Letter Twenty #5
That’s when I really began to beg. It sounded exactly like the horrible begging routine you and Sienna had witnessed. The same desperate whining Michael couldn’t stand. Nic tried to shush me. He told me to calm down. He begged me to stop. Then Bree entered the kitchen and yelled it herself: “Stop!”
I paused to look at her, struggling to compose myself, tears still streaming down my face, my breath coming out in ragged little gasps.
Libby stood. “Bree.” She walked over to Bree and gripped her arm. “What—”
“She’s telling the truth,” Bree said. “I dropped a drinking glass that day she cut herself and threw it in the trash. I buried it deep, sharp side up, so it wouldn’t cut through the bag or anything.”
“So you lied,” John said, rising from the table, his expression hardening. “You lied that night when your mother asked if anyone had thrown something like that in the garbage.”
Bree nodded, eyes brimming with tears.
“What possessed you to sit back and let us accuse Elliot of something she didn’t do?” John demanded.
“I was angry,” Bree confessed. “Angry she told you about me and Amber. Angry you made me sleep in the parents’ wing.”
Nic aimed a look of stern disapproval at her. “You let me ignore her for days. You heard us talking about this last night, and you didn’t say anything.”
“I know, but I didn’t realize you’d actually send her this time,” Bree told my dad. Her choice of words—this time—suggested Nic had talked to the Harrises about sending me somewhere in the past. “I wanted to get back at her, but not like this. I’m really sorry, Nic.”
Nic turned to me, his gaze apologetic. “Elliot—”
But I jumped up, shoved past him, and stormed upstairs to my room, where I left my phone on the bathroom counter while I took a long, hot shower. When I got out, I saw the missed calls. The texts from you and Michael.
His said: I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. Please call me back.
Yours said: I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how horrible the last few days must’ve been for you. Please call me.
Enraged, I left both your asses on read.
Sometime later, I ventured back downstairs and wandered outside to the beach. The day was overcast and cooler than normal—a light breeze coming off the water—so I pulled my knees up to my chin and hugged my legs, digging my toes into the sand. Within minutes, someone dropped down beside me.
“Listen,” my dad said. “I should’ve believed you.”
“Whatever.” I pulled the sleeves of my Harvard sweatshirt over my hands.
“I feel sick about it, Elliot.”
“What else is new? You always expect the worst of me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it is.”
Nic was silent a minute. “You’ve tricked me before. The nanny incident? I fell for the tears that time, you made me feel awful for not believing you, and it turned out you were lying to me. You’d been lying the whole time.”
“And you punished me for that, didn’t you? The therapy? The letters? That woman called me a psychopath, Dad, and you let me beg her to forgive me when she didn’t want to.”
Nic stared ahead, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry I let you do that.”
“Until next time, you mean.”
He started to say something else, but I cut him off.
“You know, John says Michael and I aren’t good for each other, but I promised Michael I wouldn’t hurt myself around my birthday anymore, and I intend to keep that promise.”
“Well, great. I’m glad to hear that. Still doesn’t make Michael good for you.”
“He’s the only person who accepts me for who I really am.”
Nic cocked his head to the side, studying my face. “And who are you?”
Here’s what I could’ve said: Someone who asks for messed-up things. A liar. A freak.
Instead, I said, “That’s not the point. The point is, he knows everything about me, and he loves me, anyway.”
“Except the problem is,” Nic said, “you don’t love him back.”
“Of course I love Michael.”
“But you aren’t in love with him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that, and so do you. You and Michael don’t belong together. You just don’t want me or John to be right.”
Sometimes, it really pissed me off how well my dad knew me. I hated when he was right about being right.
“Yeah? While you’re so concerned about being right, here’s what I’m afraid of: falling in love with a person who can’t accept me for who I am. What’s better? We love each other and he accepts all of me? Or we’re in love and he can’t, so I have to keep parts of myself hidden from him?”
Nic brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “If he’s truly in love with you, he’ll accept all of you, even the parts you’re afraid to show him. I promise he will. You’ll never have to hide.”
Tears leapt to my eyes. I blinked them back. “Whatever. Do you realize this is the first summer I’ve spent away from Michael, not to mention the longest I’ve ever been apart from him?”
“The same goes for me. You think I like it? You think it’s easy for me?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“He’s my godson. I’ve known him since the day he was born.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You win.”
“What about Casey? You don’t miss him?”
“Of course I do. This is the longest I’ve been apart from Casey since we met, and I hate it.”
“I hate it, too. I’d fly them back tomorrow if I could, but Claire needs Casey. And while Casey’s needed there, he’ll need Michael.”
“Because his dad’s a piece of shit?”
“Yes,” Nic said, eyes flashing. “I would’ve suggested Michael go with him regardless of what happened between you two last summer. That asshole who raised Casey is not good for him.”
“That’s what Michael says. Michael hates him.”
“So you do agree Michael’s right where he belongs?”
“Yes, Dad,” I said, heaving an exasperated sigh. “I’m glad Casey has his brother there to help him through it.”
Nic reared back, gaping at me. “His what?”
My heart seized as I realized my mistake. “Um…what?”
“Elliot,” he said sternly. “What do you know?”
I winced. “Everything?”
“How do you know? How long have you known?”
“I found the paternity test in your office right after you told Casey, and he explained everything. I’ve known for almost a year now.”
Nic threw his head back. “Goddammit.”
“I guess occasionally something does slip past you,” I pointed out.
Nic cast me a disgruntled look.
“I thought he was my brother. I freaked out.”
“What right did you have to go through my office?”
“What right do you have to keep this gigantic secret from John? Casey’s his, but you act like Casey’s your son.”
“Listen,” Nic said, one hand flung out. “This secret is eating me alive, Elliot. But I have to respect Casey’s wishes. And in the meantime, yes, I feel obligated to be what Casey needs right now: a reliable father figure.”
“Obligated? You acted like his father long before you knew about John.”
“You’re right. Obligated isn’t the right word. I want to fulfill that role for Casey. I want to be someone he can rely on.”
“You wanted him to be yours. That’s why you waited so long after he moved in to do the paternity test.”
Nic held my gaze. “I wanted him to be mine. That’s true. Yes.”
Finally, I thought. Finally, he admitted it. Nic had wanted you to be his, and for some reason, that bothered me.
“Because you always wanted a son.”
“No,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s hard to explain. There’s just something about Casey, you know? He’s—”
“A good person.”
“He is a good person,” Nic said, and there it was. What bothered me most. Had Nic ever called me good? Ever in my life? “But that isn’t what—”
“Yeah. He’s good, and I’m not. He came along and you thought, Oh, wow, this one wasn’t born wrong. This one I can be proud of. This one will be easy to love.”
“Elliot, no.”
“I won’t have to send this one to a psychiatric hospital for self-harm.”
“Stop it—”
“I bet finding out Casey didn’t belong to you was hard, right? John has three good kids, and all you have is me. All I do is hurt you. All I do is rip your heart out.”
“Stop. I regret saying that to you.”
I wanted to hurt Nic for not believing me, but I also wanted to hurt him for wanting you. Why couldn’t he be content with what he had? Why wasn’t I ever good enough?
“Why?” I demanded. “You wouldn’t have said it unless it was true. You wanted him, because he’s everything I’m not. Because he makes you happier than I ever have.”
“That’s bullshit, Elliot. I wanted him for us.
And you don’t make me happy? I tried to be happy when you got into Harvard, and you wouldn’t allow it.
Tried being happy the day of your graduation, and you wouldn’t allow that, either.
Every year on your birthday, I tell you how much you mean to me, because that’s the only way I get to celebrate the day you were born.
I just spent weeks taking you to all the places we used to go together, because I like spending time with you.
Because this is the last summer it feels like you’re still a kid, and that fucking destroys me.
It physically”—he grasped his heart—“it kills me. I hoped we’d have a good time together this summer.
That you’d be happy to spend time with me, too.
That you’d talk to me and laugh with me and give me something to hold onto when you go off to college, and I have to face the devastating reality that it’s gone.
That’s it for us. Your childhood’s officially over.
Technically, it’s over, anyway. You’re a grown woman now, and that floors me.
It doesn’t seem possible that I first held you in my arms nineteen years ago. ”
He threw his hands out, as if to mimic holding a little baby. Holding me.
“No one on this planet makes me happier than you do,” he said thickly, “yet anytime I want to express how happy you make me, you take that happiness and you stomp it into the ground.” He ripped his gaze from mine, turning back to the horizon. “Like missing your graduation. That just…”
He swallowed hard, unable to finish.
“Ripped your heart out?” I asked.
He didn’t say yes, but the wretched expression on his face certainly did.