Letter Twenty-Four #8
“Of course it is,” John said softly. “I know why you don’t feel comfortable sending her, and you wouldn’t have to if you’d just…consider what I’ve been saying.”
My dad heaved a sigh.
John kept going. “You need to sit down with someone together and talk about the past. At some point, Nic—no”—some muttering by my dad—“Nic, you have to come clean, before you completely destroy your relationship with her. It’s like she said at brunch: we’ve been lying, and lies hurt.
Our lies keep hurting this family, and they’re hurting her the most. So of course she’s acting out.
Of course she’s taking out her frustration in ways that—”
“Wait a minute, John,” Libby said. “Are you excusing what she did to the signs?”
A pause here, followed by another sigh—this time one of John’s. “No, Libby. I’m saying I understand why she did what she did, because you have been keeping secrets. We all have.”
“And you don’t think,” Libby said, “she’ll completely self-destruct when she learns the truth? I have to agree with Nic on this. The truth might do her more harm than good right now. She needs real help—before she can ever be expected to handle something of that magnitude.”
Not only did I badly want to know this “truth” my dad needed to tell me, but I didn’t like that they were discussing my behavior as if I belonged to all three of them. As if John or Libby should have any say in whether or not my dad sent me away.
“Look,” Nic said. “The campaign signs? That was bad, okay? But it didn’t cost you the election, and she didn’t physically hurt anyone.
She just—she was having a hard time. I shouldn’t have let her skip all that therapy leading up to Halloween.
I shouldn’t have stepped back when I did.
So, really, this is my fault. If I just talk to her—if I can convince her to go back to therapy, she’ll—”
“Nic,” Libby said. “You’re blaming yourself for Elliot’s behavior the same way you blamed yourself there at the end with Vicky.
You’re blaming yourself instead of holding her accountable.
Everyone told you to make Vicky leave, that she was never going to be what you wanted her to be, that her behavior would continue to escalate if you allowed it—and it did. ”
“Right, and that was my fault,” said Nic. “I’m responsible for all of it. I’m to blame for Elliot’s issues, too—because I walked away. I left. I fucked up. And because of that, she’s fucked up. My daughter’s broken—and that’s on me.”
Want to talk about something that really breaks a person, Casey? That’s the moment I knew all my worst fears about myself were true. They had to be, right? How else could my dad call me broken?
I pushed off the wall and entered the kitchen. My dad slowly lifted up from the counter while the Harrises—both sitting in stools at the island—twisted to face me.
“So you admit it,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I am messed up. You lied about that, too.”
Libby and John winced while my dad rushed over to me, his face paling, his eyes shining bright. “No, honey. No. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No,” he said, clutching me by the shoulders. “Baby, no.”
“I’m a horrible person. So John and Libby are right: you should send me away.”
“Elliot, you’re not a horrible person.”
“You don’t have to keep lying to make me feel better. You can tell me the truth. I’m so much like her that it scares you, right?”
Nic’s jaw hardened. “Libby never should’ve said that, and I don’t agree. I love you, Elliot. Exactly the way you are.”
“Even though I said some really hurtful stuff to you?”
“Even though you said some really hurtful things to me, yes.”
“I’m tired of being mad at you, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, honey,” he said, pulling me into a hug and pressing my head to his chest. “I know.”
Libby stood, gripping the back of the stool. “Nic, don’t let yourself be swayed.”
But Nic only stiffened, squeezing me tighter. “Libby, I’d like you both to leave.”
“Nic,” Libby said, clutching John’s forearm.
“Let me handle this my way,” Nic said, and though I couldn’t see his face, whatever Libby saw there definitely caused her to flinch.
John led Libby out the back door, and Nic led me over to the island, where I tearfully apologized again and asked for his forgiveness.
Where he brushed away my tears and apologized, too, instantly forgiving me.
Where I forced myself to forget about his relationship with the Harrises, and how psycho he’d been acting lately, and whatever this truth was that he didn’t want to tell me, because he was giving me something I didn’t deserve: mercy.
Mercy, yet again.
Mercy, for maybe the hundredth time in my short life.
Also, I just really missed him and wanted things to go back to normal.
“I’ll go back to therapy,” I promised. “I hurt myself because I felt bad about hurting you, but I won’t do it again. I’ll be good. I promise.”
Nic dropped his gaze, squeezing my hand where it rested on the counter. “Okay.”
I could tell he didn’t believe me.