17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
Six months ago
“I’m going to email David about the book,” Paige said. “And I know what you’re going to say, but—”
“You do? Does it rhyme with ‘Fuck him’?” Jules asked bluntly.
Paige and Jules were having dinner in Macaroni’s, their favorite Italian restaurant, and Jules was on her second gimlet. Paige had waited until they were half done with their meal to bring up the subject of telling David about the book and was now thinking she should’ve just started when they sat down. Unlike most people, Jules didn’t get easier with alcohol.
“I actually thought you were going to just say ‘no’,” Paige said drily.
“Are you kidding? ‘No’ isn’t strong enough. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve the courtesy.” Jules leaned forward, her expression on fire. “He never acknowledged what you went through with Spook and couldn’t be bothered to call you back. That was so shitty.”
“I agree. That was shitty. But he has responded to my emails.”
Jules took a large bite of her eggplant Parmesan and then talked as she chewed. “I know, but those responses were also shitty. Remember when you told him you were selling the house—the house he adamantly wanted you to have in the divorce—and he didn’t even care? That didn’t make any sense.”
“No, it didn’t.”
“And what about the money? I understand why he didn’t want any of the furniture, but who turns down twenty large?”
“Twenty ‘large’?”
“Twenty grand.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “Someone needs to quit watching gangster movies.”
Jules ignored that. “I don’t think you should contact him about the book.”
“The book is set to publish in two months. I think he needs to know. There’s personal stuff in there.”
Jules pushed her plate away in frustration. “Fuck him.”
“‘Fuck him’ can’t be your answer to everything.”
“Sure it can. It can work in almost any situation.” Jules gave Paige a long look. “Look, if you tell him, you might be drawing his attention to something he would never have found out about anyway. I mean, what are the chances he’d ever come across your book and know it was yours? You went back to your maiden name and it’s being published under that.”
“He’ll still know it’s me, Jules. He knows my maiden name.”
“He might think it’s another person named Paige Clemons.”
“The cover of the book is a picture of me with Carter. He’s going to know. And what if he’s pissed to find out about Carter in a book?”
“Then he’s pissed. And that’s on him. Not you. You tried to talk to him about Carter, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I know you think this time will be different. But what if it isn’t?”
Paige sighed before saying, “I still have to try because I’ve written a book about it, which means it’ll be out there. And he could say that because I hadn’t told him exactly what I wanted to talk to him about, then he wasn’t able to make an informed decision. If I had told him, he might have talked to me.”
“He could’ve asked you what you wanted to talk to him about, but he didn’t. He basically told you to leave him alone. So, fuck him,” Jules said, then took an aggravated breath. “Seriously. How was he not the least bit curious? He should’ve known you wouldn’t want to talk to him about something not important.”
“You really wouldn’t tell him, if it was you?”
“No. Jesus H. Christ, no. And if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to throw my gimlet in your face. And then make you buy me another one.”
Paige overlooked the threat, knowing Jules would never waste alcohol. A glass of water perhaps, but not alcohol. “If I don’t tell him, I’ll always be worried he’ll find out and be blindsided and I don’t want that.”
“Fine. Then tell him. But be prepared for another shitty response.”
That night after dinner, Paige emailed David about the book.
David:
I know you didn’t want to get together and talk about Carter, but some things have changed and it’s gone beyond you not wanting to talk about it. I’ve written a book about him, which is set to be published in two months. I’m letting you know in case you’d like to read it because you’re in it, although your name has been changed. I can send you an advance copy on e-file, if you’re interested in reading it—and if you do read it and have any real objections to anything, you can let me know and we can discuss them. I’ll take them into consideration, but that doesn’t mean I will make the changes. I’ve spent several months writing this book and I’m very proud of it.
Paige
After another lengthy wait, she finally got a reply back and at the same time that it pissed her off, it also disappointed and confused her; she didn’t know this version of David.
Paige:
After thinking about this for several days, I’ve decided against reading your book, so you don’t need to send me the e-file. I trust you and have no doubt that it’s a good book. Even if I did read it, I would never ask you to change anything, so I think you should publish it as is. Thank you for thinking of me before you published it, but it wasn’t necessary. I wish you good luck.
David
When Jules read David’s response, her response rivaled the eruption of Mount Vesuvius that took out Pompeii. “I knew you shouldn’t have contacted him about the book,” she practically yelled.
“I knew it. He doesn’t want to read it? Um, he trusts you and thinks you should publish it … and wishes you good luck? Why is he being such an asshole? God, it’s like he’s been taken over by the pod people. Fuck him. I mean it. Fuck him.”
“Please, tell me how you really feel.”
Jules, almost crackling with hate, attempted to rein it in by taking multiple deep breaths before telling Paige, “Publish. Your. Book.”
So … Paige did.
The day The Moment You Know went live on Amazon in the Kindle store, Paige and Jules went out to celebrate.
“To going live!” Jules toasted.
“To going live!” Paige repeated, feeling oddly giddy. She might not sell a single copy, but she was technically now a published author and it meant something to her.
The next day, when Paige found out she’d sold her first paperback book, Jules made her go celebrate again.
“To your first sale!” Jules toasted.
“To my first sale!” Paige said.
After taking a drink of her martini (Jules said martinis were the drink of successful people), Paige gave Jules a look and said, “It was you, wasn’t it?”
“So what if it was?” Jules shrugged. “Someone had to be first and I wanted it to be me. I expect you to sign it, by the way.”
The day her paperback sales reached fifty copies, Paige was a little shocked. It was actually doing better in Kindle Unlimited, but selling actual printed copies seemed like the bigger deal to her because they would actually take up space on someone’s bookshelf.
“Fifty copies!” she whisper-yelled to Sputnik in her apartment, fists in the air. “I know that’s not a lot, but it’s still fifty copies! Strangers are reading what I wrote. That’s so weird and really great! I have an actual following! I might actually be … trending! Can you believe it?”
Sputnik blinked at her, then left the room.
“Where are you going?” she called after him. “Your owner is trending!”
Paige read every single review, touched by the women who told her it was well written, poignant, and inspiring. There were a few that told her she was a whiner, but she ignored them, because what did they know? Nothing, that’s what.
When Paige called to tell Jules of the ‘milestone’, Jules was quick to say they were going out to celebrate. Again.
“You’re buying dinner,” Paige said.
“You’re buying drinks,” Jules countered.
Paige started to agree, then stopped. “Wait. No. I’ll spend more on drinks than you’ll spend on dinner. Let’s switch.”
“Hell no. You’re the one making bank with your book. You can afford it.”
A week later, as Paige held a paperback copy of her book in her hands, she was unable to stop the smile that overtook her face. Even though the book covered a serious topic, her joy at finally setting her voice free made her cry a little.
She had gotten four paperback copies, one for herself and three others to give away.
The first one was for Carter and on the inside cover, she wrote a fairly lengthy message.
Carter:
Note that I’m not addressing you as ‘Uncle’ Carter. In reality, you were never really an uncle.
It haunts me to think how different my life would be if you’d been a regular uncle—and not one who was a filthy, child raping, animal. You violated and defiled me, leaving me feeling unclean, polluted, and contaminated. You did things to me that made me cry and scream. Things that filled me with anger and hatred. Things that made me want to quit living.
You made me into a person I shouldn’t have been. You stole things from me—joy, confidence, innocence, sexuality, and my sense of self. In their place, you left misery, shame, despair, confusion, and a damaged soul.
If I were telling you these things in person, I don’t doubt that you would deny it all, but you know what you did to me … and I know what you did to me. And now that I’ve written and published a book, a lot of other people will, too. A lifetime of secrets are no longer being kept and I am no longer a helpless child, afraid of you.
However, you should be afraid of me. You might not know this, but in our state there is no statute of limitations on prosecuting sexual abuse of a minor—just something for you to tuck away in the back of your mind; it’s certainly something I have tucked in the back of mine.
I spent almost two years in therapy because of you. And while I’m now considered to be ‘healthy’, I’ll probably never be considered ‘healed’, because it’s thought that forgiving your abuser is the only way to fully heal yourself. So I’ll have to live with being healthy, rather than healed, because I’m not forgiving you for shit. Any forgiveness you receive will have to come from God, if He’s so inclined to give it. Now, I know you’re probably not concerned about forgiveness because you’re not a religious man and don’t believe in the existence of God … but what if you’re wrong about that?
Just something else to tuck away in the back of your mind, you sick fuck.
Paige
The second one was for Claire and her message was very brief.
Mother:
This is the truth, even if you choose to bury your head in the fucking sand.
Paige
The third copy was for David and his message actually took the longest to write.
David:
I know you said you didn’t want to read this, but I’m hoping someday you’ll change your mind. This is my story, which impacted our story, ultimately ruining it.
I wish you all the best—now and always—because you deserve it. While our time together probably wasn’t the best part of your life, please know that it was the best part of mine. More than anything, I wish things had been different.
None of it was your fault.
Love, Paige
Less than a week after mailing the books, Paige’s phone rang while she was at work. When she checked the caller ID to see that it was Claire, Paige debated sending it to voicemail. However, her curiosity won out and she accepted the call.
“Mother,” Paige greeted her, with zero inflection.
There was a long moment of silence on the other end and then, in a voice clogged with tears and anguish, Claire choked out, “You awful, awful girl. Do you know what you’ve done?”