Chapter 30 Now
Now
James’s grip is tight on the steering wheel. Mine is tight on my phone.
I still haven’t heard any more from Claire, despite all the messages I’ve sent her.
Tell me you wouldn’t do this to me
I’ll never forgive this
This feels worse than what any of them have ever done
Please tell me I’m wrong. Maybe there’s an explanation?
It’s a warm evening, the car air-con on full blast. I’m not sure if I’m ready to face Will, the wet rag of Claire’s betrayal wrapped tightly around my face, stymieing my breath, obscuring all my senses.
But I am ready to end one of my nightmares if I can.
The blackmail can finally stop. There’s a literal bittersweetness beneath my tongue at that thought.
It reminds me of the gentle sweetness that floods my mouth before I’m violently sick.
And I do feel sick. I should feel boundless relief, freedom, and joy.
But my sister’s duplicity sits heavy on my shoulders.
This silence, her inability to offer me the smallest relief or explanation, is slowly killing me.
There’s a sheen of sweat on my forehead; my fingertips tingle; my chest is tight.
I thought it was the hot air, but despite the arctic blast pumping out of the air vents, I still can’t breathe.
“Air” is all I say, jamming a finger down on a button that sends my window sliding open.
James glances at me, looks back at the road, then glances again. Things are a little strained between us. I’ve apologized a hundred times for the lies. But somehow, now, he seems even more on edge around me than before.
“You okay?” he asks.
Yes. No. Maybe. “I’m just…It’s a lot.”
He nods, eyes on the road and hands tighter on the wheel. I’m still a little drunk from all the Picpoul, which hasn’t helped. And now, even the gaping window, fresh air beating my face, isn’t helping. I wonder if I really might throw up.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
A bewildered look flashes across his face.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He shuffles in his seat.
The car picks up speed. The set of James’s shoulders is casual, and his face is ostensibly…
well, if determined, still relatively relaxed.
And yet there’s an energy radiating off him that makes me uncomfortable.
There’s been something unfailingly artificial in every smile, reassuring hug, and enthusiastic comment he’s made to me since hearing the news this evening.
I’m too tipsy to untangle it, and sober, I’m not sure how much easier it would be.
James is good at keeping a lid on his emotions.
We take a few sharp turns, and I can’t help but feel we’re hurtling toward an inevitability.
As if the very thought has conjured her like a malignant spirit, my phone starts buzzing.
A blank circle, photo long since deleted, but name clear: Melissa Doe.
For the first time in years, I’m less conflicted about picking up the phone and speaking to her.
After all, it’s the poison she’s tried to feed me about Claire that’s driven us apart.
More than the psychological warfare, more than never being enough for her.
I notice James notice my screen, but he knows me well enough not to bother to ask about it.
Deep, even breaths.
My finger hovers over the green answer button. James is doing his best to focus on the road, but I can feel him watching what’s happening out of the corner of his eye. I hit the answer button. His jaw drops open.
“Mother.”
There’s a faint, rasping breath, and then sobbing. Wild, unburdened sobbing.
The car speeds along the road, wind whipping my face. For the first time, I wonder what’s prompting this call. The thundering wind doesn’t leave much space for my mother’s reply, but even beneath the roar I can tell that there is only silence on the other end of the line. I roll the window up.
“Did you know?” I ask. “I was talking to my therapist today, and she asked me some questions that…that got me thinking. About my exes. About what happened to them. Claire.” A wail on the other end of the line. “Did you know?”
“Oh, my baby, my baby…” More crying. It is painful to hear. My mother 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—made me 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 not true.
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.
It’s a good day.
Somewhere, a bird chirps in a tree. I wonder if it’s an owl, this time of night.
I’ve never really known much about nature in detail.
I wonder if any future children of mine might take an interest. Would they want to go camping?
James would make a great camping dad. I wonder if I’m even fit for having them at all.
I wonder if it’s stupid even thinking about them.
So much for distracting myself with a light bit of fantasizing.