Epilogue
Deja
Eighteen Months Later
Brandon crouches to pick up a handful of dirt and toss it on top of the coffin.
It’s a beautiful, ornate white casket, its lacquered top gleaming in the sunlight.
The day is bright and hot, and we’re out in the open with no shade nearby.
Sweat gleams on Rev. Billingsley’s forehead.
Brandon takes my hand, and I squeeze his fingers letting him know I’m with him.
The pastor prays and Brandon’s ten-year-old half-sister sniffles, trying to hold back her tears.
After Devin’s crimes were revealed, it took us a while to put the pieces back together.
The story Anton concocted was that Devin had run off with a portion of the stolen money.
My mother had not been able to convince their company or the police she was unaware of Devin’s crimes.
She’s serving the last few months of her sentence now.
We know she wasn’t involved with the embezzlement, but Brandon believes, and I agree, that it’s the least she deserves for letting her men abuse Lindsey.
A few months after Devin’s “disappearance,” Brandon reached out to his biological father, Brad Keane.
It was difficult and painful at first, but they’ve been steadily building a relationship.
Brandon has two younger siblings—a teenage boy who look startlingly like Brandon, and the little red-headed girl currently sniffling while holding her father’s hand.
We learned that not only had Devin told Brad that Lindsey was unfaithful, but he’d also implied that Brandon’s parentage was questionable.
Seeing Brad and Brandon together it’s patently obvious they are father and son, but I know just how convincing a liar Devin was.
The best we can figure, he did it just to be spiteful and to make sure Lindsey’s focus wasn’t divided.
Knowing why his father didn’t support him and his mom made it easier for Brandon to forgive him and move on.
I thought I was okay with everything that happened, but a few months after Devin died it all hit me so hard it knocked me over.
I didn’t get out of bed for a week and I wouldn’t let Brandon touch me.
I had to confront the horror of what had been done to me and I wondered if my kinks were just me being me or a side-effect of the abuse.
I’ve been in therapy ever since, and while I can’t say I’m completely over it, I’m no longer haunted.
It was Brandon who convinced me to go, but I’m still working on getting him to see a therapist.
Lindsey’s finally at peace. Unfortunately, knowing what caused her brain damage didn’t improve her prognosis.
She stayed in some form of hospice through the end of her life.
To pay for it, Brandon worked for Anton and when we moved to Chicago, he hooked him up with one of his associates.
Brandon goes to the University of Illinois and I’m at the University of Chicago.
I don’t ask what work he does to pay his tuition and our expenses, but we both know his business degree is going to be used within Anton’s organization.
It’s not a bad life. We share a little apartment in the city, and we’ve made friends.
Brandon has taken up martial arts and we regularly have his sweaty annoying friends in our apartment.
We throw dinner parties with people we met at school, and we try to focus on what we have and the good things in our life and not all the awful stuff that’s happened to us.
Brandon’s told me a couple of times that he wants us to get married once we graduate, but I’m in no rush.
It will happen when the time is right. Until then, and for the rest of our lives, we have each other.