Chapter 37
After two hours of signing books, my cramped hand and I said good night to Caroline, and I got into my car.
But all I could do was sit there and try to make sense of the betrayal radiating through me on a cellular level.
My grief felt nearly as raw as it had when Sam died, only this time it was encased in a shell of fury, the likes of which I had never known.
This time, instead of my darling girl taking form within me—the magical sprouting of fingernails and organs and limbs—my bones were white-hot burning embers throwing off sparks, threatening to burst into flames.
As I worked to recall, deconstruct, and reconstruct my interactions with Rebecca and William in all the days, months, and years after Sam’s death, I was mystified over why Rebecca had lied in the first place.
And livid that they’d both perpetuated the lie ever since, allowing it to fester like an abscess until it ruptured and threatened to take down the whole organism with it.
Lucy was sleeping in Sam’s room at Rebecca and William’s. As much as I wanted to grab her and flee, I knew that if I barged in at this late hour, I would have to face them, and I definitely wasn’t ready for that. I texted Rebecca and asked her to drop Lucy at tennis camp in the morning.
During my event, Frannie had texted our signal of three thumbs-ups to let me know she was home and safe.
Even with a hot ER doc, you can never be too careful.
I used my key to Frannie’s apartment and slipped inside, hoping not to wake her.
I didn’t want to talk. But I couldn’t sleep in the guesthouse.
Buried under a mountain of blankets on Frannie’s couch, I lay awake most of the night wondering if, without that guilt-induced narrative of Sam’s death that I’d constructed, perhaps I might have been able to attribute Sam’s death to coincidence, rather than as caused by the words I’d written.
Thanks to my work with Dr. Field, I now understood that I’d done similar things with Callie’s death and my parents’ divorce.
My fears that I was to blame for these traumas morphed into a misbelief that I had caused them, whether by words or deed.
It was easier—more black and white—to live in a world where I didn’t deserve to be happy.
What I couldn’t comprehend was that this whole damn time, Rebecca had not only known the truth, but she’d also stood by and watched as I twisted myself into emotional knots over whether I’d somehow caused Sam’s death.
And then had the temerity to question my mental health.
And then there was William. Was his kindness all these years born out of guilt because he was complicit in burying the truth?
Or was it possible he had no idea what his wife had done, too?
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Frannie was standing over me. “Thea, what are you doing here?”
I peeled open one crusted eye and peered up at her. “Sorry, I didn’t know where else to go last night.”
She clocked the pile of discarded tissues on the floor next to me. “Did something happen at your event?”
“We might need some coffee first.” I glanced longingly at her Nespresso machine.
As Frannie brewed the coffee, I stalled and asked about her date with Noah. She used words like “amazing,” “interesting,” and “thoughtful.” Words I didn’t recall Frannie ever including in a date download other than to describe the sex.
Frannie carried our mugs over to the table. “So what happened?”
I hated that what I was going to share would wipe the moony grin off her face. But I told her anyway.
“I can’t believe this! How could Rebecca lie to you—for years,” Frannie said, her voice growing louder and more agitated, “and let you think that Sam might have been upset you were pregnant? And how could William let her get away with that? What are you going to do?”
“Confront them, I guess?” I shrugged. Exhaustion had tamped down my anger. “Unless you have a better idea.”
Frannie took a long sip of coffee as she thought about it. “Sorry, I’ve got nothin’. I’ll go with you, though.”
I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Unfortunately, I think this is one journey I need to take on my own. But can I ask for a different favor before I go?”
“Of course. Anything!”
“Do you think Lucy and I could crash with you while we find a new place to live? I can’t stay in the guesthouse after what they did.”
A little smile passed across Frannie’s lips. She walked over to her entryway table and plucked a set of keys out of a bowl. “I paid your rent for August. I knew you’d be back.”
“Oh my gosh, you did? I’m paying you back every penny!” I hopped up and threw my arms around her. “You really are the best.”