I kick the blanket off my legs, then stand, pacing in front of the coffee table. “What do you mean you can’t tell me how you know that? You drop a bomb like this and then pull some…some Woodward and Bernstein bullshit?”
Josie covers her face with her hands, mumbling again that she can’t, that she promised.
“He was our brother, Josie,” I say, wishing I hadn’t used the past tense, when he will always be our brother. “You’re telling me crucial details about the night our brother died, and you’re worried about a promise you made to someone else? Who was it? Shawna?” I shout.
“No,” she says through sobs. “It wasn’t Shawna.”
“Then who?”
She shakes her head, looking pained and panicked and desperate. And suddenly, just like that, I know who she’s protecting.
“Nolan,” I whisper, my heart racing, my head spinning. “Nolan called Daniel that night. To come get you.”
It is a statement, not a question—and she doesn’t deny it.
“So,” I say, my voice calm and restrained—the opposite of the way I feel inside, “what you’re telling me is that my sister…and my husband…have been keeping this secret from me for fifteen fucking years?”
“I didn’t know for sure,” Josie says, wiping away tears. “Until last weekend.”
“I don’t believe you. And besides, clearly Nolan did,” I say. “Nolan must have known that he called Daniel to come get you….”
“Please don’t tell him I told you,” she says. “I think he wanted to tell you himself….”
“Fuck. Him.” I spit out the words with as much venom as possible, my disbelief morphing into rage. “And fuck you, too.”
“Meredith,” she says. “Please…”
“Talk about a betrayal,” I say as Josie begins to bawl and beg. The sound of her gurgling sobs, the sight of her face glistening with snot and tears, only makes me hate her. I pick up one of her boots and throw it as hard as I can. It hits the wall, the heel leaving a black mark. “And what part of ‘take off your fucking shoes when you’re in the fucking house’ don’t you get, Josie?”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“For wearing your shoes in the house? Or for not telling me that you and Nolan were responsible for Daniel’s death?” I shout.
“God. Don’t say that,” Josie says, her eyes filled with horror, her lower lip trembling. “Please don’t say that.”
“Well,” I say. “Let’s look on the bright side. At least this makes my decision to divorce him a little easier.”
“Meredith, don’t….Don’t let that happen to you….You love each other,” she says, then launches into a rambling monologue about how this has affected her relationships. That she’s been punishing herself for years. Something about Will and their breakup. Something about Gabe.
I cut her off. “Once again,” I say. “This is all about you, Josie. All about how Daniel’s death affected you.”
“No,” she says. “I just don’t want this to have an impact on your marriage, too.”
“Too late,” I say.
“I’m so sorry. He’s so sorry, too. Can’t you forgive us?”
“Talk to Daniel about forgiveness, Josie. Talk to God about that.”
“I have,” she says—which is a neat trick since I’m pretty sure she’s an atheist.
“How about Mom and Dad?” I say. “Do they know?”
She shakes her head.
“Think they’ll forgive you?” I say. “Think Mom will be okay with this twist in the story?”
“I don’t know,” she whimpers, her face red and blotchy and streaked with mascara. “I hope she can forgive me. I hope Mom and Dad both can.”
“Well, they just might,” I say, my voice quivering as I hold back my own tears, determined not to cry until I’m alone. “But I will never forgive you, Josie….Not for as long as I live.”
chapter twenty-nine
JOSIE
I stay on Ellen’s sofa for a long time, nursing then refilling my whiskey, reeling, as I formulate a further plea for forgiveness. I know there is nothing that I can say or do that will change her mind about what I’ve done—and what I’ve left undone—for so long. She will only think me more selfish. It crosses my mind that maybe she is right, that this whole trip has been completely self-serving. But then I feel a flash of anger, realizing that there is so often a catch-22 with Meredith; damned if I do, damned if I don’t.