“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“You didn’t. Those are my best memories, bedtime with my mom. ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ is all about feeling happy inside when he’s holding her hand or when they’re touching. My mother’s life was so boxed in and awful, I guess I was her only happiness.”
“Of course you were. You were her little boy. Her island.”
The muscles in his jaw bunched, and he shook his head. “No.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I couldn’t save her. She was always drifting at sea. She never had a chance to find an island.”
“I know you feel guilty because you think she committed suicide to give you a chance in life, but you were only a little boy.”
“It’s so much bigger than that, Chloe.”
“I don’t understand.” She touched his bracelet and said, “Did she give you this before she died?”
He shook his head. “No. Before she died, she said she was going to take a nap, so I lay down with her. I wasn’t allowed in their bed, but my father was out, and he wasn’t supposed to come home until later that night. So I took a chance. I remember seeing empty pill bottles on her nightstand, and when she was drifting off to sleep, she mumbled something about going to see her father. I thought she was dreaming because she’d told me that my grandparents were dead. When I woke up, I thought she was still sleeping, so I tiptoed into the living room and I guess I watched television or played. I don’t really remember what I did. But I remember looking out the window at some point and realizing it was nighttime. I went to wake her up because I was hungry. She was lying on her back, and when I touched her, her head rolled to the side and vomit dripped out.”
“Oh my God, Justin…” she said in a choked voice as more tragic pieces of his past came together.
“She’d thrown up in her sleep and choked on it. I remember shaking her, and at some point I must have realized she was gone. I don’t remember much about what happened next other than thinking my father was going to kill me because I’d let her fall asleep and she’d died. I don’t know what else was going through my head, but I took her necklace and hid it under my mattress. And then I hid under my blankets.”
Tears slid down Chloe’s cheeks as she imagined Justin as a terrified a little boy, having lost his mother and fearing for his own life.
“Other than a therapist I saw when I was a teenager, nobody knows I was there. Not even Preacher and Reba.”
“They don’t know?”
“No, and I want to keep it that way. My father lied and said I was out with him when she died, so it wasn’t in my file. I think he was afraid he’d get in trouble if I was there.”
“He lied? That’s awful making a kid keep a secret like that. What did he do when he came home?”
Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. Paced, cursed, told me what to say and how to act.”
“That sounds scary for a kid. But why would you want to keep that bottled up when Rob and Reba are so good to you? Were you worried they wouldn’t want to help you through all of those feelings?”
“No. Of course they’d want to help. But all that went down years before I even met them. I’ve gone through enough therapy where I did talk about this to know that more talking isn’t going to help. It’s all in the past now. It happened, and it’s over.”
She turned toward him and said, “Why did you tell me?”
“Because I don’t want secrets between us, and you wanted to know my good memories.”
“I’m glad you did, but I think your parents—Rob and Reba—deserve to know.”
“Maybe one day.”
He inhaled deeply and exhaled a long breath, as if he felt better having gotten it off his chest. She hoped he did.
“What I can’t figure out is why she fell for my father in the first place. He was a total tool.”
His voice and face were so serious, Chloe knew this was a long-torturing struggle. She had a torturous secret of her own, and while she didn’t have anything to offer to ease the guilt and pain of being present when his mother had died, her secret just might help Justin find this