by Kaela Coble
But I can’t say any of that to Aaron. It would kill him, and for no reason, because Danny was never going to split the two of us up. I loved him, but not the way I love my husband, and I have to put him before Danny’s memory. So I just shrug and let Aaron think that Danny was some jerk who preyed on my weakened state to get me into bed. I decide it’s okay to keep my real feelings for Danny to myself, to keep this one thing hidden inside my heart. No slip of paper is going to destroy my marriage.
Oh, and before you all buy your ticket for the runaway rumor train, just chill. The baby is Aaron’s. I’m not about to sleep with a drug addict without using a condom. I’m not that dumb.
25
STEPH
NOW
Ally chases Aaron into the parking lot; Murphy drags Ruby off before she can storm away; Krystal, happy with the mess she’s created, practically skips back into my reception, looking over her shoulder to make sure Ruby isn’t behind her. It’s not like I wanted my best friend to get hit, and I know tomorrow I will spend at least an hour with her on the phone reassuring her that I understand why she would be angry at Murphy and that she had had too much to drink, and no, she didn’t ruin the entire wedding reception.
But just for a second, I thought maybe Krystal could have used a pop in the face. Just for a second. And seeing Ruby so scrappy and ready to fight was also kind of thrilling. She’s been so reserved since I’ve met her. Friendly, but like she was holding back. Can’t take the Chatwick out of the girl, I guess.
It’s just me and Emmett left in the lobby. “Welcome to the family, baby,” he says to me with a wink. He pulls me into a hug, kisses my forehead, and rests his chin on my skull. I love it when he does that. I hate to sound old-fashioned, but it’s nice to feel tiny and protected. I should probably be upset, both by the fact that this drama is currently gobbling up all the attention and by the subject matter itself, but I can’t seem to stop smiling. I’m married. I’m Emmett’s wife. I’m sorry for what Ruby had to go through, but other than that, the fact that his friends—my friends—have all humped each other doesn’t seem like such an insurmountable crisis, considering the things we’ve been through this year.
Furthermore, it seems my strategy to reveal just enough about Emmett worked. Looks like everyone lied about their secrets, but we’re the only ones who got away with it. I know he told Ruby the truth, so hopefully that will satisfy Danny’s requirement and we are taken care of, karmically speaking. I’m not too concerned about Ruby knowing. Out of all of them, that girl, apparently, can keep one hell of a secret.
As for the bad karma we racked up from bringing that poison into town, well, let’s just say our New Year’s resolution is to start volunteering down at the drop-in treatment clinic. We’ll never know if Danny was serious about getting sober when he asked us for a place to stay, but I (and I know Emmett too) will always be haunted by the notion that maybe we could have saved him. It was why I reacted so dramatically at Danny’s funeral. At the time, I was entirely convinced that his death was on our shoulders. Maybe by helping out at the clinic, even if it’s just bringing in food and helping check people in, we can make sure it keeps running so that people who are serious about saving themselves will always have a place to go.
I hear the countdown and kiss Emmett at the stroke of midnight. I can only hope this is the first of decades of New Year’s kisses we will share. I sigh and bury my head in my new husband’s chest, breathing him in. I don’t ever want to leave his side.
I wish it could be just the two of us for just a little longer, but the door to the hall opens and Charlene pokes her head out into the lobby. “Everything okay out here?” she asks, the strap of her dress falling down from her shoulder. Judging by the droopiness of her eyes and the emptiness of the glass in her head, I don’t think she notices.
“Yes, Charlene, everything is fine,” Emmett says.
I cross to hug her and thank her for her beautiful reading. “Danny’s poem was beautiful,” I say.
She doesn’t seem to register what I’m saying, keeping her eyes on Emmett’s. “Are the secrets all out now?”
Emmett and I look at each other, confused. “Yes,” he says cautiously.
“Oh Jesus, thank God!” she says. She reaches into her dress and pulls out a folded envelope from the depths of her bra, shoving it into Emmett’s hands. The front of it reads, in Danny’s handwriting:
Mom: Read this after everyone leaves.
Emmett looks from me to Charlene to the envelope. Charlene nods at him. “Open it.”
Emmett does as he’s told, pulling out two sheets of paper. The top one is the poem she read at the ceremony. The bottom is a letter. A new one that we haven’t seen. Emmett reads aloud:
Dear Mom,
If you followed my instructions, you know about the dirt I had on each of my “friends.” I’m sure you were disappointed in me for using you to gather them together when you didn’t know what it was for. But I had to mislead you because I was afraid if you knew my plan, you wouldn’t go through with it. I know I was a fuck-up, but I want my “friends” to remember that none of us is perfect. I want them to remember that I wasn’t just some punching bag, some depository for all their crap.
So please, consider this my first and final request I make of you. Keep on top of them. Make sure they tell the truth. I’ve included a few reminders here for you to put pressure on them if they’re not ’fessing up. And if they still don’t tell each other the truth, it will be your job to expose them to the world. Don’t think of it as mean, think of it as freeing them. After all, we’re only as sick as our secrets. If I hadn’t had to keep that secret about what happened to Roger, well, who knows how my life would have turned out.
Emmett stops reading then and just looks at Charlene. At the bottom of the page, all the secrets are listed:
Ruby had an abortion.
Murphy knew Ruby was pregnant and never told anyone.
Ally cheated on Aaron. With me. (Suck it, Aaron.)
Emmett is a drug dealer.
There are so many things I want to say but don’t. I’ll say it all later to Emmett, like how he was right about Danny being a manipulative piece of you know what. Playing on Charlene’s guilt about Roger’s death to get her to carry out this ridiculous mission? If that kid had just laid off the dope, he probably could have run the world.
“I cheated and read it before you all left, when I ran out while you all were fightin’ about what happened to Roger. I thought maybe it would say something nice that would bring me some comfort but…” She waves her hand at the letter in Emmett’s hand.
I think back to that horrible day, the strange look on Charlene’s face when she returned, the way she looked when we all lied about our secrets. She had known we were lying.
“I’m sorry,” Charlene says, biting her lip. Big, fat tears begin to slide down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have put those notes in your mailboxes. I thought about burnin’ ’em, but every time I went to do it, I just felt like Danny was watchin’ me, yellin’ at me to do what he asked. It was the last thing he asked of me… How could I not…?” She shakes her head.
“I shouldn’t have even thought about readin’ those out at your wedding… I brought that because I knew Danny wanted me to embarrass all of you, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it once I was up there… So I thought I would wait and let you have your reception, and then maybe I could call you all over again tomorrow and do it there… At least then you could keep it between you guys… I don’t know what I was thinkin’.” She bursts into tears now, and I hug her again, shooting a look at Emmett over her shoulder to indicate that he should say something comforting.
He steps forward and puts a hand on Charlene’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Charlene. Really. I know how much you loved your son.”
Charlene cries even harder, and I hug her and tell her that it’s okay. Eventually, Emmett ta
kes her from me and hugs her himself. I’m surprised he’s able to remain so calm, considering our wedding was almost ruined by this drama. Well, much earlier than it actually happened, anyway.
Emmett suggests I take Charlene to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face, but I shake my head. “I should go check on Ally,” I tell him. “Make sure she’s okay.” He nods and smiles, leading Charlene to the restrooms himself. I get the sense I’ve passed some kind of test by not throwing a fit about all this. I feel more like I’ve been hazed, and now I’m just relieved that it’s over. Emmett has that letter tucked tightly in the pocket of his tuxedo, and I imagine while Charlene fixes her makeup, Emmett will be flushing it down the toilet in the men’s room next door.
I sigh and grab my coat from the hanger, and Emmett helps me put it on. I grab Ally’s too. If Aaron ran off, she could be outside alone and need to talk, and Lord knows how long that’s going to take. As acclimated to the cold as any native Vermonter, I’m still in a strapless wedding dress, for Pete’s sake.
I push open the door of the reception hall and peer out into the darkness. “Al?” I call. No response. The parking lot is empty of people and silent except for… What is that creaking? I scan the rows of cars and find Aaron’s truck rocking back and forth, the windows all fogged up. I giggle to myself. Those two. I hope Emmett and I have as active a sex life as them when we’ve been married for five years and/or I’m pregnant with our first kid. The latter of which should happen any day now, if all goes well. I know Emmett’s going to be okay. I know it. But I’m not taking any chances.
I turn and walk back into the hall, ready to return to the festivities. I decide to go to the bathroom first, and on the way, I hear voices in the stairwell. I know I shouldn’t listen, but it could be Krystal and Ruby about to resume where they left off, and bloodshed is not exactly how I want this night to end.
“…this whole time?” It’s Ruby.
“I’m sorry, Ruby. I—” And Murphy.
“How did you know?”
“Danny.”
“But he didn’t even know until after you guys fought. I thought you never spoke after that.”
“We spoke once. He called me after he took you to your first appointment at Planned Parenthood to tell me what was happening. He convinced you to put the abortion off a few days to give me time to get down there.”
“He said that?”
“He said he didn’t care whether I stopped you or not; he just thought I should know and that I should be there.”
“But you didn’t agree? What? Too busy with your perfect, pure little girlfriend?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Don’t talk to me about what’s fair, Murphy Leblanc. Jesus, did you ever love me at all?”
Whoa. Now I really shouldn’t be listening.
“Of course I—”
“Because I don’t see how you could say you love somebody, how you could even claim to be my best friend, when you knew I was going through that and didn’t even… You didn’t even…” Her voice breaks, and I can tell she’s crying. Or struggling not to cry.
“You weren’t exactly innocent, Ruby. You made Danny swear not to tell the father of your child that you were even pregnant. Your best friend. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me yourself for ten goddamn years! How do you think it made me feel to be cut out of a decision like that? How do you think it made me feel that you wanted so little to do with me that you would do that to a life we made together, without even talking to me about it?”
“If you were so hurt by it, why did you sleep with me the day after the funeral? Why did you maul me at Ally’s Christmas party? You didn’t seem too hurt then.”
“You didn’t let me finish. I was hurt. But in the end, I knew you were making the only decision you could, given our…circumstances. I stayed away because I respected your decision to keep me out of it. I left you alone so you could do what you wanted and move on.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you, Murph. So selfless. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you got off scot-free and didn’t have to give up your little backup girlfriend,” she spits back. “I lost everything, Murphy. And what I didn’t lose, I gave away. Not just for me. It was so that you could be free to do what you wanted. I didn’t want you to be forced to stay with me if I decided to keep it, and I didn’t want you to have to go through the pain if…”
“If you decided to have an abortion.”
“Right. Only those weren’t the only two options, Murphy.”
They’re both quiet for a beat. Oh God, I think I know what’s coming, and I only wish I could see Murphy’s face. “What are you saying to me?” he asks.
“I didn’t get the abortion, Murphy.” She pauses, her voice lowering and the angry tone turning humble. “I had the baby, and I gave it up for adoption.”
Just when I thought it was over, I find out Murphy Leblanc is a father. Just as I think I’m about to pass out, the lobby door swings open, and my mother tells me it’s the last dance. My feet are heavy as lead as I walk away from the stairwell, where a bomb the size of Canada has just dropped on Emmett’s best man. I let Mom lead me to my husband, whose tie is now wrapped around his head, and join him to enjoy the last few minutes of our wedding.
26
RUBY
BACK THEN—FRESHMAN YEAR, NYU
“That’s it, honey, you can do it. Push! Push!”
The nurse props me up, her small frame almost completely wedged between myself and the inclined bed. A vague worry that I will crush this nice woman floats around somewhere in a distant part of my brain that can still think about things other than my own pain. She was assigned to me when I came in without the standard-issue clueless male to hold my hand and curse at for doing this to me in the first place. She wipes the hair off my forehead, slick with sweat from eight hard hours of labor. The epidural wore off around hour four.
I don’t know the nurse’s name. I’m sure she told me, but I blocked it out, along with the million other details of this day. Less to try to erase from my memory later. I allow her to wipe my brow, rub my shoulders, feed me ice chips. I allow her to take care of me like I haven’t been taken care of in a long time. Every time she touches me, I stifle a cry until the pain comes again, so I have an excuse to let it out. It’s not just the baby ripping through my body; it’s my heart.
When at last the baby is born, the doctor, whose name I also pointedly ignore, asks me if I’m sure I don’t want to know the sex, if I’m sure I don’t want to hold the baby. I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks like the rain that streaks the windowpane I have now rolled over to face. I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t see anything. The baby cries, and a pain like I’ve never felt before rips through my body. I want nothing more than to know the sex of the life I’ve carried inside me for the better part of a year. I want nothing more than to hold that life in my arms.
“Get it out of here,” I whisper instead. They move quickly and exit the room, but I continue to whimper, “Get it out of here.”
The nurse stays behind. I want her to leave so I can cry the way I need to. Loudly, ferociously. But I don’t want her to leave me either. I can’t be alone so suddenly after having a little partner attached to me for nine months. She stays and “cleans me up,” as she says. No matter what she does, I still feel inhuman. I can’t believe billions of women have gone through this voluntarily, most of them more than once.
“You must think I’m a monster,” I say to the ceiling, afraid to meet her kind eyes. “I just couldn’t—”
“Oh, honey, no.” She walks up next to the bed and lays a reassuring hand on my arm. “Some people want to hold them for closure’s sake. Some people think it will just make it harder. Nobody’s judging you, because either way, what you’ve done says more about the kind of person you are than anything that comes after.”
I try t
o smile, to show her that what she says has helped me. But it hasn’t, and I can’t.
“Are you sure there isn’t anyone I can call for you?” she asks.
“The adoptive parents…”
“They’re already here,” she says. “Do you want to see them?”
I shake my head. I chose them from a binder full of desperate barren couples, all smiling at me, their blurbs all trying to convince me they would be the perfect family for my child. Lucy and Michelle run a bookstore in Delaware. They found each other later in life and opted to adopt rather than shoot themselves up with hormones and sperm. I liked the idea of my child hiding in bookstacks and living in a small state. I made sure the adoption agency told them about the history of mental illness in my family. They were okay with it, so I was okay with them.
But I was very specific when we set up the terms for the adoption. I allowed them to pay my medical expenses so I wouldn’t have to go through my parents’ insurance. I allowed them to come to some of the doctor’s appointments. But once I had the baby, I didn’t want any contact. They asked for an amendment. They would have to tell the kid that he or she was adopted. (With two moms, he would be asked questions, and they didn’t want to outright lie.)
They agreed to keep my identity private, but if he decides at any point that he wants a relationship, they’ll contact the agency and the agency will contact me. If I change my mind and want to have (limited) contact, all I have to do is reach out to the agency myself. Ultimately, it’s my decision whether to open the adoption back up. I’m already dreading the day when I will have to make that decision. Or worse, if I don’t have to make it because he doesn’t want to know me. Neither scenario feels right, and yet I know underneath all the pain that I’m making the right decision.
“Anyone else I can call for you? Your family?”
