parents aren’t the epitome of unconditional love, but they always made sure Liza and I were taken care of. I’m not sure I can say the same for Brandon.
I squeeze my eyes, trying to staunch the river threatening my tear ducts. My heart aches so hard that it’s almost painful.
Brandon has never been shallow a day in his life. In fact, it’s a miracle that Brandon has remained so light and full of laughter. Everything he’s ever told me about his mom has been kind, albeit vague. He’s always loved her fiercely, that much is apparent. It also speaks to how loyal and forgiving Brandon Roberts can be, despite one’s shortcomings.
I bite my lip, trying to ignore the flutter of hope in my belly. Just because Brandon forgives easily doesn’t mean I deserve it.
“Brandon, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you. That last day outside the Fine Arts building, I… I was angry. I had gotten into it with my parents at the parade the night before, and it wrecked me. They were saying such terrible things, being so awful, and I needed you—” My voice catches, then dims to a whisper. “I needed you so badly. Too badly. I realized I shouldn’t have let my guard down. But you were right about everything. I got scared, and I ran.” My words melt into the darkness. “But now I see that I should have trusted you. I have no excuse for how I acted.”
“Neither do I.” Brandon’s admission is scratchy. “I should have fought for you.”
“I wouldn’t have let you.”
“I know that too.”
Staring at the ceiling, we are at a night-soaked impasse. One where neither tears nor regrets can rewrite the past or change the future. They are simply facts, nothing more.
“But, Kate…” Brandon starts, voice strained. “You need to know that you always were enough for?—”
“Brandon, don’t.” A staggered breath escapes the edge of my stifled cry. “Don’t say it.”
“Kate, I’ve gotta get this off my chest.” Brandon takes a slow breath before he speaks, low and serious. “You were enough back then, and you’re enough now. I’m not pretending to understand everything going on in your life, but…” He rolls off his back, turning to face me in the darkness, and I feel his hot gaze sear through my heart. “Whatever skewed version of you that your parents convinced you to be—don’t. Just be you, Kate. I need you to beyou.”
A whimper flies out of me, and I clamp my mouth shut.
He blows out a long breath, his back sinking deeper into the mattress. I can’t speak without unleashing six years of pent-up sobs, so I don’t respond.
But a few moments later, Brandon’s hand finds its way into mine, and I don’t pull away. Unlike our secrets dissipating into the curtain of night, our understanding remains unspoken. These words are nothing but backpay. Their timestamps do not belong in the present. Holding his calloused hand will not change tomorrow, or the day after that.
But for the first time in six years, I fall asleep with answers.
