table in the corner, the exact spot where I’d come out to her. “I haven’t told anyone this, except Thomas, and I only told him a few years ago, after we were married.”
“Okay.”
“I want to tell you about why I left the house.”
“I thought it was just because Mom and Dad were so suffocating,” I say, even though I feel like right now isn’t my time to talk.
“That was part of it, but there’s more.” She clasps her hands together.
“Okay … What was it?”
“So, about a month before I graduated, I was seeing this guy, and we decided to sleep together.”
“You were dating someone?” I ask her.
Hannah nods. “That’s a part of the story.”
“Oh, sorry.” I had no idea, but that was probably on purpose.
Hannah takes a long sigh, like she’s thinking of what to say next. “We were safe, used a condom and everything, but that doesn’t always work. A few weeks later when I was supposed to get my period, I didn’t.”
Fuck.
“You were …”
“No, no.” Hannah shakes her head. “Just my cycle, it was weird. I think I was syncing up with some of the other girls in my class. That’s not the point.” She takes another breath. “I thought I might be pregnant though. So, I bought a few tests, did them, all negative.”
I notice her hands are shaking.
“I thought I threw them all away. I was so careful.” Hannah shakes her head, almost like she’s talking more to herself than she is to me. “But I guess I forgot one or maybe Mom was snooping in the trash but … she found out.”
“Hannah …”
“She freaked, obviously. I told her they were all negative. That’s when she figured out I was dating Mark, the boy I’d slept with. I asked her to keep the secret from Dad, because I knew he’d blow a fuse. And she told me she would.”
Hannah swallows, and it feels like it takes forever for her to start talking again.
“Except she didn’t. She told him at some point, and he exploded. Told me I was a disappointment, that he ‘didn’t raise a whore.’ That was the only time he ever hit me, and that was the night I decided that I couldn’t be there anymore, and I figured after graduation was as nice a time as any.”
“Hannah, I didn’t—”
“I know, you didn’t know. I didn’t tell you for a reason. But that was why I left. And it hurt me for so long to know that I was leaving you with them, Ben. Part of me hoped they’d get better, or maybe they’d go easier on you.” She lets out this pitiful little chuckle, if you can even call it that. “Maybe all this is my fault. Maybe I should’ve called child services, told them where you were. But I was only eighteen, I couldn’t take care of a kid. So, I thought you’d end up in the system. And if that happened … I knew I’d never see you again.” The tears fall quickly down her face. “I’m sorry, Ben, I’m so sorry.”
“I …” I can’t move, and there are no words for what I’m feeling right now. This mix of helplessness, guilt, the betrayal, the bile rising in the back of my throat. I get up from my seat and I walk over to her, pulling my sister into the tightest hug I can manage. I don’t care if it’s hurting me, or her, I just want her to be close to me right now, and I never want to let go of her.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry.” I start sobbing, the room filled with nothing but the sound of us crying while we hold each other.
“I’m sorry, Ben.” Her arms wrap around me. “I felt like it was my fault for so long, that I left you there with them. I should’ve done more.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her. “It’s them … it’s no one’s fault but theirs.”
We pull away from each other, and for a second it’s awkward silence, but then we start laughing when we see each other. Red, puffy faces. Hannah’s makeup has run a little.
“Don’t laugh,” she says, walking over to the counter to grab some paper towels. “It’s not funny,” she says while trying to keep back another laugh.
And I can’t stop myself from giggling. “It’s pretty funny.”
But then we stop, and it’s awkward again. Hannah balls up the paper towel and eyes me, stepping a little closer. “I love you, kiddo. You’re