Sick to my stomach. The truth about Ali kept me in a constant state of nausea. The throbbing headache pounding behind my left eye didn’t help. And I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in the two days since I’d learned the truth. When I did manage to fall asleep, it was in short, jagged, restless spurts. I wanted to dream of Ali. To see him again, to comfort him, at least in my dreams. But he never showed.
“The last thing you need is to catch something from me,” I told her, “and give it to Khalid and the girls.”
“No problem. I’ll wear a face mask.”
“Listen, Lulu. Take a hint.” My voice hardened. “I lost my husband not four months ago. I deserve time to grieve in whatever form that takes without you jumping down my throat.”
“Oh.” Her tone gentled. “Is that what this is?”
Tears stung my eyes. Not exactly. But I was in mourning. Despairing that Ali had endured his guilt alone. If only he’d shared the burden. Maybe I could have eased it. What happened with Lizzie’s dad was anaccident, and Ali was a kid caught in an impossible situation. A scared teenager who followed the directions of the only adult in the room.
That teenage boy must have been so frightened. The adult he became had to have been riddled with guilt. Lying by omission, hiding the truth, went against everything Ali was as a person. I believed Lizzie about Ali feeling the need to talk to her about what happened. Part of me was actually grateful she’d been there for him.
“Just let me be in my feelings,” I said to my sister, fatigue weighing me down. The truth drained everything from me. “I promise I’m OK.”
“Are you sure? I’m worried.”
“I’m sure. The only way through this is to let myself experience all of the emotions. I’m not going to let anything happen to me. I’d never hurt the kids that way. You? Maybe,” I said, making a faint joke. “But not my babies.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”
As I disconnected the call, my phone pinged. A text from an unfamiliar number.
It’s Lizzie. I’m just checking in to make sure you’re OK.
How had she gotten my number? From her brother probably. I pushed myself out of bed.Bintilazily stretched on her nearby dog bed. A museum project was due soon, and I never missed a deadline. But my head felt too cottony to tackle anything harder than making a cup of coffee. I trudged into the kitchen, withBintion my heels. I selected a coffee pod. Normally I went for decaf, but I needed a full shot of caffeine to make it through the day. Turning on the kitchen faucet, I filled the coffee machine’s water tank.
Yawning, I stood by as the machine whirred, dripping the steaming dark liquid into my coffee cup, the deep, nutty aroma floating through the kitchen. I’d started using Ali’s favorite cup. He wasn’t one for hugethick mugs. He preferred the thinner, smaller ones and drank his coffee to the last drop, while I barely got through half of mine.
I gaveBintiher breakfast and refreshed her water. Watching her eat, I sipped the hot, bitter coffee. Black with no cream or sugar. One of the hardest parts of learning the truth was not being able to talk to anyone about it. I normally told Lulu everything. But Ali had taken the secret to his death. Telling anyone would be a betrayal of my husband and his memory.
Reaching for my phone, I called the last person I ever imagined turning to for comfort. Lizzie picked up almost right away.
“Are you all right?” she asked immediately. “I’ve been worried about you.”
I’d had a lot of time over the last few days to think about Lizzie’s culpability in all this. When I thought of Ayla at age seventeen, I knew I couldn’t blame Lizzie. She’d been just a kid at the time too. It was even hard to find fault with her mother’s initial instinct to send Ali home to spare them all from her husband’s anger. Martha Martins couldn’t have known what she was setting in motion.
I exhaled into the phone. “It’s a pretty heavy thing to carry. I hate that Ali had to bear it for all of his adult life.”
She was silent for a long moment. “It is hard. That’s why I tried to keep you from learning the truth. It serves no purpose except to haunt you like it does my family.”
“But I was like a dog with a bone.”
She gave a quiet laugh. “You are very persistent.”
“Everything finally makes sense now about why Ali helped you and your brother.”
“My brother?” I registered the frown in her voice. “What does Billy have to do with this?”
“Ali got him a position at his firm.”
“He did? Billy never told me that. He shouldn’t have asked Ali to help him. My brother’s not great at holding down a job.” Her exasperation came through the phone. “But who am I to talk? I convinced Ali to help me hidemy purchase of the Cozy Glenn house. I’m sorry about keeping it a secret from you. He truly didn’t want to.”
“None of that feels like it matters now,” I responded. “But I reserve the right to be mad about it later.”
“Noted,” she said with another light chuckle.
