Empire of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,86
genuine. “I should’ve never left you at all. I’m sorry, and I’ll find a way to make it up to you…”
I stare at him, completely stunned that he gave me an apology. My heart is pounding wildly against my chest, and even though he’s rendered my body completely useless for the next several hours, my brain is begging me to hold out for a little while longer. To not take him back yet. At least, not right now.
“Take me back, Meredith,” he says, suddenly—catching me off-guard again. “Tell me that you’ll take me back, that we can start over.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t forgiven you for leaving me in Mexico yet.”
“I don’t expect you to anytime soon…” He looks at me. “I’m just asking you to take me back.”
“Are you still attempting to fly me off to Switzerland?”
“No, I would much rather have my wife back, and with me—without strings attached…” He smiles and brings my head closer to his—kissing me again. “I’m still waiting to hear her take me back, actually.”
“Are you begging or asking her?”
“I’m asking.”
“She needs you to beg…”
He stares at me, saying nothing for several seconds. Then, as if his mouth is incapable of saying the word, “please,” or if he’s above begging for anything, he ventures down an alternate route. “Meredith Anderson, it would be in your best interest to take me back. If you don’t, you’ll only be cheating yourself…”
I say nothing.
“Is in your best interest,” he repeats, looking worried that I may say no.
I smile. “That’s as good of a ‘beg’ as I’m going to get from you, isn’t it?”
“It is if you know the man you married.”
I hold back a laugh and lean against him. “I’ll consider taking you back if…”
“If what, Meredith?”
“If you give me two things.”
“Name them.”
“I want more from you,” I say. “I want you to go back to the little things you did when we were dating, but I want a little more…”
“Okay.” He kisses me. “I’ll do that. What else?”
“I want you to tell me the whole story about who you were before, how you turned out to be who you are…”
I brace for him to shut that idea down, but he doesn’t, surprisingly. He leads me out of the shower and dresses me for bed—returning the wedding ring to my finger. After dressing himself, he positions me on top of him, on the mattress, and looks into my eyes.
“Let’s start with when I was twelve…” He starts slow, finally discussing the fact that he hid his identical twin brother from me. He sits still for hours and lets down his guard, temporarily letting me hold the shield.
We remain in the bedroom for the next day and a half, with him holding me close and unraveling the years, only stopping to take bathroom breaks or wipe away my tears when he retells the worst moments. Occasionally, he makes me stop listening so I can rest, but he’s always ready to pick up right where he left off, whenever I wake up. (He still can’t sleep for more than five hours at a time, even all these years later.)
When he’s uttered the last word, I expect him to say that he never wants to talk about it again.
Instead, he pulls me close and whispers, “I’ll answer your questions tomorrow…I know you have at least twenty-one.”
“Can I ask one right now?” I say.
“Yes.”
“You said that there are two guys left on your list, one for you and one for Trevor.” I pause. “Is there a reason you’ve saved this particular guy for last?”
“Yes.” He nods, pulling me into his chest. “If it wasn’t for him, none of this would’ve ever happened to me…”
Michael
Long Before
When Someone Burned Me That Badly
I park outside the National Foster Youth Institute Center in Los Angeles, staring at the bright yellow and red statues that they’ve flown in from their former headquarters in New York. They’ve painted over the old quote that once read, “All children deserve a safe home,” and replaced it with, “Children are the world’s greatest gift.”
I can still remember the brochures that they sent to my Uncle Avery’s house, how he tossed them down to the basement for us to read. It only took me three issues to never crack open another one; the smiling kids’ faces on the pages always made me want to vomit.
Getting out of the car, I walk past the foster center, toward the row of houses down the street.
I stand under an oak tree and