CHAPTER FORTY
THE PAST
I had not slept a single second last night.
I paced the halls, the sounds of the floorboards creaking beneath my trembling feet mixed with my unsteady breaths. The old clock on the mantel ticked its steady rhythm, counting down the minutes until dawn.
Until the moment I would have to say goodbye.
Rowe was only eight.
He slept with his small hands curled beneath his chin, a faint whistle in his breath that had soothed me in quieter nights. How many nights had we spent cuddled together, his small frame pressed against mine? I used to feel shame when I co-slept with him, hating my impoverished circumstances—
Now I would do anything to be back there again, in June’s little apartment with Rowe’s toes digging into my spine. At least he was in my arms. At least I knew where he was. It used to be him and me against the world.
Now my world was a convoluted mess that I had no control over.
Oliver had made it clear: Rowe would leave this morning. If I refused, if I defied him—the punishment would be worse than anything he had done before.
I had pleaded for him one last time the day before, and all pleasantries had leached from Oliver’s eyes. He had hissed the threat to me again. I had seen it in his eyes when he said the words, the way the muscles in his jaw had jumped beneath the shadow of his stubble.
And so I told myself again and again, as I stared out into the dark, that this was the lesser evil. Sending Rowe away meant keeping him beyond Oliver’s reach, at least for a while.
But he was so little.
He needed his mommy.
When the light of morning finally filtered through the cracked curtains, I woke Rowe gently, trying to keep my voice steady. He rubbed his eyes, blinking up at me with that same soft, bewildered gaze he had the day he was born. My heart tightened.
“Mama...do I really have to go?” he asked, his voice catching in his throat.
My breath thinned. I wanted to say no, to gather him into my arms and run with him out the door, into the street, anywhere but here.
But Oliver was in the next room, listening.
And there would be no place safe enough to hide.
“You do, sweetheart,” I whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead. I cleared the lump in my throat and kept the tears back. “You have to go. But it will be an adventure. You’ll learn so many things. And I’ll be right here when you come back.”
Rowe clung to my waist, burying his face in my pajamas. I hadn’t changed into a dress. For once, Oliver hadn’t demanded it. He knew how far he had pushed me.
I held Rowe as long as I dared, then slowly got him ready. I put him in his blue-and-white uniform and combed back his hair. Rowe wasn’t his usual cheery self. I could see the anxiety in him.
At breakfast, Oliver appeared with a bright smile.
“Morning, buddy,” he said, ruffling Rowe’s hair. “Are you excited?”
I watched him, teeth clenched, stomach turning at his false cheer. Rowe hardly looked up at him as he slowly forced spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth.
“Rowe,” Oliver prompted, staring down at him sharply. “I asked you a question, bud.”
“I don’t wanna go,” Rowe huffed out. “I want to stay here. With Mama.”
Oliver glanced at me quickly. His hard eyes met mine. He dared look suspicious.
“What are you talking about? You’ve been telling me how excited you are about this all summer.”
“I changed my mind.”
I crossed my arms tightly as my chest expanded with emotion. Maybe Rowe could convince him to let him stay. At least until he was a little older—
And then what happens to you, Daisy? You die in that cabin, and he has him all to himself?
I held back a shudder.
Maybe I wouldn’t die. Maybe I could be strong enough to withstand it, but even as I thought those words, I could feel my body grow cold.
The survival part of me screamed no.
“Rowe,” I shakily said. “Sweetheart, you have to go.”
Rowe’s eyes darted to mine, and I nearly fell apart at the grief and…betrayal in his face. Oliver inched closer and rested a heavy hand on his little shoulder.
“Buddy,” he said soothingly, “I went through the same fears at your age. I promise it will get better.”
For an instant, I wondered if that was true. If Oliver truly had been terrified, begging to stay. I had never pictured Oliver as a child because that would have cast him in an innocent light.
I refused to allow that thought in.
Rowe shut down, saying nothing until Oliver took his mug of coffee and left the kitchen. Within seconds, I heard him speaking on the phone to someone at the university.
Business as usual for him.
The second he left, Rowe’s eyes found mine again. He didn’t speak, but our gazes locked for a long stretch of time.
I wanted to say so much to him, but the words never found their way out of my mouth.
Shame burned my cheeks because I had put us here in time. This was my fault. I didn’t want him to know there were cracks, but the way he watched me right then made me feel like he was more in tune with me than I thought.
I put away his bowl and led him to the entryway, where his bags were already packed by the door.
“The drive is supposed to be fun,” I told him, even though he already knew. “They’re going to stop halfway at the aquarium for a bite to eat. Keep an eye on a seahorse for me, will you?”
The way he continued to watch me unnerved me. I looked away from Rowe and out the window to see if the shuttle bus was there.
“I had a dream,” he said suddenly.
“What sort of dream?”
“You were trapped.”
My face whipped in his direction. I held my breath, watching his serious face grow curious.
“I was trapped where?”
“It was a dark place, and I kept telling you to get out, but you wouldn’t listen.” He frowned, looking down at his white shoes. “You kept ignoring us.”
“Us?”
He nodded. “Aunt June was there.”
My eyes pricked with tears. I looked away again, trying to collect myself. Just her name made my knees almost buckle. Pain twisted in my chest as I tightly replied, “Where were both of you?”
I felt his eyes on me.
“We were in the light.”
I quickly brushed a tear away, inhaling deeply as I considered his words. He was dreaming of June because it was a way to process his grief. I told myself this in that moment. He missed her. We both did.
But—
I opened my mouth to respond when the honk sounded from outside. Glancing out, I saw the shuttle bus parked in front of the house, waiting.
I wanted to watch it leave. My gut told me this was all wrong. I could not be without my boy.
It was too hard.
“Can’t keep them waiting, buddy,” Oliver breezed into the room behind us. “You’re all ready?”
I couldn’t look at him. Not without showing vitriol.
“I’m ready,” Rowe declared.
He took my hand, squeezing tightly as Oliver opened the door and collected the bags from the room. There was already an attendant at the door to help. Oliver exchanged some cheerful words with the young man as they divided the bags and walked them down to the small white-and-green bus.
I smoothed Rowe’s hair, kissed his temple, and led him out the door on shaking legs. Every step felt heavier than the last.
I wanted to tell him how much I would miss him, how much I loved him, but again, the words were trapped in my throat, weighed down by sadness. I didn’t want him to see me crumble. I had to be strong for him.
He would be all right, I consoled myself.
He would have so much fun there. There was a lot to do at the private school that would benefit him.
He’d swim, row boats, join the soccer team, and be part of a slew of extracurriculars that weren’t available right there.
This school guaranteed entry into the best universities.
Rowe would have the best chance at life.
I just wished he didn’t have to leave me now.
Just another year...
They loaded his things quickly. The process was faster than I thought. By the time we got to the bus, he was ready to board.
I knelt and took his small, pale face into my hands. Stared into his hazel eyes. Saw June in them.
I tried to smile at him, but my lips didn’t work. I took him in for a hug instead, burying my face into his small shoulder and squeezing him to me tightly.
“I love you,” I choked out. “I’ll see you.”
“I love you, Mommy,” he replied quietly.
I didn’t let him go straightaway. I felt Oliver’s presence closing in on me. I ignored him, closing my eyes tightly to savor Rowe’s touch.
“Daisy,” Oliver said warmly, but I knew there was a hidden edge in his voice. “Can’t keep them waiting, sweetheart.”
I let him go, and my body wanted to riot.
I stood slowly, watching Oliver take his hand next and lead him past the gate and to the bus. This wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right.
I inched closer to the gate. Oliver knelt before Rowe to speak to him. Whatever he said made Rowe nod once.
To my surprise, Oliver hugged him, and once more, my body protested this.
I didn’t want him to touch my son.
Didn’t want him near him—
Maybe this was going to save my boy in the long run.
Rowe looked at me once before he climbed the steps of the bus. The attendant was there to guide him.
I shook horribly as the bus door folded shut with a hiss, swallowing my little boy inside.
His small face appeared in the window, pale and uncertain. His gaze was back on mine, and his lips moved. I didn’t know what he said.
He pressed his hand against the glass.
I forced myself to smile and wave, but I was hollow.
All too quickly, the bus drove away, but I still didn’t budge from the gate.
On the way inside, Oliver paused by the gate.
“Five minutes,” he said. “It’s not a good look to be out here longer than that.”
My eyes remained distant on the road the bus had disappeared down, but I stiffened a nod to let him know I had heard him.
When he disappeared, I wrapped a hand around the bar of the gate and pressed my face against the cool metal.
“We were in the light.”
I sucked in a breath, held it, and then let it out slowly.
Not for the first time, I whispered, “I’m sorry, June.”
Oliver was already at the table when I returned, reading an article on his laptop, acting as though he hadn’t stolen the only thing in my world that mattered.
The hours crawled by. I tried to clean, to busy my hands, but everything I touched slipped through my fingers.
The house felt empty.
Cold.
Sad.
In the pit of my stomach, a sickening weight pressed down, making it hard to breathe. Again and again, I reminded myself that at least Rowe was away from Oliver.
At least he was safe.
The knock came at the door just past noon.
I had been in my nook area, about to reread The Republic, when the persistent knocking broke through the air, interrupting my mindless reading. I set Plato back on the shelf and went to answer.
Oliver had beaten me to it.
As I descended the stairs, my steps slowed. The door was wide open. Oliver was standing before someone who made my blood drain.
A man in uniform stood on the porch, his hat in his hands, his face grave.
Oliver took the news first, his voice rising in confusion and irritation.
“What did you just say?”
I stopped.
Blood whooshed in my ears.
I began to shake.
I didn’t hear the words, not really. Only the ones that mattered reached my ears.
Crash.
Shuttle bus.
No survivors.
The world went silent.
The walls folded inward, the air sucked out of the room. I fell to my knees at the bottom of the steps, a ragged scream tearing its way from my throat.
Oliver said something, something sharp and full of grief, but I couldn’t hear him anymore.
All I could see was Rowe’s face in the window, pressed against the glass, his hand reaching for me one last time.