Chapter 45
45
Tovah
W hen he slammed out of the bathroom, I sank down, my back rubbing against the tile as I slid down the wall, hitting the shower floor with a painful thud. Water poured over my head, making it hard to breathe, and for a while I gave in, because what was the point? I hurt so badly, I could barely breathe, anyway. I might as well drown here.
I’d told Isaac everything except for what my mother and I had done to my stepfather. I’d taken a huge risk, confessing that my mother was alive, and instead of listening to me and understanding me, Isaac had thrown it back in my face. He didn’t believe me, didn’t trust me. He still thought I was writing the exposé.
I snorted. Toby had wanted to talk to me about an exposé last night, but it had nothing to do with Isaac’s family. No, it was about me. Turned out someone had taken photos of me dressed in that slutty maid uniform and when I was tied to the founders’ statue. Toby had told Veronica about it, who proposed an article about a kinky journalist who got involved with the subject of her article. Is Journalistic Integrity a Thing of the Past? Sex, Kinks, and Tovah Kaufman was the headline.
It was going to ruin my entire career. But I had no idea what to do about it. Toby had said if I had something better , he’d kill the piece, but the only thing I had was the exposé about Isaac’s family.
It would be so easy to finish writing the article I’d started, load it up onto The Daily Queen website, and hit publish. To choose my mother over him.
But I couldn’t. As I sat there with Toby, all I could see was Isaac’s face when he discovered I’d betrayed him that way. Seeing him dragged away in handcuffs—the scary kind—and knowing I’d destroyed his life. I couldn’t do that to him. Couldn’t hurt him that way, because it would be like ripping my own heart out.
In that moment, I chose Isaac over my mom. In my head, I’d promised her that I’d find another way to free her. I didn’t know how, but I would.
It just wouldn’t be by hurting Isaac.
But here I was, soaking wet in his shower. I’d seen his face, and it had been more horrible than I’d ever imagined. He’d been so angry, frightening enough that I’d flinched and protected myself when he loomed over me, soaked and livid. I knew, of course, that he’d never hit me, but it made me flash back to times my stepfather had been angry.
Isaac would never hit me, but he had hurt me, and his words would leave bruises.
So had him dumping me. He’d never left me before. Even at the worst of our battles, I’d never imagined him kicking me out of his house, which had been beginning to feel like a real home. He’d been so emphatic that I was his and he was mine, I’d believed him.
Tovah, bashert, I promise, the only person I’m ever marrying is you.
He’d said those words just last night, even when we were fighting, but clearly he didn’t mean them.
I thought I’d run out of tears, that there were none left. But as I sat there in the shower, hugging my knees, my tears mixed with the water pouring over me, until I didn’t know which was which. The water turned cold, and still, I didn’t move. I welcomed the cold, the pain, hoping it would numb my heart so I’d stop feeling so much.
It didn’t work.