Sins

by Lee, Nadia

  “Sure,” I say.

  “There’s a piano quintet performance this Saturday evening at the St. Agnellus Community Center. I know it’s very short notice, but their pianist is sick and won’t be able to perform. It would mean a lot to them if you could fill in. They’re playing Dvořák’s Piano Quintet in A major.”

  I start to say okay, then remember the trip with Tony. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I can’t help this time. Sorry.”

  Aunt Margot’s face goes still like a marble mask, and somehow it’s scarier than overt disappointment or anger.

  “Surely you can learn the piece in the next couple of days,” she says finally.

  “That isn’t the problem. I’ve actually already preformed it. It’s just that…” I take a deep breath. She’s going to know soon enough, so I might as well tell her. “I’m going to be out of town this weekend.”

  “You are?” Two delicate eyebrows arch over rapidly cooling eyes. “I had no idea.”

  “Tony and I are going to visit his friend.”

  “Tony.” She says the name like it’s some kind of curse. “Is he the one who gave you that pendant?”

  Unconsciously, I run my fingers over the gorgeous medallion. It’s warm from my body heat. “Yes. He designed it himself. One of a kind.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I suppose that explains the smile on his face when he was leaving for the gym.” Her voice makes me tense. I don’t like the weird, hateful undertone.

  “He’s happy. Why do you make it sound like that’s a bad thing?” I ask, genuinely confused and wanting to get to the bottom of this horrible enmity.

  “Because I’d rather have him suffer the way I do.”

  I inhale sharply. Aunt Margot’s voice is so brittle and hateful. “He’s your son.”

  “And? I have two other sons, both of whom are perfectly happy.”

  “How can you say that? Why do you hate Tony so much?”

  Her eyes glitter like sapphire and emerald. “He killed my Katherine.”

  “It wasn’t his fault!” I fling an arm out, slashing the space between us. “It was an accident. A hunter made a mistake. How can you blame Tony for that?”

  “You know nothing, Ivy. You weren’t here.”

  “No, but I read the articles about the accident. None of them even hinted he had anything to do with it. So what if he was there? How does that make it his fault?”

  “So you think he’s a poor little victim with a mean mommy?” Aunt Margot sneers.

  The expression leaves me breathless with shock. Her face is like something out of an exorcism.

  “I’m miserable because of him. Why should he be happy? Why should he know the joy of being loved?” Her eyes, cold before, are now wild. “I miscarried three times before I had Katherine. I almost died bringing her into this world, only to have a mere six years with my daughter. He should suffer as long as I do, even if he’ll never know the true depth of my grief. Losing a child is…” She swallows, her knuckles white.

  Her pain is so stark and raw that it’s as though the accident happened yesterday. I ache for Aunt Margot. I’ve never experienced anything even close to losing a child, and can’t even fathom what it’s like. But clinging to that old pain is hurting Tony, who doesn’t deserve it. “Aunt Margot…you have to let it go. Katherine’s gone, and Tony’s suffered so much.”

  She raises her face and gives me a cruel sneer. “You’re awfully sure for a girl who wasn’t even there.”

  I hold firm. He was only twelve when it happened. Even if he pulled the trigger himself, it was an accident, not something he should still be paying for now. “You’re deliberately being cruel because you can’t get over Katherine’s death and need to blame someone…even if it’s your own son.”

  Aunt Margot’s face is at once pale and terrible, rage erupting in her eyes. If her gaze were tangible, I’d be cut to pieces.

  Apprehension dries my mouth. My palms go damp with cold sweat, but I keep my chin up.

  “You’ve never, ever spoken to me this way, young lady. But you did just now…and not for yourself, but for him.” Surprise and anger lace her hard tone.

  “I’ve seen how he torments himself.”

  Abruptly, the fury on her face vanishes. “Does he cry?”

  “What?”

  “Has he wept for my Katherine? Even once?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.” I would’ve been worried if he had after all this time. “But—”

  “Monster,” she spits. “He didn’t cry back then either. Not a single tear.”

  The fine hair on the back of my neck stands. Suddenly, I’m cold under Aunt Margot’s furious gaze. Tears start to fill her eyes, making them glow like a loss-crazed lioness’s.

  She touches her chest with a shaking hand. “He killed my baby and didn’t even cry. What kind of demon does that? What kind of monster have I raised?” Her hand turns into a white-knuckled fist as she steps closer toward me.

  My heart starts racing with fear. I move backward, but it’s no use. I soon hit the wall, and she isn’t finished.

  “I thought he was a perfect child,” she rages. “He wasn’t like other babies. He never fussed, never cried. Not like his brothers. Always smiling and happy, my perfect little prince. Lane and I thought he was an angel, the kind of child who brings blessings and happiness to a family.

  “But we were wrong. He is a monster. He came to me with his sister’s blood all over him. He was wet with her blood, but not with his tears! He just sat and stared straight ahead. The only thing he didn’t do is smile, but only because he could will himself not to smile. He couldn’t will himself to cry!”

  I can’t even move a finger. The picture she’s portraying is too horrifying, too tragic—for everyone. “Maybe Tony was in shock?” I whisper. When my parents died, I went into a stupor for a while before I could react properly. And unlike Tony, I wasn’t covered in their blood.

  “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Ivy? You think I don’t know you’ve been sleeping with him?” She points to the second floor. “And after all I’ve done for you.”

  “Tony deserves love.”

  “Is that what you tell yourself while you spread your legs for him? You don’t know what love is, Ivy. You think sex is love.” She laughs. “Sex is anything but love.

  “Katherine loved him with all her innocent heart. It might be an accident he shot her, but it sure as hell was no accident he didn’t cry!” Aunt Margot invades my personal space until the tip of her nose is almost touching mine. “Do you think he’ll shed a single tear when you die?”

  Holy shit. Her twisted hatred of Tony makes me feel sick. And sad.

  “Do you think you’re special enough to make him cry? Is that why you defend him?” she demands.

  My pulse throbs hard and fast, my scalp tight. I’ve never faced loathing like this before. It’s intense, vile; she wants to lash out because she’s hurting and wants to make sure I suffer as much as she does. I can’t believe Tony has borne it for so long without becoming twisted and broken himself.

  Finally, I manage, “Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. But I’m not going to hate him for how he chooses to react.”

  “You’re a fool, then. You mean nothing to him, just like Katherine meant nothing.” A chilling mix of disappointment, outrage and pain passes over her face. “By the time you realize how deluded you are, it’s going to be too late. You’ll have nobody standing beside you to make things right.” Her gaze unblinking, her mouth bloodless, she turns and stalks away.

  My hands start shaking. I clench them. Hard. I’ve never stood up to Aunt Margot this way, but it was the right thing to do. Even if I could rewind the last few minutes, I wouldn’t change anything.

  Chapter Twenty

  Anthony

  When I get out of the gym shower, it’s close to dinnertime. And I receive a call from Mother.

  I answer uneasily. She’s never, ever contacted me first.

  “Yes, Mother?” I say, my stomach tight.


  “Tony.” Her voice cuts like a blade. “Do you mind dining out with Ivy tonight?”

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “She and I exchanged a few words. I think it’s better if she stays away until I can decide how I’m going to process our…conversation.”

  I’m unsure exactly where this is going. What did you do, Ivy? “What do you mean?”

  “She spoke to me in a way she never has before. Obviously she’s very fond of you.”

  Fuck. Apprehension settles like a lump of old, congealed fat. I remember the way Mother treated Bolt and Edgar nine years ago. I’m no stranger to being banished from my family home, but Ivy is different.

  You should’ve been more careful. You should’ve known Ivy might say something to anger Mother over you. “I apologize for anything she said to upset you.”

  “Why? Didn’t you fill her head with rebellious ingratitude?” A short pause. “I told you to stay away from her. I told you to not take her away from me, but you did. You just can’t let me have any happiness, can you?”

  “Mother, I never—”

  “You have poisoned her against me, Tony,” Mother continues, her voice low and awful. “You pretended to be here for my sake—to earn my forgiveness—but this is what you really wanted, wasn’t it? To destroy what little I’ve salvaged? To show me what a fool I was, to think ever you were good and wonderful? You want me to send her away, too, don’t you?”

  Each syllable is an ice pick, stabbing, making me bleed inside. “There’s no reason to cut Ivy out of your life. I’ve never meant to hurt you, Mother. I’ll speak to her and—”

  “Stop pretending, you monster!” The word burns like a brand as my face heats with shame, guilt and unworthiness. “I hope you’re satisfied. You make me sick. I rue the day I had you.” She hangs up. And coming from my socially correct mother, it might as well be a backhand to the face.

  My hand clenches around the phone, my breathing rough and uneven. I never wanted Ivy to stand up to Mother on my behalf, never wanted her to cause their relationship to sour over me. I didn’t think it would happen, either, because I noticed they were avoiding each other over the last few weeks.

  Obviously, I thought wrong.

  Mother can be upset with me, but shutting Ivy out is unacceptable. She’s been filling the ragged hole I left in Mother’s life. I rake my hair. I need to figure out how to impress upon Ivy that she should never, ever say a word to defend me.

  Soon after my call with Mother ends, Ivy texts me. Wanna eat out?

  It’s like she and Mother are on the same wavelength. Just how bad was their fight?

  A small nerve behind my right eye starts to throb. Eating out is good. I’ll tell her how to juggle me and Mother over food that she likes. What are you in the mood for?

  Pizza? I’m near a place right now. Cajun Milan.

  Perfect. I remember eating there when I was little and liking it. Didn’t realize you were out and about, I text.

  Just some errands. See you soon?

  Leaving the gym right now.

  When I arrive at Cajun Milan, Ivy’s already ensconced in a booth, her hair unbound and slightly curling around her beautiful face. She gives me a heart-stoppingly beautiful smile, the kind that can make a man’s knees weak with need, launch a thousand ships…or start a war.

  I slide into the booth seat and kiss her.

  “How was the workout?” she asks, a little breathless.

  “Not bad. But now I’m starving.”

  We order pepperoni pizza and a pitcher of pink lemonade. Ivy doesn’t look upset like I half expected. Instead, she’s bubbling with barely suppressed excitement and anticipation. Did I somehow imagine the call with Mother?

  “What?” Ivy asks. “Is there something on my face?”

  “No.” I take a moment to think about how I’m going to broach the topic. “Ivy—”

  Our order arrives, interrupting me.

  I place a slice of pizza on Ivy’s plate before taking one for myself. Then wait until we’ve both had a few bites. Maybe some food in our bellies will make what I have to say go over easier. It’s harder to be angry on a full stom—

  “Guess what?” Ivy says suddenly.

  “What?”

  She pulls up a picture on her phone and slides it over to me. “My new tattoo.” She brings her left arm out from under the table and shows me the bandaged wrist. “What do you think?”

  A single tiger lily, and T and I entwined within. It’s small, delicate and beautiful, just like Ivy. Normally I would be pleasantly surprised she got such a pretty tattoo for herself. But the T creates an apprehension that settles over me like a dark, heavy cloud. At the same time, I’m overcome with emotion at the gesture. “You shouldn’t have.” My voice is unusually thick and taut.

  “Why not? It’s perfect. Exactly what I want.” She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “I know you don’t like it when I try to tell you how I feel. But it’s not fair for me to have to hold it in, while you’re always saying you love me. So I got this to show you that I love you. Every time you see it, you’ll know you’re in my heart.”

  Oh no, Ivy. No, no, no. She doesn’t understand.

  I can bear her looking at me like I’m the most amazing thing in the world. What I can’t bear is her telling me she loves me. I’m a fraud. She doesn’t know how terrible, how stained I am in my heart. In my soul.

  “Tattoos are permanent,” I say finally.

  “Pretty much.”

  I exhale roughly, running fingers through my hair with more force than necessary. I should tell her the truth, but I can’t. If she knows the truth, she’ll never hold me in her arms. Or light my world with her presence. I can’t go back to the darkness again. “What if you regret it?”

  Her eyebrows pinch together, and she looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why would I do that?”

  “It hurts to remove a tattoo.”

  “I don’t plan on removing it. When I give my heart to someone, it’s forever.”

  Her words flow over me like warm honey, even though she’s saying them because she doesn’t know everything about me. Fear that she will learn and turn away, and guilt that I’m deceiving her by withholding the full truth tear at me. I debate with my better self…and lose. “Things don’t always work out.”

  “Wait. Are you worried about us breaking up?” She stares at me incredulously, a hint of hurt and vulnerability bleeding through those expressive eyes. “Who’s the guy telling me he loves me every day? Who’s looking for a job specifically in Philadelphia to be with me?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Oh, different. How?”

  “You deserve to be told you’re loved. You deserve the best.”

  She reaches over and puts a hand over my throbbing heart. “Tony, I love you,” she says before I can stop her. “You know that.”

  “Please. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Why? Because of what your mom thinks about you?”

  “Ivy.”

  “She told me.”

  Shock almost knocks me out. Mother doesn’t speak of Katherine’s death unless under the most extreme emotional turmoil. The only reason she mentioned my sister when we met again because she was afraid I’d mess things up in Tempérane.

  And it looks like I might have, without meaning to.

  Ivy adds, “She needs to see an army of therapists, not hold you responsible for something that couldn’t have been helped.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” I say, my voice tight with panic. “Is that what you told her? No wonder she was furious. You know nothing about Katherine’s death. You weren’t even here when it happened.”

  Ivy flinches as though I spat in her face. “Your mother said the same thing. So why don’t you tell me?”

  I could. I could tell her everything. But then won’t she see the blood on my hands? Recoil in horror? You make me sick, Mother said. Ivy will feel the same way if she knows the whole story. I’d rat
her have her angry and frustrated than experience her condemnation and disgust. But it’s like having to choose between a guillotine and a noose. “Because it’s none of your business,” I say painfully.

  “None of my business?” She stares at me. “When it’s hanging over us? When it’s tearing at both of us like this?”

  Her distress makes me want to share everything. But I steel myself. “It has nothing to do with you. You chose to tie yourself into a knot over it.”

  “You’re shutting me out, Tony. People who love each other don’t do that.”

  Pain darkens her gaze, pushing me to say it. Just confess it all.

  I can’t. It’ll be better to have her upset for a little while than realize I’m a monster beyond redemption.

  After several moments of silence, she takes in a shuddering breath, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t even know what love is if this is how you treat me. I love you, care about you and want you to be happy, but you only feel the same in return as long as you’re comfortable.”

  “You’re being dramatic,” I say, hating the pain I’m causing her.

  “What I’m being is honest. Because unlike you, I know what I want, I know what I feel, and I’m brave enough to admit it out loud.” Looking away, she starts blinking rapidly. Then finally, she adds, “You’re a fucking coward.”

  Yes. Yes, I am. But I can’t be brave like her because I’m too afraid. I have too much to lose—her. “Ivy, look. You’re upset right now, but once you give yourself some time to think it over, you’ll realize I’m ri—”

  “Don’t you dare pat me on the head and tell me everything’s going to be fine as long as I do everything you want! I’m not ‘upset,’ Tony. I’m furious. Disappointed. I thought what we had was better than this. I thought you’d be happy when you saw my tattoo. I thought you’d fight even harder for us, rather than complain about how permanent a tattoo is! If our relationship is so fragile that a tattoo is enough to make you shut me out, what the hell is the point?”

  “Ivy, I am flattered. Even honored,” I say helplessly, realizing the situation’s completely screwed up. This is not at all what I was trying for. I just wanted her not defend me in front of Mother. I only wish she hadn’t gotten the tattoo because I don’t deserve it.