Secrets & Lies

by Mia Ford

  “I’m sorry to do this to you,” I say.

  “No, it’s alright,” Alicia says, sounding more awake now. “I can’t remember the last time you took a sick day, so you’re probably overdue. I guess you’re just unlucky this time.”

  I think of the message I woke up to.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  Unlucky, indeed.

  I hang up after exchanging farewells and then I send a message to Allison.

  “Can you please take Owen to daycare for me? Thanks x”

  She doesn’t reply. I don’t expect her to; it’s too early. She’s going to question me later, I know, but I hope she holds off until much later. I can’t bear questions right now, and I have a feeling she’ll show up to break down my door if I ignore her again.

  I feel weak. I should be getting up to move around and live my day. Nothing has changed. We went on a date. We had sex. It obviously didn’t work out the way that I’d hoped, but I’d known that was a possibility. In some ways I even expected this. I knew it was coming. I knew that Grant still wasn’t happy.

  Expecting it and having it actually happen, though? Those are two very different things, aren’t they? I snuggle down into my covers. It’s too early for this. I can’t even imagine what time Grant must have left to be gone when I woke.

  Maybe some more sleep will help. At the very least, I won’t have to think about this for a little while longer.

  When I wake up again, this time at a more respectable hour, it doesn’t feel any better. My heart is still heavy and I still don’t feel like doing anything other than curling up in bed. I should be at work by now, but I’m glad I made the decision to stay home. Even if I went to work, I doubt I would have managed to do a good job.

  I remember Kyle telling me, in his own rough way, to get up and do something about all this. And I’m going to. I’m not going to give up. Even if Grant doesn’t want me as a girlfriend, he’s still the father of my child. I’m going to make some sort of relationship work with him for Owen’s sake, even if it means we only amicably chat over coffee when we pick up and drop off our son at each other’s places.

  I don’t want that. But it might be what Grant wants, and I’m not going to push him for anything else, not after everything I’ve done to him.

  I have to take a step back. It’s only right.

  I wrap my arms around my pillow and bury my face in the softness. I don’t want to think about this anymore. I just want to stay here and get my head in order.

  Then my phone vibrates.

  I already know who it is without looking. I haven’t checked my phone yet, but I won’t be surprised if this isn’t the first message Allison has sent. Can’t the woman take a hint? If I wanted to talk, I would be talking by now. I would ask her for help. But I don’t want to talk, at all.

  Still, mindful of the fact that my headstrong friend will probably do something drastic if I don’t reply soon, I roll over and snatch my phone off the bedside table. I squint at the bright light of the screen.

  To my surprise, there’s only one message waiting for me, which is very unlike Allison.

  “Dropped Owen. Want to talk?”

  I snort. I wonder if Kyle has anything to do with this. Still, I feel warm for the first time all morning as I look at that message. Allison, who can’t help but stick her nose where it doesn’t belong, is trying to give me space by actually asking first.

  This, more than anything, is what prompts me to send my reply.

  “Later?”

  She replies immediately.

  ‘I’ll come around this afternoon. Want me to pick up Owen?’

  A smile twitches at my lips.

  “Yes please.”

  “Ok. I’ll come around with Owen.”

  That will give me an entire day to myself. I can mope as much as I want, and then pull myself together in time for Jessica and Owen to arrive. I need that time more than I can say.

  “Thanks.”

  I almost put the phone down, but then I hesitate. I haven’t replied to Grant’s message yet. I look at it again.

  “Sorry. I can’t do it.”

  Simple but full of so much meaning. Tears burn in my eyes. I don’t blame Grant at all. I left him. I hurt him. It’s only natural that he’d find it so difficult to forgive me completely. Even if we did get back together, it would probably be a long, long time before he could find it in him to trust me again.

  And that’s not a good basis for a relationship.

  Grant is doing the right thing. I think we both know it, even if there’s a part of me that isn’t ready to admit it yet. I close the message down and sigh.

  Even if I know it’s the right thing, it’s still hard.

  I roll over and face my bedside table. There are two drawers in it. The first drawer is where I keep a brush, some spare cords and a few dockets that I haven’t gotten around to throwing away; small, worthless things.

  But it’s the second drawer I’m looking at. I haven’t opened it in years. I reach out and slide it open, looking at the folder full of loose-leaf papers and hastily written notes inside.

  My heart freezes. I haven’t looked at this since I left Grant. I shoved it in there and didn’t even bother packing it when Owen and I moved to this place, leaving it to collect dust inside the drawer, where I could pretend I forgot about it.

  But I never forgot about it. If I had forgotten about it, I wouldn’t have stayed away from Grant for so long.

  I don’t remember reaching out and grabbing it, feeling almost dazed as I’m lost in memories of what I’ve done. I blink and the folder is sitting, closed, in front of me.

  These are the notes that I collected three years ago. Pictures of all the newspaper articles and court notes that I saw in Grant’s small collection of damning evidence. Scrawled dot points in my own handwriting on what I had stupidly deduced. Stolen evidence and pictures of Alex’s investigative reports, including the interview with Grant’s arresting officer.

  I had them all. I had put them together three years ago and believed I knew the truth. Then, scared and paranoid, I ran.

  It’s easy to think, now, how stupid I was. But, as I stare at the folder, I remember how terrified I had been. Was my boyfriend a murderer? Everyone else seemed to think so. What would happen to me if I confronted him?

  My biggest mistake had been jumping to conclusions and not waiting for Alex to finish his investigation. If I’d waited, maybe Alex would have been able to tell me if Grant was actually guilty.

  Though, speaking of…

  Grant hasn’t told me, yet, whether he’s guilty or not. I realize this suddenly, blinking down at the folder. Yet, not once have I cared about this. Why? I’ve been throwing myself at him, begging for a second chance, but I haven’t thought about the fear that encompassed me so long ago.

  It’s because I’m finally thinking about it logically, I realize. If Grant was guilty, he would have been in jail. I never would have met him. Yet he was walking free, so he must have been found innocent in the court case.

  I’m…not scared of Grant.

  It’s strange that this thought would hit me now, after everything that’s happened so far, but it’s actually more world-shaking than it seems. I fled and hid Grant’s son from him because I was so scared. When did I stop being scared? I think it might have been before I even reunited with him, at some point when I stopped worrying that he would come after me and started wishing that he would. Then, he was right in front of me and none of the things I had been terrified of three years ago seemed to matter any more.

  I reach out to open the folder, and then pause. I don’t want to look at these things anymore. Not because it makes dread curl in my stomach, as it did when I first threw it in the drawer, but because I don’t care about any of it. Part of me thinks that I should throw it away.

  But I think I’ll show it to Grant first. He deserves to see this. Maybe it might hurt, to see the physical evidence of the investigation I did on him. But perhaps I can make th
ings right by showing him how little I care about it.

  I push it away, suddenly disgusted with it and the fear my past self felt. Then I flop down on the bed and close my eyes again. I don’t want to think about any of this anymore.

  At almost precisely five-thirty, my doorbell rings. Allison, who would have picked Owen up at five, has made good time. Sometimes it takes me an hour to get out of the daycare, what with having to chat with the other parents, catch up with the teachers and herd Owen out to the car with all his belongings. More often than not, we have to go back in two or three times to retrieve something he’s forgotten.

  I pull myself out of my chair at the table. I managed to have a shower and get dressed an hour ago. I still don’t feel like I quite belong, as though part of me is still asleep, but at least I’m on my feet and moving around.

  “Mommy!” Owen says as soon as I open the door, throwing himself at me.

  I smile. His beaming face soothes some of the hurt I can’t help but feel.

  “Hello,” I say, kissing him on the forehead. “Did you have a good time with Allison?”

  “Yeah,” Owen says. He pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper from his bag. “This is for you.”

  I look at it. There are three stick figures on it. One, the shortest one, is obviously Owen. Holding his hand, the girl stick figure with yellow hair must be me. And the tallest one…

  I stare. He’s drawn an alright approximation of Grant’s ponytail, though his black hair is comically spiky. Seeing all three figures holding hands, I feel a lump in my throat.

  God, what I wouldn’t give to allow Owen this.

  “Very nice,” I manage to say. “I’ll put it on the fridge.”

  He smiles toothily at me, pleased with himself. I straighten and turn to Allison. She smiles at me quietly, some sort of knowledge in her eyes. She isn’t a fool, after all. I wouldn’t have asked her to take Owen to daycare, or be at home, if everything had gone well.

  Then I realize I have another visitor. There’s a woman standing just behind Allison, yawning. She has a severe pixie-cut and her features are sharp and angular, her green eyes cutting straight through me as she glances at me. I’ve met this woman once before, and I try to remember her name.

  “Hayley?” I guess. “Alex’s friend?”

  “That’s me,” she says. Then she glares at me. “I’m not Alex’s friend. I hate that asshole.”

  She cringes as the swear word slips from her mouth, glancing down at Owen. I’ve just remembered how rough this woman is.

  “Sorry,” she says.

  “It’s alright,” I say with a small smile. “I’ve said worse.” I look down at my son. “That one’s a bad word, alright, Owen?”

  Owen blinks up at me.

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  I know that that isn’t going to work forever. He’s heard a few bad words from me by now. He hasn’t repeated any of them yet, but it’s really only a matter of time before he gets curious and mischievous enough to try one out.

  “Hayley dropped us off,” Allison explains. “Sorry, did I tell you that my car is in for repairs?”

  That explains Georgia’s presence the other day, too.

  “No, you didn’t, but I understand. There’s been a lot going on,” I say. “Do you both want to come in?”

  “Uh, it’s fine,” Hayley says, glancing between us. “You got some important stuff to talk about. I can hang around the stores and come back to pick Allison up.”

  “It’s fine,” I say firmly. “Come in, I’ll make you a coffee.”

  Hayley wavers and then gives in.

  “Sounds good,” she says.

  I lead the two women into my apartment. Owen is thrilled to see that both of them are staying. He seems surprisingly attached to Hayley, which is odd considering how rough and brisk she is. He grabs her hand the moment she comes in.

  “Come play, Hayley!” he begs.

  Hayley grins.

  “I’m going to beat your car in a race, little man,” she warns.

  She winks at Allison and I, and then she’s gone. Part of me is relieved; I’m not that close to Hayley, and I don’t know how much she’s aware of. Also, she can keep Owen occupied, so he doesn’t hear what Allison and I are talking about.

  “That actually worked out well,” Allison muses as I go to the kitchen.

  “Yeah,” I say with a small smile. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Allison says, leaning against the counter. She pauses. “How are you feeling?”

  “Wretched,” I admit. “But I completely understand why Grant decided he couldn’t stick around.”

  “I don’t get it. What even happened?” Allison asks, brow furrowing. “When you asked if Owen could stay the night, I thought things were going well. Now you’re telling me he left?”

  “They did go well,” I say. “But…I think Grant just couldn’t quite get over what happened. I woke up this morning and he was gone. He sent me a message, apologizing, saying that he just couldn’t do it.” I give her a wry smile. “Can you blame him?”

  Allison doesn’t reply. I know she agrees.

  “What now?” she finally asks.

  “Well…I guess we find some way to co-parent,” I say. I glance toward the living room, where Hayley is with Owen. I can hear her making loud car noises over Owen’s giggles. First Georgia and now Hayley… Knowing Allison has the potential to really expand my friend group. I’m glad for it. “I wish that I had been more rational three years ago. But I wasn’t, and now I’m paying the price.”

  I glance at Allison. To my surprise, though, she’s frowning, unimpressed.

  “You know, Kyle taught me something,” she says slowly. “I used to think like you. The ‘oh no, I’ve screwed up, woe is me’ attitude is really easy to have. But it’s a lot harder to fight for what you want.” She looks up at me. “Kyle might say it’s different, but it isn’t, not really. I hurt him pretty badly. It was a long time before Grant and Ethan could even smile at me. Admittedly, everything I did to him happened over about a week or two. But, the funny thing is, Kyle never once gave up on me. No matter how many times I pushed him away, he just kept coming back.” She lets out a short laugh. “It was a little frustrating, to be honest.”

  “I don’t think I have the right to keep fighting for Grant,” I point out. “Not after what I did to him. If he steps back…”

  “Then take two steps forward,” Allison suddenly says. She crosses her arms. “Grant was the one that asked you on the date, right? Somewhere inside him, he really does want this. He’s unsure because you did hurt him pretty bad, but there’s also a part of him that knows you’re trying to make amends. Maybe things won’t be the same ever again. Maybe it’ll be difficult for a really long time. But have you actually told him how much you love him?”

  I wince. “Well, no, because…”

  “You’re making excuses again,” Allison says suddenly. “Why do you keep making excuses? Just get up and do what you want. You only have so much time to say these things to him.”

  I stare at her. My mind is whirling. Allison leans forward, her eyes intent.

  “I understand, both your side and his,” she says. “But you can’t let it go like this, not without telling him everything. Because if you do, you’re only going to regret it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jessica

  It sounds so ridiculously easy. I almost can’t comprehend what Allison is saying to me. How could it possibly be that easy? To just say what I’m thinking, to voice all the things I haven’t wanted to say for fear of rejection? It’s terrifying.

  But slowly, as I think about it, I realize that Allison is right. If I keep letting these things go, if I don’t say what I really want to say, I will regret it. Even if I tell Grant I love him, and he tells me he can’t love me anymore, then at least I said it. It’ll hurt, but it will be out there, and we can move on from that.

  “What… What do I say to him?” I ask. I’m suddenly feeling breathles
s at the possibilities.

  “What did he say to you this morning?” Allison asks.

  “He sent a text message before I woke,” I reply, fishing my phone out and showing her the message. “He must have left pretty early.”

  “The time on this message says four,” Allison points out; I never looked at the time, too caught up in seeing the message itself. “You sent me a message around five-thirty.”

  I wince. I didn’t realize it was that early when I called Alicia. I hope my supervisor can forgive me for that.

  “Anyway, you haven’t responded to this yet?” Allison continues.

  “No… I didn’t know what to say,” I admit.

  “Then the first step is replying to this,” Allison says, holding my phone out to me. “After that, you just have to let the conversation fall naturally. Grant is probably stressing about your reply. He might think you’re mad at him.”

  Disquieted, I look down at my phone.

  “I’m not,” I say. “I don’t feel like I have the right.”

  “Well, start by telling him that you aren’t upset,” Allison suggests.

  My heart is pounding and I feel anxious all of a sudden. Is it really going to be this easy? Before I can regret it, I quickly type out a message.

  “I understand. I’m not mad. I hope we can still be friends.”

  I show the message to Allison before I send it. She frowns.

  “Is that what you really want to say?” she demands.

  “Partly,” I say quietly. “But if I tell him I love him now, I’m just going to run him off.”

  Allison chews on her bottom lip in thought before she nods, though she still looks unconvinced.

  “Whatever you think is best,” she says.

  “What’re you guys doing?” Hayley asks, coming into the kitchen. She catches my glance toward the living room. “Owen wanted to watch a movie.”

  “We’re messaging Grant,” Allison says distractedly.