But when Ryan showed signs of physical abuse a second time, Caden confronted him. Ryan denied it had anything to do with Coach Woodson, but Caden put two and two together and sent a text message to Ryan’s mother, who had immediately called the police.
Once Ryan was questioned, it turned out that he had willingly entered into a secret relationship with the coach several months back. He said at first things were good, because the coach paid a lot of attention to him and made him feel special. He admitted that he initially liked, encouraged, and reciprocated some of the physical attention. But then the coach’s desires had been more than Ryan was ready for, and the physical assaults had started. He’d been afraid to tell anyone because he said he loved Coach Woodson and felt he “deserved” the abuse because he’d “led him on.”
We hadn’t known any of it. Not one single bit of it. I hadn’t even noticed a change in Caden, not the way Chloe had. I had only noticed that Ryan hadn’t been around as much after she mentioned it. Caden hadn’t said anything about him and Ryan having troubles or of his suspicions about his coach.
I couldn’t imagine anyone hurting a boy as sweet as Ryan. I couldn’t fathom the grief his mother must be feeling. I imagined her guilt, her anger. Caden had only been a bystander, and I was already filling with a rage so scorching and bitter it choked me.
My son’s face when he spoke with the social worker nearly shattered me. My innocent boy had been violated - not physically, but emotionally. He respected and trusted his coach. He loved his friend. Six months ago he wouldn’t have even suspected his coach of abusing Ryan, I was sure of it.
Caden’s first experience with the world’s cruelty was so brutal that watching the effects of it made me frenzied with fury. I wanted someone to pay for it. I wanted someone to suffer for that violation. I was bursting at the seams with a desperate thirst for retribution. Finding out he’d been a witness to something so terrible made me angry. But realizing he’d made a conscious decision not to tell me broke my heart.
The dark makes it better. The dark makes it bearable. I tell myself I should do some relaxation poses so my neck doesn’t ache later, but I am so tightly wound that I can’t bring myself to move. I try to name my feelings so I can acknowledge them and tuck them away, just like Dr. Gaul taught me. Anger. Sadness. Fear.
When Grady comes in from his run with Ares, I’m irritated. He should be in here with me, suffering in the dark, wondering how he missed the signs, just like I did. He should be laid bare as I am. Instead, he’s going on about his day as if we didn’t just have our world shattered. And it’s his nonchalance when he comes in the bedroom, says, “Hey,” and bends to kiss me that sends me over the edge.
* * * *
“What are you doing?” I demand when he starts peeling off his sweaty clothes.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He looks at me, honestly confused. “I just finished my run and I’m sweaty. I’m hopping in the shower.”
“So that’s it?”
“Sorry?” His arm freezes, the shirt he was about to toss into the hamper clutched in his hand, and he turns and stares at me.
“You’re hopping in the shower and that’s it?”
“What’s going on, Cass?” He tosses the shirt and steps out of his shorts, his gaze never leaving me.
“What’s going on? Are you kidding me right now?”
He stalks toward me. “Talk to me.”
I curl into myself on the bed, avoiding his touch. He pauses next to me but doesn’t push it.
“I shouldn’t have to talk to you. You should know what you’re doing. Grady, what the fuck?”
And that’s what makes him reach the end of his patience. “What the fuck is right! I literally have no idea what you’re pissed about right now. I went for a run, and you were fine. I come back, and you’re acting like a bitch. I have zero idea why.”
“Now you’re calling me a bitch? Our son is involved in a sex abuse case! He’s going to have to testify against his coach about his best friend! How is it you’re not grasping the seriousness of what’s going on here, Grady?”
“Cass.” His voice is measured. “I get that you’re upset, and I know this whole day has been a shock for you. It hasn’t been a picnic for any of us. So I’m going to get in the shower now, and when I come back out, we can discuss this like adults.”
He shuts the bathroom door behind him and I hear the hiss of the water, the muffled swoosh of the shower curtain being tugged aside. Yesterday I would’ve climbed in with him, wrapped my arms around his naked, wet flesh, licked the salt from his throat. But right now I could murder him with my bare hands.
When he emerges from the shower fifteen minutes later, I’m in exactly the same spot, but my rage has multiplied exponentially. I can’t even name the parts of my fury anymore. His expectant gaze meets mine, and I can tell he’s trying to gauge my mood.
“What?” I snap.
“Do you think you can tell me what’s wrong without biting my head off?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you. You should know.”
“Do you remember what Dr. Gaul said about that?”
“Fuck Dr. Gaul right now!” I cry. “Dr. Gaul doesn’t have a son who just went through something horrible alone!”
“But I do. And right now you’re acting as if this is only happening to you. It’s happening to all of us. Its a shock. Caden is going to be fine. It’s just a hurdle for us to jump, and if we hold on to each other, we can make it to the other side. We’ve faced tougher stuff than this.”
He’s too fucking calm, and I can’t take it. “Why isn’t this bothering you as much as it’s bothering me?” I sob. “Why are you so fucking calm about everything!” I shriek the last word and he looks at me like I’ve completely gone off the deep end.
He holds up his hands. “I’m going to go out there with the kids. You take as much time as you need, but Caden cannot see you like this. He’s got enough guilt as it is. Don’t let him see what this is doing to you, Cass. In a few hours you’ll have better perspective on all of it.”
“I should’ve seen it. We both should have. I’m so fucking stupid.” And despite the scalding lava burning its way through my veins, my body feels ice-cold when I say to Grady, “I can’t do this with you anymore. Us being together, trying to be together, whatever, it’s screwing me up. It’s making my head spin. I can’t. I can’t. I’m losing focus. I should be paying attention to my kids, and instead I’ve been hung up on sex.”
“That’s an oversimplification of our relationship,” he says gravely. “Sex? Is that what we’re calling it? We were married once. We’re trying to rebuild our family. We’re not fuck-buddies. Jesus, Cass.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Cassie, come on. Baby.” I squeeze my eyes shut when I realize he’s walking toward me. The bed dips under his weight and when his hand wraps around my calf I pull it away.
“Grady, I. Can’t.”
“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” Grady says, and his voice is eerily calm. “You think us being together has somehow made you a neglectful mother. You somehow believe that having two parents in the house with our kids is screwing them up? Am I missing something here?”
“You obviously are!” I cry. “And so am I! We both missed what was happening with Caden. Even Chloe saw what was going on, but we both missed it! I’m screwing up, and I can’t do that to my kids, Grady. I can’t.”
“We didn’t miss it because we’re bad parents. We missed it because kids hide stuff. Caden hid it from us, Cassie. You think he’s still a baby, but he’s almost a man.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. No, he’s not. He’s a boy. He’s a little boy. He shouldn’t have had to deal with this.”
“Agreed, he shouldn’t have, but he did. And he’s closer to being a man than you want to admit. Boys may not be able to keep things from their mothers, but men can hide a lot of stuff.”
“Don’t I know that,” I snap. “I think I
’m more than aware of all the things men can hide from the women in their lives.”
His sigh turns to a groan as he stands and scrubs his face with both hands. “You’re doing it again, Cassie. For fuck’s sake!” Finally, a real reaction. He’s angry now, and something inside me is downright gleeful. I want this fight. “There’s only so much I’m going to let you kick me in the balls for something you already said you forgive me for. You either do or you don’t.”
“All I know is, this isn’t working. We tried. We really tried, and at least we can work together better now, but this isn’t… this can’t—”
“Those are bullshit excuses for pushing me away,” he fumes. “Fuck, Cass! This is all your old insecurities rearing their ugly heads right now, making you think crazy shit. You’re under a lot of stress, I get that, and I know you blame yourself for not realizing what was happening with Caden. But this?” He flings out a hand at me. “This is old bullshit, back in full effect. Jesus Christ.”
“You’re wrong. This is different.”
“The fuck it is.” He stands, hands on his hips, fury all over his face.
“He’s my son,” I plead.
“He’s our son. And I’m your husband.”
“Ex-husband.” The clarification slips off my tongue before I can call it back and reverse the effects of the damage. He recoils as if he’s been slapped.
In the next few seconds that follow, I’m aware of nothing but the hammering sound of my heart, my brain screaming at me to shut the fuck up, and his wounded eyes. My fury has vanished, and all I can register is the shock and sadness on Grady’s face.
He takes a step back and stands. “Goddamn it, Cass.” His voice is quiet, though it’s shaking with anger. “I’ve turned myself inside out trying to prove to you that I’m the man I say I am. If you’re trying to get back at me by hurting me now as much as I hurt you back then, congratulations. Mission accomplished.”
I should take it back, but I can’t. I’m seized by his disappointment, my shame, the icy calm that takes over my limbs, freezing me to the spot when he strides across the room. Shaking his head, he starts pulling on clothes. I watch in silence as he steps into his jeans and tugs a shirt over his head.
“I’m done,” he says. “I’m going to say goodbye to the kids. I’m going to take Ares home, and on Tuesday when you’re back to work, I’ll come and clear out my stuff.”
“Wait, Grady—”
But he doesn’t even turn to look at me. He wrenches open the bedroom door with barely contained rage, and closes it firmly behind him. A few minutes later, I emerge from my room like a shadow, but I don’t follow him into the living room when he goes to say goodbye to the kids. I make myself a cup of decaf with shaking hands and try to get myself under control.
Through the voice in my head telling me that I am the biggest bitch who ever lived I hear the front door close and the deadbolt engage. Even when he can’t stand to look at me, he wants me safe, and that fact more than anything else brings the tears in a torrent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Cassie
“Why did Daddy leave?” Chloe asks cautiously when I’m setting the table that night for the three of us. There’s no way in hell I can eat, but I’ve managed to throw some pasta together to keep up appearances. I kept hoping Grady would come back, but so far he hasn’t even sent me a text message. I wonder what he’ll say to the kids.
“He had some things to do back at the other house,” I lie, and she doesn’t even pretend to believe me.
“So you guys had a fight?”
“Jesus, Chloe, leave it!” I slam the serving dish on the table and whirl to face her. “Can we just eat our dinner without commentary from you?”
My anger startles her, but only for a second. Her eyes narrow. “Caden needs Daddy here.”
“Then Caden can call Daddy himself. Dinner’s ready, tell your brother.”
We eat in total silence, everyone picking at their food. The kids have absorbed my mood, which makes me feel even worse. It was a horrible morning, but they were moving past it. They’d been watching movies, doing some brother-sister bonding. Everything was fine until I went off the deep end.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “Everything’s going to be okay, I just…” Both Caden and Chloe stare back at me like little owls, waiting for some magical words that will turn this crappy dinner around. “He’ll be back tomorrow. The news had us both feeling pretty rough. We trusted Coach and we both feel like we should’ve known what was going on.”
“You didn’t know, Mom,” Caden says patiently. “There’s no way you would’ve known what happened unless I told you. And I didn’t want anybody to get in trouble.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I plead. “You guys can talk to me about anything, you know that.”
“Mom, no offense, but no. You would’ve called Mrs. Lewis in a heartbeat,” Chloe chimes in.
“Well, yeah.”
“I know it was my fault, what happened,” Caden says. “Not all of it, but if I had told her sooner it wouldn’t have happened like it did. But no way was I going to tell you.”
“Am I a bad mother?”
“No.” Chloe surprises me by answering first. “You’re a great mother, promise, but some things you just can’t tell your parents. It’s too awkward. I think he did the right thing telling Mrs. Lewis when he did.”
“You did, bud, that was good thinking. Is Ryan upset with you?”
Caden shrugs. “I don’t know. His mom said he was relieved it was out and everything was over. I sent him a text. Hopefully he’ll call me.”
“I’m proud of you. And I know you guys probably don’t want to tell me everything, especially when it’s awkward, but please remember that I might be able to help. I know you have to figure it out for yourselves, but just…”
“I know, Ma.” Caden seems slightly embarrassed about all the emotional talk. “It’s okay.” He gets up from the table, clears his plate and loads it in the dishwasher, and wraps his arms around my neck. He has to stoop low to hug me in the chair, and he holds me a bit too hard, but I squeeze him back with all I’ve got.
“I love you, bud.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“And I love you too, Mommy,” Chloe says, getting up from her chair and joining us. We have a tearful moment before she tells me, “Now call Daddy and tell him to get his butt back home.”
Later I try texting him again, but I still don’t get a response. Resolving to go to the house in the morning so I can apologize in person, I fall into exhausted sleep.
* * * *
I probably look like a creeper idling my car on the street outside Grady’s house. I can’t work up the nerve to pull in the driveway, even though I tossed and turned all night thinking of the things I said to him. I missed him lying in bed beside me, the comfortable warmth of him anchoring me in the morning the way it always does. I replay our argument in my head and admit that I was a horrible, deranged bitch. I was freaked out about Caden, but it’s no excuse for the way I talked to Grady.
I left home on the heels of a stern pep talk to myself to pull my head out of my ass and apologize to him. But my fingers are frozen around the steering wheel, my heart in my throat.
Chicken shit, I chastise myself. Just go tell him you’re sorry.
I can’t forget blurting out “ex-husband” like a complete bitch to the man I’ve shared a bed with for the past three months. I can’t erase the look of anguish in his eyes when I said those words. And the distress in his voice when he said my name - grief and anger. Possibly even heartbreak.
No, not possibly heartbreak. Definitely heartbreak.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It’s 10:30 a.m. and his blinds are all pulled, his little gray house closed tight against the world. His truck hunkers patiently in the driveway, and the recycling bin has been rolled out from the side of the garage to the end of the driveway, where it’s parked haphazardly behind the truck.
&n
bsp; To anyone else, this scene might look perfectly normal, but it’s not. On a sunny Saturday like this, Grady should be up and puttering. His truck is still covered with road dust and salt, and Grady is fastidious about washing his truck first thing on Saturday morning. Ares isn’t in the backyard, either, which is odd. By this time on any given day Grady has already gone for a run, eaten breakfast, and done any number of household chores and projects. Saturdays are his early and most productive days of the month. And on an unseasonably warm Saturday like today, it’s unthinkable that he wouldn’t be outside.
Even the recycling bin looks off. Grady brings it to the very edge of the driveway every week, and he would never leave it askew like that. I might, if I were in a hurry, but he’s too meticulous.
And he hasn’t answered any of my texts. I’m sure he’s still pissed off about what I said yesterday. I admit it, I was a complete jerk. What I said would’ve been a dagger to the heart had he said it to me. For all the growing up I claim to have done in the years we’ve been apart, I still have a quick temper, and sometimes I shock even myself with my sharp tongue. But the fact that he didn’t reply at all to three different texts is definitely strange. He’s never just ignored me.
Something isn’t right.
I manage to pull the car into the driveway, right next to the recycling bin, where I can make a hasty getaway if I decide to chicken out of this apology.
Or if he won’t accept my apology.
The thought is unbearable. That I might have irreparably damaged what we’ve worked so hard over the past few months with careless words said in anger… I don’t think I could live with myself. He’s been so patient with me. I’ve been flaky and flighty and reluctant, and he’s been solid as a rock.
I take a few deep breaths to steady myself and open my car door. As I swing it wide to climb out, the edge of the door knocks against the big green bin.
An overpowering wave of smells stops me in my tracks. Pungent, yeasty sweetness layered with another sharp stench emanates from the recycling bin, where some big pieces of cardboard have cracked the lid just enough to allow the odor to escape. These are smells that I know only too well from my childhood and the last few years of my marriage.
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