The Gritty Truth

by Melissa Foster

  She lifted her eyes to his, the fear in them warring with empathy and something bigger he didn’t want to try to name.

  “I know this is hard to hear,” he said vehemently. “But I want, and need, to be honest with you, because if you decide to give us a chance, you should know these things.”

  He explained how overcoming addiction was a process of learning to accept responsibility for his actions, learning to manage the addiction, to identify and avoid triggers, and find other means for dealing with stress and the triggers that can’t be avoided.

  “I was a kid with no direction when I got sucked into drugs. I’m not that kid anymore, Roni. As much as I love Truman, I no longer need to fall in line and follow his lead. I’ve hit rock bottom. I’ve gone through rehab and therapy. I’ve dealt with the guilt and the shame of my actions, and every day I do the work needed to stay clean. Killing that man and allowing Truman to take the fall was the catalyst to my undoing. He took the blame with the best of intentions, and he was willing to hold our secret forever, but I couldn’t do that to him. Remember when I said Truman had been afraid of one thing and I’d get to it later?”

  She nodded.

  “He was terrified he’d lose the kids. Kennedy and Lincoln didn’t have birth certificates. When he had them checked out by one of Bones’s friends, a pediatrician, the doctor made an educated guess at their ages. We say they’re three and five because they needed dates to celebrate birthdays, and Tru used the date he found them. But they’re probably closer to two and a half and four and a half right now. Time didn’t exist back then. I can’t remember exactly when they were born.”

  She shifted on the couch, and he knew how hard this was for her to hear. He gave her a moment before saying, “While I was in rehab, Tru asked me to apply for guardianship because he thought he wouldn’t get approved with his criminal record. The record he had for a crime he didn’t commit. I’d been clean for a few weeks by then, and I could see things more clearly—the family I had, the friends I wanted, the life I hoped for—was all right there for the taking. But I knew that if I allowed Truman to live the rest of his life under the shadow of my crime, I’d end up unable to look in the mirror again, and that could send me right back into the life I’d finally gotten out of. So a month after entering rehab, I checked myself out. I confessed to Gemma first, because she thought my brother was a killer, and he didn’t deserve that lie hanging over their relationship. Then I went to the police and told them everything.”

  He paused, remembering how nervous he’d been. “I was sure I’d go to prison, and that would have been okay with me, as long as the kids were safe and Tru had a clean slate. But with the help of Gemma’s stepfather, who’s an attorney, the court granted Truman post-conviction relief and vacated his sentence, and he was awarded guardianship of the kids. He and Gemma are raising them as their own so the kids have the love and stability that we never did. The state could have put us both on trial, but the prosecutor exercised his prosecutorial discretion and declined to pursue charges. Our attorney said that my age at the time of the crime and Truman’s prison sentence factored heavily into that decision.”

  “You risked going to prison to clear his name.”

  He nodded. “Yes, but it was as much about taking responsibility and clearing my conscience, which was important for my recovery, as it was about clearing his name. I live a clean life in every way now, Roni. I don’t even lie. I’ve been tested for diseases, and thank God I’m clean. I haven’t had sex since shortly after I got out of rehab. It was only a couple of times, and yes, I used protection. But it was just sex, and it made me feel empty and bad about myself. That probably doesn’t sound very manly, but one of the things I’ve learned through recovery is to stay away from things that make me feel bad. I don’t care if people think I’m a pussy for being celibate all this time. The only thing that matters is that every day when I wake up and look in the mirror, I like the person staring back at me. And after I confessed, I put myself back into rehab and completed the ninety-day program.”

  Roni was quiet for so long, wringing her hands, Quincy was sure she was mustering the courage to say it was all too much.

  “So, you’re pretty sure you’ll stay clean?” she asked in a soft, shaky voice.

  “It’s my intention to, and I hope I will. But no matter how determined I am and how much I believe I will never fall into that hellish life again, I can’t make airtight promises. That wouldn’t be fair to you. But I can assure you that I have no reason to go back to that life, and I have more reasons than I can count to stay clean.”

  She looked down, but not before Quincy saw her lower lip trembling. He moved off the couch and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. Tears spilled down her cheeks, gutting him anew. He lowered his forehead to her hands, trying to push aside his torment enough to find the right words to say. She rested her cheek on his head, clinging to his hands, shaking with her sobs, and he went up on his knees, pulling her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.” He held her as she cried, her body shaking and quivering, her tears drawing his own. They didn’t move until she’d cried her very last tear, and then he held her longer—for both of them. Sometime later, she calmed, and he leaned back far enough to see her beautiful, red-rimmed eyes, wanting to make the promises he knew he couldn’t. Instead, he did what he had to and said, “I’m going to get out of here and give you time to figure out what you want.”

  “I’m sorry for getting so upset,” she said in a broken voice.

  “Don’t be. I know it’s terrifying.”

  “The whole thing breaks my heart. You living that way, and the kids…” She covered her face with her hands, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry, but I had to be honest with you,” he whispered, and forced himself to his feet, despite the sorrow weighing him down like concrete. The walk to the door felt like he was going to face a firing squad, though in reality, he already had.

  Chapter Eight

  MONDAY MORNING, AFTER another sleepless night, Roni headed into the studio two hours before it opened. “Broken” by Seether and Amy Lee blared through the room, where she was trying to stop the hurricane of anguish that had been storming through her all weekend. Sweat beaded her brow as she threw herself into every move, trying to obliterate visions of Quincy as a young teen following his mother into the very places Roni feared, images of the man she’d already come to care for drugged out and living in squalor, and battered and bruised when he’d tried to save the babies. Her vision blurred with tears as haunting sounds of the kids she’d already grown to care for crying echoed in her ears.

  The music silenced abruptly. “I thought I’d find you here.”

  Roni whirled around. Between the blur of tears and the torment in her heart, she couldn’t even try to cover up what she was going through. Angela’s face blanched.

  “Ohmygod. What happened?” Angela hurried over and threw her arms around Roni, breaking open the dam that had held in her sobs. “You were on cloud nine when we talked Saturday. Did Quincy do something? Is that why you avoided my calls yesterday?”

  Roni tried to talk, but all that came out were more sobs.

  “I will kill him. I swear to God—”

  Roni pushed from her arms, shaking her head and gulping air to calm herself down. “He didn’t hurt me.”

  “Then why are you crying? I haven’t seen you like this since your grandmother died. And why didn’t you take my calls yesterday?”

  Roni grabbed a towel from the table and pressed it against her eyes to dry her tears. “I couldn’t talk about it. I wasn’t ready, but I can’t dance it out, either.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. You don’t have to dance things out. Talk to me. Did something happen with Quincy?”

  Roni told her all the sordid details Quincy had shared. When she finished, her heart was lodged in her throat and she was completely depleted. She leaned back against the wall and sank to the floor. “I can�
��t stop seeing him as a kid with all that awful stuff going on around him, following Truman around because he was his everything and having to kill that guy to save his mother.” More tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “It’s horrible. Every bit of it.”

  Roni swiped at her tears. “He must have been terrified from the time he was old enough to know what fear was right up until he got clean.”

  “I can’t imagine living like that.”

  “It’s like the universe was against him from day one. I just wish…I’m just so sad, Ang.”

  Worry hovered in Angela’s eyes. “Roni, I knew you were falling hard for Quincy, but this is kind of a game changer, isn’t it? I mean drugs…? Are you thinking of seeing him again?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped, but the truth was, she did know. He’d texted her yesterday to say he’d ordered Kennedy’s and Lincoln’s jackets. Two seconds later another text had rolled in, saying that the previous text was just an excuse because he couldn’t stop thinking about her, but he didn’t want to put pressure on her. She’d physically ached when she’d read it. She was struggling, caught in the worst kind of web, trying to reconcile years of drug abuse with the incredibly stable and strong man she’d come to know.

  “Yes,” Roni finally admitted. “I think I am. I like him, Ang. I more than like him, and I know we haven’t been going out long, but all those months of texting makes it feel like we have. I don’t want to walk away, but I’m afraid. What if he goes back to using drugs?”

  “Okay, well, that’s a start.” Angela got up and paced. “Roni, you worked your butt off to get away from all of that. Do you really want to invite the possibility of drugs into your bedroom?”

  Roni looked up and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

  “I am on your side, more than you are, I think.” Angela crouched beside her, and in a calmer voice, she said, “You just told me that Quincy killed a man and that he said he can’t make any promises about never doing drugs again. How do you know he’s not unstable?”

  “He was thirteen when it happened. His mother was being raped, and he tried to get the guy off her. He saved her, Ang. Do I think he should have called the police instead? Maybe. But the way he described it, she would have been dead by the time they arrived. It’s not like he’s a serial killer or he killed for the thrill of it. He was traumatized by what he’d done. The courts didn’t even put him in jail.”

  “Okay. Fine. That was kind of heroic, but do you really want to live your life wondering if he’ll fall off the wagon?”

  “Of course not,” she said softly.

  “Then your decision should be easy.”

  “In what world? Do you remember when you and Joey first started going out? Remember what you said to me after your first date? You said you never knew you could feel so connected to another person, and you hadn’t spent months texting with him like Quincy and I have. You and Joey hadn’t even really talked until a week before you started going out.”

  “Of course I remember. I still feel that way a year later, but he didn’t pull the rug out from under me and tell me he killed someone and was a druggie for years, living in crack houses with two babies.”

  Roni put her head back and closed her eyes. “If you could have seen him Friday night with all his friends and their kids.” She met Angela’s gaze and said, “And with me, Ang. He treats me so well. When we were doing the scavenger hunt, and at the bar afterward, I felt like we’d been dating for months. It’s so easy to be with him, and I was so happy during the scavenger hunt and when we were at the bar. All those scary-looking bikers that we saw at the auction were there, and they’re not scary when you get to know them. They’re like one big family. I loved being around his friends, getting to know the people who love him—and trust me, they do love him.” And they’d loved her, too. Josie had texted Sunday morning with the information about her bachelorette/bridal shower, and while Roni had been thrilled to hear from her, it had also made her even sadder, so she hadn’t responded. “They think the world of him, and that means something because several of them have known him since Tru first met Bear when Quincy was only nine. Those bikers fight to keep our streets safe. If Quincy was a threat, he wouldn’t be around them. And his friends knew how hooked on me he’d been for all those months. He even talked to Red Whiskey, who’s like a mother to him, about wanting to see me after Gram died. It’s like we were already dating back then for both of us. And he waited until he was clean for two full years before trying to go out with me. Doesn’t that tell us something about him, too?”

  “I guess,” Angela said. “But how do you know they aren’t all recovering addicts?”

  “I don’t, but so what if they are?” Roni said softly. “Does that matter if they’re not using drugs now? I met the greatest group of girls, and they even invited me to a bachelorette party and bridal shower they’re combining into one celebration, where they’re going to be making gingerbread. Does that sound like a group of bad people to you? Quincy doesn’t drink, either, and he told me the truth about everything, knowing it could end things between us. He didn’t have to do that. He could have waited until months down the line, or even kept it to himself forever.”

  “That’s true, and I was very pro-Quincy before you told me all of this. You know that. I like that he has been there for you all these months and that he didn’t pressure you to jump into bed with him. But I’m your best friend, and I need to watch out for you and say the things you don’t want to hear.” She sat beside Roni and said, “There are a lot of guys out there. You could find someone who doesn’t have that kind of baggage, a guy who treats you just as well as Quincy does, who won’t make you wonder if he’s going to get caught up in drugs again. Someone who is hardworking and who will always be there for you. You deserve that, Roni. You deserve someone you can count on.”

  “I know I do,” Roni said softly. “But I’m not as convinced as you are that Quincy isn’t that person. I feel so much for him, and I truly believe that he’s a good person. I feel it in my bones. I know your points are valid. I’m not trying to convince myself otherwise. I’m just being honest with you. On one hand, even after hearing all of it, I’m still falling for him. And on the other hand, I’m terrified of what that could mean. I’m so confused right now. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re not sweeping the reality of what recovery means under the carpet. From what I’ve heard, and it sounds like from what he told you, it’s a forever thing.”

  “He drilled that, and the fact that he can’t promise me anything, into my head. Even if he wanted to promise, you and I both know that there are no guarantees in life. Look at what happened to me. My life changed in an instant.”

  Angela took her hand and said, “It sounds like his did, too.”

  “Does it really sound that way to you?” Roni sighed. “I guess that makes sense. You grew up here in Peaceful Harbor, with a big backyard and friends in all the surrounding houses, and two parents who went to work from nine to five and loved you with everything they had. You’ve never had to run home from a bus stop out of fear or heard gunshots outside and wondered if they’d make their way into your home. To me, it sounded like Quincy’s life was a ticking time bomb. When he told me about his childhood, it broke my heart. I don’t know how he and Truman stayed out of trouble for all those years. I had my grandmother telling me who to stay away from, but they had no adults to guide them.”

  “Clearly Truman focused on keeping his little brother alive, and as they grew up, they had each other.”

  “Until they didn’t,” Roni said sadly.

  Angela put her arm around Roni and said, “I will support whatever you decide. Just promise me that you won’t sell yourself short.”

  “The funny thing is, I feel like I was selling myself short until I let him into my life.”

  RONI MOVED THROUGH the afternoon vacillating between wanting to text Quincy and not wanting to open that door until she u
nderstood what it really meant to be in recovery. She’d skipped lunch and gone up to her apartment, where she’d googled everything she could think of on the topics of drug addiction, recovery, and the percentage of people who relapsed. Just reading about the process of recovery had made her anxious. She took solace in the fact that Quincy had actually made it through to the other side. But that didn’t mean Angela’s worries weren’t pecking at that solace like crows at roadkill all freaking day.

  Elisa peeked into Roni’s classroom, looking as regal as ever in a sharp navy peacoat buttoned all the way up. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her makeup perfectly applied over high cheekbones and thin lips. A royal-blue scarf circled her long neck, giving her a splash of youthfulness. “Before I leave for the day, is there anything you want to tell me?”

  Roni’s stomach clenched. She knew she’d been quiet, but she’d thought she’d done a good job of hiding her anguish.

  Before she could think of a response, Elisa said, “Like you changed your mind about the Winter Showcase?”

  Relief washed over her. “I don’t think so, Elisa. I’m sorry. I’m not ready for that.”

  Elisa walked into the room. Even at sixty-nine she still danced every day, which kept her tall frame strong and lean. She put her arm around Roni, speaking in a soft, maternal tone. “When are you going to stop comparing yourself to what you used to be capable of and start seeing the beauty in what you are capable of now?”

  They’d had this conversation every few months since Roni’s accident, and this was the first time Roni really heard it. But it wasn’t dance she was thinking of. It was Quincy, and there was beauty in the very capable man he’d become.

  Elisa was looking at her expectantly, but Roni didn’t want to get into a big discussion twenty minutes before her next class—the class Kennedy was in. Roni was still trying to wrap her head around all that Quincy had told her, including the fact that Kennedy and Lincoln were his siblings. She’d been trying not to think about whether he would pick up Kennedy after class today. Roni went for levity and said, “I do see the beauty in what I’m doing now. I love teaching.”