"Virginia, she has a right to know. She should have known all along." He shakes his head and sighs. "It's not right keeping it from her. Not the way they were. Not what she was to him and what he was to her."
I place my hands on my hips and stare between the two of them. They're obviously talking about Colton. "Okay. Somebody better tell me what's going on," I say. "Right now," I add, forcefully.
My father stands and leads me over to a large oak secretary desk. "I'm going to show you."
"Show me?" I ask in uncertainty.
He opens a drawer and extracts a manila folder. He places it on top of the desk and opens it. The folder is full of newspaper articles, and the first heading in big bold print isCONNOR CRAWFORD KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT.
"Oh no!" Colton's brother is dead. My hands tremble as I choke back my emotions. Connor was always like a little brother to me. I had no idea he even died.
Shaking my head, I try to refocus my attention back to Colton. Is this why he's so angry? Because his brother is dead? But why would he direct that anger towards me?
"What happened?" I ask in a hushed whisper.
My father steps back and says in a soft voice, "Keep reading, Penny."
I'm barely aware that my parents have left the room, leaving me in silence as I study article after article. Slowly, the pieces begin to lock into place like a jigsaw puzzle finally forming the complete picture.
Colton was driving the car the night Connor died. A drunk driver slammed into them, causing their car to skid off the road, roll several times and finally land in a lake. Connor drowned, and Colton almost drowned trying to save him. Luckily, someone who was driving by got there in time to save Colton's life.
I steel myself. I'm not sure I can continue reading, but somehow I muster up the courage to do just that. There is a picture of Colton lying in the hospital. His head is bandaged, and there are tubes and IVs and bandages everywhere. I keep reading. He had massive head trauma from hitting the windshield and was in a coma for almost six months. The doctors didn't know whether he would ever recover.
Shaking, I slowly close the folder and hold it against my chest. Fat tears roll down my cheeks as I silently sob. Connor died, and no one told me. No one ever bothered to tell me that Colton was in a car accident and that his life was hanging by a thread. I feel sick. I feel betrayed.
Storming out of the room, I find my parents in the formal living room. My mother is drinking a dark amber liquid, and judging from the bottle beside her, it's whiskey. I've never seen my mother drink anything more than a small glass of wine during Sunday supper.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my voice breaking.
"You were away at college. You were living your life. This would have brought you back, destroyed your dreams, everything you had worked for, Penelope."
I cringe as she uses my full name. Everyone who knows me calls me Penny except for her. "College can be put on hold, Mama! Life and death can't be! He almost died, and I wouldn't even have known." I swallow hard as everything hits me at once. "If Colton would have died, would you have even told me about his funeral?"
She hesitates, and I can't bear to hear another word come out of her mouth. I turn on my heel and run out of the house with her calling after me. I jog down the driveway and towards the only place that I know I can go. It's the place that Colton and I used to go to when we needed each other. It's at the edge of the property line adjoining our parents' land. Past a large, open field sits a big, old willow tree with branches hanging over a pond, and the two of us used to go there and sit and talk for hours. We made love under that willow tree a countless number of times. And right now there is no place I'd rather be. I need to feel close to him again. I didn't realize how much I missed him up until this point. Knowing that his life was hanging in the balance and I was all the way up in New York makes me feel terrible. While I was studying for tests, he was struggling to survive. I'm sure he had years of therapy, and I could have been there for him. Ishouldhave been there.
My legs hurt from running at such a furious pace, but I ignore the pain. The pain in my heart is much worse. No wonder Colton is so mad at me. I wasn't here for him when he needed me. He had to deal with everything by himself. I was off in college and living a normal life while his was slowly falling apart.
I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness. When I reach the big willow tree, I collapse to my knees and sob. The manila folder is still clutched in my hands, and I place it on the ground before me. I can't bear to look at the articles anymore right now. It's like putting salt on an open wound. My soul is just too raw to bear it.
I allow the tears to flow down my cheeks as I weep into the night.
"I hope you're not cryin' because of me," says a voice.
Startled, I turn to the sound of the voice and see Colton walking towards me. The shadows across his face make him look older, and I'm starting to wonder if it's only been five years since the last time I've seen him. It suddenly feels much, much longer. I never stopped thinking about him, never stopped loving him. He obviously doesn't feel the same way about me, but how could he? I abandoned him when he needed me the most. And my excuse of not knowing isn't going to fix anything. I could have come home. I could have tried calling friends, neighbors, relatives…anyone. I was scared. I was hurt, and I was angry at him. If I had known the truth…it would have changedeverything.
Colton edges towards me. "What are you doin' out here anyway?"
I look up at him and quickly dash away my tears with my fingertips. "I had a fight with my parents."
His brows knit together in confusion. "No. I mean what are you doin'here? How did you even know about this place?"
I stare at him in disbelief. "So you're just refusing to acknowledge everything we ever shared," I say with a huff. "I get it. I would be mad at me too." I stand and brush my shorts off. Scooping up the manila folder, I say, "I'll leave you alone. Maybe we can talk some other time."
I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm. This time his grip is much gentler than before in the bar. "Wait. What's your name?" he asks.
"Seriously, Colt?"
"I am serious," he says with vehemence.
