Over, but not forgotten. Now that the night’s adrenaline has worn off, I feel shaky and exhausted. All I want to do is crawl into bed. I don’t know what will come next, but hopefully Wes and I can figure it all out together. After he’s finished with his business at the police station. And after I’ve had a chance to get some sleep.
Lyle—dear, sweet Lyle who jumped onstage to protect me from my uncle—offers to drive me to a hotel. I know staying at the Lodge would be more convenient, but it feels too close to my family, to my memories. I need some distance.
Unfortunately, there isn’t much else in terms of lodging in Green Valley. “I can catch a bus up to Knoxville,” I tell him. I’m sure he must be tired, too; and now that I’ve basically blown up his show, he’s going to have a lot of work to do.
He looks at me like I’ve deeply offended him by making the suggestion. “Over my dead body,” he says, and ushers me out to his car.
We’re silent most of the drive. I know Lyle would let me talk to him if I wanted to, but I need time to process. To think. I stare out the window at the beautiful forest. I can’t help but remember Harmony’s excitement as we drove into town.Harmony. She’s going to be absolutely devastated for so many reasons. Her father has been arrested. The show is over. Nate R. never existed, not really.
I’ll think about that, and her, later. But for now, I give myself some space to think about myself. About whatIwent through tonight. About what I was able to accomplish.
Catching a glimpse of my own reflection in the car window, I give myself an encouraging nod. Somehow it helps, even though I’m only talking to myself. Maybe that’s where it starts sometimes—silencing all those ugly outside voices. Maybe the first step is to be kind to myself, to show grace to myself, and to forgive myself for all the times I wasn’t as strong as I wish I would have been.
No more freezing, I tell myself silently.You can only move forward now.
It’s a start, at least.
Once I’m checked into a hotel in the suburbs just outside of Knoxville, Lyle makes sure I’m settled in before he heads back to Green Valley. Alone in the room, I take the opportunity to first delete the app my uncle and aunt have been using to track my activity, with the help from a handy YouTube tutorial to make sure I’ve severed the connection completely; then to message my friends and tell them what’s happened, or as much as I can possibly explain over text.
It’s late, and I don’t expect to hear back until morning, so I’m surprised when my phone starts blowing up with replies. Most of them from Matilda.
Matilda: Nina, come home now!!!
Matilda: I just booked you a plane ticket.
Matilda: Never mind, I’m sending you a plane.
I don’t know where to even begin to respond to all of that, so I send the GIF of the little boy who starts out laughing and then abruptly starts crying. That about sums up my mood right now.
After a few minutes of presumably talking his wife down, Kimo joins in:
Kimo: We’ll come to you in the morning. I’ve set it up for everyone who can make it. You ok with that Peke?
After a moment, a few more chimes follow.
Grady: I’ll be there.
Helen: We’ll be there, too.
Thad is part of that we, obviously, but evenhechimes in with a thumbs-up emoji. Coming from Thad, that’s a pretty big deal. I feel honored.
I’m happy my friends are on their way. I’m excited for them to meet Wes, and for Wes to meet them. But I realize that before they get here, there are a few things I’ll need to take care of.
Even though I know I don’t need to, I write two letters—one to Harmony, and one to Aunt Hope. I know I could just text them, but somehow a text doesn’t hold the same weight to it. I want them to have a physical letter, my handwriting, my words written out in permanent ink—something that isn’t easy to delete or ignore.
I write to Harmony first, because for some reason, I feel like I have the most explaining to do to her.
Harmony, I know you probably don’t want to hear from me now, or maybe ever again. I understand if you feel that way. I just want you to know, it was never my intention to hurt you. It’s a long, complicated story, but I knew “Nate R.” long before he was a contestant on the show. If you’re interested, I can tell you more about it some time. But I don’t want to try to justify hurting you, because I know I have, and I won’t try to excuse that. Please know that I love you and that I’m here if you ever need me. Always.
Love,
Nina
Aunt Hope’s letter is more complicated in many ways. Despite everything, I can’t help but feel some residual guilt that I’ve destroyed her life as she knows it—or at least, I know that’s how she’ll see it. Never mind what Aaron Miller did to cause all of this. Aunt Hope has lived with her head buried in the sand for so long that she’ll seek blame for the disruption of her peace, not for the actual cause of the rot in her family.
Some part of me still feels like I owe her for everything she did for me. But when I try to sit down and write a sympathetic letter to her, I find that I can’t. So instead I write the things to her that I realize now I must have always wanted to say, but never felt brave enough to try—not even brave enough to think.
Aunt Hope, please know I never wanted to hurt you. If I could have protected you and the kids, I would have. But I can’t help but wonder, why didn’t you try to protect me, too? I was a child when I came to you. Did you really have no idea how many lives Aaron destroyed? Even if you didn’t, you definitely knew about all the ways he alienated me from the rest of the family. You knew that he treated me more like a servant than a niece. You knew he took every opportunity possible to remind me of my place. I never asked for money, for nice things. I never wanted to take away anything from the rest of you. Why couldn’t you have just loved me? Why did it always have to be conditional? Why did you make me earn everything I was given, all the tiny scraps that weren’t nearly enough to make me feel safe or happy?
