by Ellie Wade
I realize that she wanted to tell me that little tidbit about Stephen because I had seen the way he was around Leo and I wasn’t impressed. She assumes that I have a bad opinion of her husband, and she’s right.
She continues, “Okay, so Stephen told me that when Leo was very young, his father would take him to the basement and”—her eyes fill with tears—“abuse him.”
“What kind of abuse?” I ask.
“Physical … and sexual.” She swallows a lump in her throat. “When it first started, Stephen heard his brother screaming and didn’t know why, so he went looking for Leo and found their dad raping him.”
“What?” I cry, tears falling from my eyes.
Cat dabs her tears with a napkin. “It happened a lot. Stephen heard Leo’s screams for years, but he was told to never go down to the basement again, or it would be him. He was afraid.”
“What about his mom?”
“She knew. She was afraid too.”
My tears fall freely, and the anger wells up in my chest. This isn’t the type of information that I can process here. I’m going to start yelling in this diner, and I need to get out. I run for the door. Cat chases me out.
“Alma, my car’s here.” She points to a BMW parked toward the corner. “Come sit and talk to me.”
I follow her to the car and sit in the passenger seat. Once the door is closed, my sobs come. I cry into my hands, rocking back and forth. My chest aches for Leo and the little boy inside him who was stolen.
“I can’t believe this.” I shake my head. “When did the abuse stop?”
“When Leo was ten, he tried to kill himself, and it stopped after that.”
“Who was there to protect him?” I scream, snot and tears covering my lips. I wipe the back of my arm under my nose. “His mom should’ve protected him! Stephen should’ve stopped it! Why is everyone hanging around Mr. Harding like nothing happened? This is sick! I hate them all.”
“I know.” She cries silently beside me as I fall apart. “I’ve been trying to understand it. They’re all victims, Alma, in their own way. They’ve chosen to pretend it didn’t happen and carry on with their lives. His mom is weak; that’s just who she is. Stephen was a child too.”
“I guarantee you that Leo hasn’t forgotten it! How could he? They all ruined his life. And you all are just over there, having dinner with a child rapist?”
“It’s a challenging situation. Despite the trauma, they’re still a family. I think people have this innate desire to stick together. Even Leo still comes around for holidays. As outsiders, looking in, it’s hard for us to understand the messed up dynamics.”
“I’ll never forgive them.” My chest heaves. “Why are you telling me this now? You know Leo and I aren’t together anymore. I love him, and I understand now why he might turn to drugs to cope with his demons. But I can’t be with an addict. I was raised by addicts. I won’t be a part of that life. I can’t be a part of that life.”
“After Christmas, Leo signed himself into rehab for a month. Then, he saw you and started spiraling, but instead of turning to drugs, he got help. He wants to be better, Alma. He’s been in rehab and therapy for four months now. I’m the only one he allows to visit. His room is barren. There are no personal effects, except for an ornament of the two of you. You’re kissing his cheek.”
“I had that made for him for Christmas.”
“He doesn’t know that I know, but when he went to the bathroom, I found a note you had written him peeking out from underneath his pillow. He’s only had two personal items in his room all these months, and they’re both from you. He loves you, Alma. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for you. He’s afraid of failing you, but he loves you, and I know you love him.”
I swallow and swipe the back of my hands across my cheeks. “I know he does. I know he loves me, but I can’t save him.”
“He’s trying to save himself.” Cat’s voice trembles with sadness. “He’s trying so hard. Just love him back. He deserves to be loved.”
I cup my face with the palms of my hands and cry. I almost can’t process what I’ve learned in the past few minutes. No child should have to go through what Leo did. I can’t imagine the pain that an experience like that has on a person. How does anyone survive that? It’s not fair. I’d live my childhood over a hundred times if I could save Leo from his.
Forever seems to pass as I fall apart in Cat’s car. She doesn’t say anything else and allows me my grief. When my tears run dry and my chest physically aches from too much despair, I ask Cat to drive me the two blocks back to my dorm.
She pulls up alongside the walkway leading to the building.
“I’m sorry. I know that information broke your heart, but I love Leo. I want him to be happy, and I think you’re his shot.” Cat pats my knee.
“I have a lot to think about. I can’t promise anything.”
“I know, and you have to do what’s best for you. I understand that. But I can tell you that Leo is better than I’ve ever seen him. He’s putting in the work. He’s trying. People beat addiction. People survive horrible pasts.”
I nod and smile weakly. At least Leo has his sister-in-law to love him since he has the worst family in the world. I feel incredible gratitude toward her.
“Thank you for loving him.”
She sniffles and bobs her head as a tear falls. “He’ll be home on Saturday.”
“Okay,” I say before stepping out and closing the door. It’s not an answer, good or bad, just a word, but it’s all I have.
THIRTY-THREE
Alma
The rest of the week passes in slow motion. Every time I think about Leo, I start to cry. I’m sure my professors are worried about me at this point. I can’t help it. I’m an emotional wreck.
I met with Luca and apologized for skipping out on our dinner, promising that I’d pay him for the wasted food. He refused to take my money. Instead, we worked out my work schedule. I’ll be starting next week.
Amos has been busy with his end-of-the-year school load, so I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Quinn has been immersed in school and sorority activities, so she hasn’t been around much either. I’m grateful for the extra alone time. I need time to process all this. I’ve decided that I’m not telling anyone what Cat told me. It’s Leo’s history, and he wouldn’t want others knowing. I don’t blame him either.
I’ve gone back and forth all week on what I should do. Of course I want to run to him and hug and tell him that he’s loved. But I’m scared. A repeat of Christmas is inevitable, and I can’t make it through that again. If I know anything, it’s that you can’t change people. I could love Leo with every fiber of my being for the rest of my life, and I wouldn’t be able to change him.
I know myself enough to know what I deserve, and it’s not a life of loving an addict. We’ve been apart for over four months. I’m finally functioning. I just need to move on.
According to Cat, he came home today.
I need to move on.
I imagine him alone in that house, and I yearn to hold him.
I need to move on.
He has Cat and Ethan. He’ll be okay.
I need to move on.
We can’t be together. I know that deep down in my soul.
I need to move on.
I throw on my shoes and run out the door. I’m going to move on. I will. I just have to make sure he’s okay first.
His house looks different, though I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe it’s just for the simple fact that I haven’t looked this way since our last dance. I step up onto the front porch. Pulling in a fortifying breath, I knock.
A moment later, Leo opens the door.
He’s as beautiful as ever. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that clings to his biceps. There’s a small amount of stubble on his square jaw, and it’s intoxicating. His blue eyes are bright and clear, content. He looks good and healthy.
“Hi,” I say.
He sca
ns my body, as if he can’t believe I’m here. His eyes hold mine. “Hi.”
The silence between us is uneasy. Uncertainty taints the air. My body wants to go to him. Goose bumps pebble on my skin as I’m innately drawn toward him.
He shakes his head, as if breaking a trance, and steps to the side, allowing me entrance. “You can come in. I was just cleaning.”
“You’re cleaning?” I attempt a lame joke.
“Yeah, well, I left the place a mess.”
I step inside and look around. Random cushions are gone from the couch, and a couple of chairs are missing. I want to ask him what happened, but I don’t.
“Cat told me that you would be back today,” I say instead.
“Yeah, when I saw you here, I figured.”
“She loves you. I like her a lot.”
He nods. “Yeah, she’s a good one.”
The mention of Cat brings back all of the information that she told me and the emotions that came with it. Then, seeing Leo here in the flesh and thinking of him as a boy, I break. I gasp as I start to sob.
“I’m sorry,” I cry.
He wraps his arms around me, and the contact feels so good.
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears soak his shirt, and he leads us to a part of the couch with cushions. We sit, our arms clinging to one another. I apologize over and over through my tears.
I’m sorry for what he’s been through. I’m sorry for not understanding. I’m sorry for showing up here when we’re both just trying to move on. I’m sorry that he’s the one comforting me when it should be the other way around. I’m sorry that life isn’t fair and that two people who love each other as much as Leo and I do can’t be together. I’m sorry for it all.
“Shh. It’s okay,” he says quietly, his words broken, and I realize that he’s crying too.
We hold each other for what seems like hours until our tears abate.
“I’m so proud of you,” I tell him, pulling away from his chest so he can see my face when I say it. “Getting help takes a lot of strength.”
“Thank you.” The corner of his lips tilts in a grin, but he still looks sad. “I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I know what you’ve gone through with your parents, and I never wanted to hurt you. I think that’s the part that’s haunted me the most—what you must’ve gone through, seeing me like that.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, swiping my thumb across his cheek to catch a fallen tear.
“But it’s not, Alma. It’s not okay.”
“Maybe it’s not, but I’m okay.”
“Because you’re so strong. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.” He presses his lips in a tight line.
“You’re stronger than I could ever be, Leo.”
He forces out a dry laugh. “But I’m not. If I were, we wouldn’t be here, like this. I wouldn’t have ruined everything.”
“I never would’ve survived, having to walk in your shoes.” My lip trembles, and fresh tears surface. “I would’ve died.”
“I’ve wanted to die most of my life, but I’m not strong enough to do that.”
“Stop,” I beg, placing a finger against his lips. “You’re here for a reason, Leo. You’re kind and good. You care about others. You love fiercely and boldly. You’re tough, and you’ve fought your entire life just to keep breathing. The darkness in your past isn’t your fault. You are so good.” I hold my hand over his heart. “You deserve happiness. You deserve love. Don’t let anyone take that from you. They’ve taken enough.”
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Alma.” He leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t think you know how much I love you. I would fight my way back from hell a thousand times to see your face again.”
“I love you too, Leo. I always will.”
“I know I ruined what we had, and I’ll regret that forever. But know that I will never love anyone else but you. You are the only woman who will ever be allowed in my heart. I lost you, and I’ll live with that, but having you for the time I did, no matter how brief, will keep me going. You are the love of my life.”
His words are a confusing mixture between a good-bye and a plea.
“I don’t think I can … I’m scared.”
“I know. My issues are a hard limit for you, and I get that. I take the blame for ruining it. I understand why you can’t be with me, but I just want you to know that I’m taking sobriety seriously this time. I’m trying so hard. I don’t want the darkness to win. I want to dance with you in the light.”
“I need time to figure things out, Leo.”
“Okay, I get it. I can wait, for forever even. If you can’t ever trust me again, then I accept that, but I’m still going to love you. I don’t have a choice in that. I wasn’t planning on coming to you or saying any of this. I was just going to stay clean and love you from afar. I respect your wishes. I do. But now, you’re here, and when I’m with you, I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Well, I tried to stay away too. It seems we both have issues.”
“Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Leo …” I drawl his name out.
“I just want to hold you. Clothes on. No expectations. I promise. Please. One night?”
Against my better judgment, I nod. “One night.”
He leads me up to one of the spare bedrooms.
“What’s wrong with your room?”
“I’m waiting for my new bed to come in.”
“What happened to your old bed?” I question.
“It caught on fire,” he states as if a bed catching fire were a normal occurrence.
“Oh my gosh!” I exclaim.
“Yeah,” he sighs and directs me into a spare bedroom.
We climb beneath the covers, and Leo wraps his arm around me, holding me close to his body. Months of longing and exhaustion and so many tears weigh heavily on me, and here, in this space of our shared breaths, it all goes away. Sleep takes me, and something resembling happiness fills my heart.
THIRTY-FOUR
Leo
Yeah, turns out, I can be a noble, decent human being for about a day. Twenty-four hours hits, and I’m ready to sell my soul to have her back. I meant what I told Alma yesterday. I hadn’t planned on going after her. I knew she didn’t want to get back together. I’d told myself that I was strong enough—selfless enough—to leave her be. Apparently, I’m not.
Last night, I slept better than I had in years. I needed to fall asleep with Alma in my arms. Her scent still on the sheets was the wake-up call I needed.
When I finally woke, she was gone but had left me a note, telling me once again that she was proud of me. While that’s all well and good and I appreciate the sentiment, there was no mention of immediate future plans. No I’ll see you tonight, and that’s not going to fly.
Yeah, I know I’m a fuckup. Alma is smart to be hesitant. But I’m not going to fail her again. I put in the work, and I will continue to put in the work for the rest of my life to be good enough for her because she’s it for me. And while she could definitely find better than me, she’ll never find someone who loves her more.
THIRTY-FIVE
Alma
As I near my dorm room, I can’t help thinking back to August when I first approached the formally drab brown door. Our once-brown door is now a colorful collage of our life this school year. Quinn has covered the space in a patchwork quilt of pretty scrapbook paper. There are pictures and quotes affixed to the vibrant colors. Every time I come home, it just makes me happy. There’s not a roommate around who could top my year with Quinn. She’s perfect in her bubbly, obnoxiously adorable way, and I’m going to miss her desperately. I can’t believe there’s less than two weeks left of my freshman year.
Everyone says college is life-changing, but for me, it truly is. I’m not the same person I was eight months ago.
I’ve loved. I’ve lost. I’ve gotten a job. I’ve let my parents’ lack of in
terest in my life stop bothering me so much. I’ve made real friends. I really do enjoy the company of Quinn’s sorority sisters and the girls we’ve met in our hall, but mostly, I adore Quinn. I love her in the way I’d love a sister. We haven’t spoken about her plans for next year, but I have a feeling she’s going to want to live with her sorority sisters, which will leave me with a brand-new roommate.
A wave of oregano, basil, and Parmesan cheese hits me when I open the door to the room. I step inside, confused at the sight that awaits.
“What’s all this?” I ask Quinn, who sits on her bed, her legs dangling from the edge.
In the center of the dorm room is a table with a burgundy linen tablecloth. In the middle of the table is an arrangement of electric votive candles surrounding a large pillar candle. There are half a dozen plates covered with silver domes to keep the food beneath warm.
“You tell me. It’s for you. These guys just came and set it up and said they’d be back later to clean it all up. Don’t forget those.” She nods toward my bed, which is covered in fancy white pastry boxes.
On the bedside table is one of the most beautiful bouquets I’ve ever seen. It’s a wild and artsy arrangement of purples and pinks—daisies, tulips, roses, lilies, and sweet peas. In front of the bouquet, leaning against the square vase, is a letter with my name on it.
I snatch it up and open the envelope. There’s a handwritten note inside.
Alma,
The first time I saw you was in Giovanni’s. You came barreling into me while looking at your phone. I was so taken aback because when your body connected with mine, I felt this chemistry between us. You were wearing jean shorts and a baggy T-shirt. Your hair was up in a messy ponytail, strands falling, framing your face. You were clumsy and awkward, a little sweaty, and by far, you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I was immediately terrified of you and the power I knew you’d hold over my heart. After you apologized and went stumbling toward the restroom, I left without waiting for my food because I couldn’t deal with seeing you again. From that initial moment, I knew you were special, and I was sure we’d be amazing together. But I also knew me, and I couldn’t risk it.