The Sins That Bind Us

by Geneva Lee

  "Then I will do better," he promises. "I broke the rules, too, remember?"

  "They weren't your rules," I say with a shrug. I channel indifference, but instead, it comes out flat, as hollow as the idea of him leaving makes me feel.

  "Like hell they're not my rules. You wouldn't need them at all if it wasn't for me."

  "I've always had these rules," I say, defensively.

  "How many men have you dated since Max was born?”

  He's calling my bluff. My hands clench into fists at my side. "I don't need you to analyze me.”

  Jude glances out the window and we both fall silent.

  "I'm sorry, Faith, I'm not trying to take things out on you, but neither of us should be taking things out on ourselves, either. It's natural for a man and a woman who have feelings for one another to want to be intimate."

  "I suppose so, but that's just not something that I'm capable of." I force myself to say it, even though I feel my heart starting to crack at the edges.

  "Don't get carried away. Don't let guilt force you to say something you don't mean.” It's not advice. It's an order, and I bristle at the firm tone of his voice.

  "My number one priority is protecting Max and making sure he doesn't get hurt.”

  “Do you think I would hurt him?" Jude asks in a strangled tone.

  "No, but what happens in a few months if you decide you want to move back to Seattle? Or LA? I don't know where we fit in the picture."

  "You are the picture. Everything else is background,” Jude says softly.

  I want to go to him then, but I resist. He says all the right things and he means them. So, why can't I let him love me?

  When I don't respond he switches tactics. "Maybe we need to approach this practically. I've been doing a little research on cochlear implants."

  "What?!" I cry. It's the last place I expected this conversation to go.

  "I know you said the insurance company wouldn't pay for them, but that's not really an issue now."

  "It is an issue," I stop him, "because I don't have the money for them."

  "I do."

  "Jude, I'm sorry. I can't let you and even if I would there are so many things to consider."

  "Like what?" he presses. "I know you aren't ready for this to be real between us, but it's real for me and him. I love your kid, and I want what's best for him. I don't have a family to take care of."

  "No, you don't," I say, pointedly. I take a few steps back so that I can lean against the wall. Jude gets to his feet and approaches me.

  "I found my family. We both know that. It's time you start letting me be part of it.”

  God, I want to, but I know better than to rely on anyone. "Why do you want him to have the implants, anyway? So that we can fuck on the couch? So that we can do whatever we want, because he'll be able to call out to us?"

  Jude's eyes narrow and his shoulders tense. "That is not it at all and you know it."

  "He's perfectly capable of communicating with us. We don't need to put him through an unnecessary procedure just so we can be selfish."

  "It's not selfish to want what's best for him," Jude roars.

  "And how do you know what's best for him?" I demand. "You're not his father. You haven't been here every day for the last four years."

  He stops a few steps away from me. "I'm here now."

  But I can tell my comments struck him. I long to take them back, but it needed to be said. The longer we pretend this is something other than it is the more we're both going to get hurt. We stare at each other as I try to get up the courage to make the next move, but it's Jude who finally speaks.

  "Loving you two is the least selfish thing I've ever done. I know you have a hard time trusting other people, and I'm trying to be patient with that. But, dammit, sooner or later you're going to have to accept that I'm not going anywhere."

  I clutch the door frame to prevent myself from running into his arms. Max’s reappearance ensures that instead. Even in the darkened hallway he looks green.

  “Uh-oh." I shift to mom-mode instantly, but, before I can react, he opens his mouth and vomits all over the carpet. I close my eyes and search for the inner well-spring of maternal strength I need to tap at this moment.

  "Just go," I say softly to Jude before I turn and carry my son into the bathroom. I peel his sticky clothes off him and help him wash his mouth out. I’m going through the motions. There's nothing I can do for a sick four-year-old. No medicine I can give him. I can simply be there, holding his hand and cleaning him up. That's the job I accepted the day he was born.

  Why are you fighting? Max signs. Is it because of me?

  I file away this small piece of evidence that sending Jude away is the best possible thing for my son.

  "No," I say to him. "We're just talking."

  Please, don't ask him to go, Max asks. And there it is. He wants him here as much as I want him here. As much as Jude wants to be here. Still I know that it's better to force him to go, because that won’t always be the case. They might not understand that now, but someday they will.

  I doze off cuddling Max. When I trip bleary-eyed into the living room, I discover the vomit has been cleaned up. I find Jude in by the washing machine moving Max's pajamas into the dryer. He doesn't look up at me. "I'll leave in a second. I just didn't want you to have to deal with all of this."

  Tears pricked the corner of my eyes.

  "I'm sorry," I say softly.

  He leans down gripping the edge of the washing machine and releases a heavy sigh. "I know what we're up against, Faith, and I know why you're worried. I can't promise you that I'll never make a mistake. But I can promise you that everything I have and everything that I am is yours."

  He waits for me to respond and I know what he expects. I'm supposed to say the same thing and I want to, but I know that if I do, it will be a lie. When I don't speak, he turns and cups my chin. "Get some rest, Sunshine."

  He needs to know the truth even if it means losing him. I open my mouth ready to spill all the sordid secrets and tortured memories of my past.

  Instead Max begins to wail across the house, and my head falls forward. “Round two.”

  "I've got this one," Jude says firmly. "You go to bed for a while. It looks like we're in for a long night."

  We. We’re in for a long night. No hesitation. No expectation. Jude has chosen his place beside me and beside Max.

  He pushes me toward my bedroom and then hurries to Max without so much as a kiss. I don't mind one bit. If he really believes this is where he belongs and this is what he wants, then his priorities are in the right place. Right now they need to be with Max.

  As I climb under the covers and snuggle down into bed, my eyelids grow heavy even as my mind circles around on itself, turning over things that he needs to know. He needs to know why Max is deaf and he needs to know the sins that have brought me to this tiny town.

  But most of all Jude needs to know what I'm running from.

  Chapter 19

  Before

  The crying never stopped. Each tiny, mewling noise he made increased her panic. It expanded, pressing against her chest until she thought she might explode. When Grace was gone at work, she would leave him in the bassinet and let them both cry until one of them fell asleep. Faith dreamed of faces she’d left behind her. There had been a lot of bad people she’d left in California, but there had been kind ones, too. Someone was always willing to share a score or offer a couch. More than a few times, a man had welcomed her into his home. Some of them fell in love with her and she fell in love with their warm beds and clean sheets. She fucked most of them. It was part of the arrangement. She’d made love to one.

  Max had his eyes. His kind, blue eyes that made her want to be someone better than she was. He told her that she had to have faith in herself because it was in her nature—that her mama must have known that when she named her. She wanted to believe him. She might have loved him. She left him when she found out she was pregnant. He wasn’t the
type to support a habit. She’d promised him to stay clean and then she’d gotten on her knees, and worse, to support it herself instead. It would have hurt him to know that. It would have destroyed him if the baby turned out not to be his, and she knew he would have been able to tell. The possibilities were limited as to who had fathered the baby. She’d been faithful to him except when it came to paying for what he wouldn’t provide.

  When Max slept, she pictured him in the room his daddy would have given him. It would have been the small one overlooking the ocean. He loved the sound of the waves. Each time she imagined it, the vision blazed through her, like those first drinks had years ago. Maybe she was addicted to him as well, but really she knew that he’d been a safe place. She wanted to believe she could love him, but love wasn’t in the stack she’d been dealt.

  If she loved anyone it was Grace. She should love Max but every time she searched for the emotion, it was absent. Perhaps love wasn’t free either and she wasn’t willing to pay whatever price it solicited. She stared at the popcorn ceiling and considered that as Max wailed in the bedroom. Faith didn’t bother to sit up as the front door slammed shut.

  “Christ, Faith! Can’t you hear him?” Grace didn’t bother to wait for a response. A few minutes later, the crying had ceased and she appeared, holding Max, over Faith’s head. “He just wants to be held.”

  Faith suspected he wanted to be loved, but she said nothing. That’s why he calmed down for Grace and not her. A familiar stab of pain struck her, lingering in her skin. She was beginning to hate Grace. That she could feel. She’d felt it toward herself for years. She hated Grace for being everything she could not be, and herself for everything she was. Max’s presence only reinforced that truth. Outwardly, she shrugged. “He cries all the time.”

  Grace sat at the end of the couch and sighed audibly.

  “Look,” she began, “I know this is an adjustment. It is for me, too. But maybe you should make an appointment with your doctor—“

  “Don’t start that again,” Faith cut her off. She knew all too well that a pill wasn’t going to fix anything. She’d tried them all.

  “You don’t have to take anything if you’re scared.”

  Grace still labored under the impression that Faith wanted to be clean. She believed Faith had run away from that life, when really she’d been running from the truth. That was clear now.

  “It won’t work.” As far as she was concerned there was nothing more to say.

  “Then let’s at least get out of the house,” Grace urged, the first notes of frustration straining her voice.

  “I think we’re supposed to stay home for a few months.” That probably wasn’t true but it sounded like it could be. All the other rules regarding being pregnant and having a baby made about as much sense to her.

  “Oh my God, I’m no longer suggesting it, I’m demanding it. You aren’t an invalid, you’re a mother!” She pushed unsteadily onto her feet, cradling Max carefully. He’d finally fallen asleep and now she wanted to leave. But as she stood, he opened one bleary eye, smiled drunkenly as if Grace was intoxicating, and settled back into his dreams.

  That was how she was supposed to look exactly. It was the trouble with being around her sister, she was an ever-present reflection of what Faith secretly wished. Grace was her fairy tale mirror, showing her the right way to do things.

  “Fine,” she agreed reluctantly. She would try. She had nothing else to give either of them but effort.

  They went to the Pacific Science Center on Grace’s employee pass and took turns holding Max.

  “I think he’s big enough for a stroller,” Grace said. She rocked him gently as they wandered through the butterfly garden. “I just have to put a little aside for the next couple of weeks.”

  “I’ll get a job.” She would. It felt good to even say it. This sitting at home shit had to stop.

  Grace snorted and tilted her head down to Max. “You have a job.”

  But I don’t want it. Instead she nodded as a large monarch butterfly landed on her sister’s shoulder, then fluttered to Max’s forehead.

  “That means luck!” Grace smiled widely. “You’re going to be blessed, little man.”

  Faith’s throat constricted around the lump that sat perpetually in it. Maybe Max already was.

  They let Max dip his tiny hands hand into the museum’s shallow tide pool and laughed when he flapped wildly, showering them both with saltwater. A few of the children gathered along the raised edge of the exhibit splashed him back as he gurgled cheerily until a museum volunteer asked them to stop. Then they took him to the planetarium and showed him the stars. That night he fell asleep without a whimper. He’d finally seen some of the wide world outside the little house.

  If only he knew how wide it was and what terrifying possibilities it held. Faith laid awake, staring at the popcorn ceiling, wishing she could see the stars.

  In the morning, she disappeared into that vast, frightening world without a second thought.

  Chapter 20

  Jude and I require adult time.

  Not the kind of time we've spent pressed against garage doors, but serious, face-to-face, uninterrupted time to talk. So I ask him out.

  It's silly that I still feel giddy when he says yes. Since this is my date, I choose the restaurant. I decide to stick to his comfort zone. Thai Gardens perches on the corner of downtown. It's a little more romantic than my living room, with dreamy plum accents and exotic statues, while still being casual.

  "Thai?" he asks when we are shown to our table. I open my napkin and lay it across my lap. "I thought I'd expand your horizons."

  "I guess I’ll have to trust you."

  Trust me. That might not last long.

  His eyes flicker to my hand, and I freeze. I didn't even realize I’d picked up my fork and begun to tap it nervously against the tabletop. Jude removes the offending utensil gently and links his fingers through mine.

  Usually that gesture would calm me, but I know why we're really here tonight.

  Yes, we need adult time. We need time without Max and Amie. We need time away from the couch and outside of an NA meeting to really get to know one another. Although he has been nothing but open about his life, I can't say the same.

  When it comes to Jude, I am spiraling out of control. It's a dizzying, exhilarating feeling to fall and know that he'll be there to catch me, but I can't ask him to give me any more of himself until he knows the truth.

  The waitress appears and Jude asks her for recommendations. My stomach is one large knot and I defer to him to choose for me. She shakes her head a little as she walks away, probably marveling at the sheer number of things he actually orders.

  Meanwhile, I decide the truth goes better with main courses than appetizers.

  "By the way, I meant to tell you," Jude begins, as he drops a straw into his iced tea. "You look beautiful tonight, Sunshine."

  I can't keep the grin off my face, despite the somber reason that I chose to actually dig a dress out of my closet.

  "Amie pretended to faint when she saw me," I tell him. "I guess it's a surprise that I own something besides jeans."

  "I will admit I like those jeans and what they do for your ass, but you're stunning tonight."

  I smooth my black crepe dress down, suddenly self-conscious. I’ve piled my hair into curls on top of my head and even gone so far as to apply eyeliner—the tricky liquid kind—as well as lipstick.

  "You look nice too." I try to deflect some of the attention away from me.

  He runs a finger around the collar of his black button-down, and shrugs. "I'm not even in the same league as you."

  I wonder if he'll think that when I finally come clean. The knot in my stomach coils tighter, and I gulp down water trying to calm myself. Of course, I then proceed to set the glass down on the tines of my fork, knocking it across the table.

  "Oh my God! I'm so sorry!" I rush to blot the running water before it spills onto his pants. I can't even get simple thing
s right. Jude grabs my hand and I realize I'm cursing myself out under my breath.

  "It's not a big deal," he says softly.

  The waitress bustles over with dry napkins, clearing the homeless ice cubes. I find myself wishing it were so easy to mop up my other mistakes.

  I need to get a grip. I can't possibly expect to make any sense if I start sharing now.

  The main courses arrive and I’m up against my own self-imposed deadline. Thankfully the spicy, garlicky aroma wafting from the various plates distracts Jude.

  "Let's see if this is any good." He spears a shrimp onto his fork and pops it into his mouth.

  "Don't have an orgasm," I tease as his eyes roll back.

  "Which one is this?" he asks after he swallows.

  "Um, I think it's Mother-in-Law Shrimp."

  “Then I don't know what everyone complains about," he says, "because damn this is an in-law I want to take home."

  I force a laugh as my stomach flips over. "Well, it's the only one you'll get to take home."

  The joke falls flat, so I move my food around on my plate unable to take a single bite.

  “Faith,” he says after a few minutes, "You're not the only one who grew up without a family.”

  I know it's hard for him to say that, because unlike him I have a son now, and a grandmother I can still see even if she’s not well. Still, I appreciate that he understands how I feel, even if he only has a small inkling of the magnitude of my loss.

  I abandon my attempt to eat. Folding my hands on the table, I steel myself. "There are some things I should tell you.”

  He raises a hand to cut me off. "Let's not tell our sad stories. We can't revise our past, Sunshine. We can only decide what happens next."

  "We write our own stories?" I raise an eyebrow.

  "Exactly," he says with a grin.

  The knot inside me begins to loosen. Maybe he's right. Maybe I don’t have to burden Jude with my sins. It’s too much to hope for that I might get a second chance, but he makes me want to dream.