Chapter Thirty-Two
Maron
I only glance at my phone screen hours later.
Seven missed calls from Eva and a voicemail. I’m really not in the mood to call her back, especially with Mindy sleeping next to me. But when I go to the bathroom, I decide to take my phone with me and listen to the voicemail.
"Maron... please… help me. I did… I did something stupid. Please… help."
She’s obviously drunk because she’s slurring. I don’t really know what to make of it, but honestly, I can’t bring myself to care. She still hasn’t presented any proof of her alleged pregnancy, and at this point, I’m convinced she isn’t pregnant at all. As far as I’m concerned, she can drink as much as she wants.
I head back to the bedroom and plop down on the bed next to Mindy. "I missed you," I blurt, immediately regretting the words even though they’re true.
Despite our relationship being fresh and fragile, Mindy doesn’t seem to mind my honesty. "I missed you too," she whispers back, "more than you’ll ever know." She pauses, letting the silence stretch between us.
But then, her expression darkens. Her eyes suddenly look haunted in the dim light and I know exactly why. I know there’s an elephant in the room we need to address. Well, multiple elephants. Seven years of unspoken words hang between us. A series of events and betrayals that tore our relationship apart all those years ago. I watch her fingers nervously trace patterns on the bedspread and it hits me how she feels simultaneously so familiar and so foreign.
There’s still a lot we need to talk about.
We both know that.
As she turns to face me fully, her voice comes out low and intense, full of emotion. "So… about Maurice-" she starts, but I decide to cut her off. I don’t want to talk about Maurice right now. There’s something more pressing on my mind.
"What about Sharon’s father?" I ask.
Mindy’s breath catches. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. It is obvious that she’s caught off guard and struggling to find words. "Sharon…" she trails off. "Her father…"
"Mindy, what happened?" I press, sensing the tension in her voice. I must know the truth. "Is he dead? Did he hurt you?" The thought makes my blood boil. If some abusive cunt knocked her up after we broke up, I’m going to hunt him down and gut him like a pig.
She shakes her head, and I notice tears in the corners of her eyes. My mind races, imagining worst-case scenarios, but I wait patiently. My fists clench and unclench as I struggle to contain my rising rage. If someone hurt her, I’m going to rip the motherfucker open with my bare hands.
When she finally speaks, her voice comes out so soft that I have to strain to hear what she’s saying. "Sharon’s father isn’t dead and he didn’t hurt me. He was close to death once… but he’s very much alive."
I struggle to make sense of this. Is she implying what I think she is? "Where is he?" I ask the million-dollar question and my words come out as a hoarse mumble. My heart is beating against my rib cage and my throat is drier than a fucking desert.
Mindy turns to me. Her lips tremble, and for a moment, I think she’s going to change the subject. But she doesn’t. "Sharon’s father is right here, Maron," she says. "In this room with me."
I stare at her dumbly.
Her words knock the air from my lungs. My mind reels, desperately trying to comprehend what I’ve just heard.
Impossible.
And yet…
And yet it’s true. I knew it. Somewhere, deep down, I knew it the moment I saw Sharon on that stage, struggling to find her voice. I knew it the moment I realized how much she resembles Cordelia. And I knew it the moment I walked into that hospital room and saw Mindy resting by her bedside.
"Say that again," I demand, staring at her like an idiot.
Mindy’s gaze locks onto mine, unflinching. I see a flood of emotion in her eyes, including the unshakeable love she has for Sharon. Then she drops the bombshell, leaving no further room for doubt.
"Sharon is your daughter, Maron."