“Oh, my baby, my baby…” More crying. It is painful to hear. Mymother is a woman who’s suffered a lot. She’s spent her life metering that suffering back out little by little as if she can give it away. As if it doesn’t just multiply.
“Mom,” I try again. “Mom, did you know the truth? About what Claire did? And I don’t just mean George. I’m talking about Marc and Luca, too.”
“Oh, my baby…” She is choking. The words sound stuck in her throat. “My baby, I should have told you it’s not your fault. None of it.”
So she knew. She knew. And her confession makes this all real, thoughts sliding from strong suspicion to concrete fact. “How could you not tell me? How could you let me live thinking—”
“Baby, you don’t understand—”
My own throat is swelling with everything I want to say, that I can’t say. “Mom…” I’m dismayed to find tears gathering in my eyes. I take the sleeve of my shirt and drag it across my face. “You could have…have—”
“How? I only—”
“I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” A furtive glance at James. “This has really messed with my head, you know that? This whole time you’ve let me—no—mademe feel like a stain. Like an evil—”
“Baby—”
“Goodbye, Mother.”
The line goes dead. I’m all too aware of the proximity of James’s body to mine as he changes gears. He says nothing for a moment as I try to figure out if I can somehow recover my dignity, having just stripped bare in front of him. I close my eyes. Deep, even breaths. I count to ten. Feel a hand on my thigh, squeezing. It makes me want to cry more.
“I’m okay,” I say. James’s thin-lipped smile tells me he knows it’s nottrue. So we’re both lying to each other now. Wonderful. I want to open my mouth to have it out with him. This idea of starting with a clean slate, this chance he says we’ve been given, it doesn’t work if we’re still lying to each other. But I want him to talk first.
Before I can raise the challenge, I see we’re curving onto a residential street. The GPS is telling us we’ve reached our destination. It’s time.
“Are you sure this is a good idea? Confronting him tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah. I want this over with.”
The car comes to a stop. There is only one light on upstairs in the detached house. It’s very late. The kids will be asleep. I wonder if Vanessa is letting Will sleep in their marital bed or if he’s bunked up in the spare room.
A click echoes through the now deathly quiet car as James unbuckles his seat belt.
“Maybe you wait here, Nat. This is…I mean I…” He looks out the car window, breathes heavily, looks back at me. “I’ve let you down a lot recently. The money, talking to Will in the first place…And right now you’re going through a lot. I mean, even just now with your mom…I know you won’t want to talk about it, but—I just…I think I should handle this.”
I reach out to take his hand. He squeezes our palms together.
“We’re in this together,” I say, my stomach still secretly turning somersaults. Why did I drink so much wine?
“I promise I’ll be okay. It’s just…This is my brother. I think this is something I need to handle myself.”
I nod and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push out the hundred other thoughts fighting for attention. I am not my best self right now. My sense of self, in fact, is on incredibly shaky ground. A strong gust of wind could blow it away.
“Okay,” I say.
“Okay.”
He leans over, takes me by the face, and kisses me hard.
“Okay,” he says again, more to himself this time. With one final deep breath, he pushes open the car door and steps into the night. I watch him as he goes, chest puffed up, taking big steps. It makes me want to cry. He looks so much like a child like this. Like a little boy going to confront his bullies. Or maybe I’m just projecting. I was always so scared as a child. Of my dad, of my mother, of myself…Of everything, really. I know sham bravery when I see it. But it’s time James finally learned how to stand up to his big brother. He’s right.
Lights flicker on behind the windows downstairs and the door swings open. To my surprise, it’s not Will’s figure I see in the door, but the figure of a diminutive woman in her late forties instead, blond hair swept up into a bun and a robe clinging to her body. Vanessa. I can just about see her look past James into the soundless street. James casts a look over his shoulder in turn, settling on me in the car.
After another moment, Vanessa steps aside, and James is absorbed by the house. I close my eyes once more, try to will myself into feeling less nauseous; try to push aside the feelings of deep betrayal; try to focus on one nightmare coming to an end, James snatching Will’s leverage away from him, maybe even getting some of our money back.
Despite how it feels, despite the chasm of despair opening beneath me, threatening to suck me in, today has been a good day.
It has been a good day.
