“It’s been almost fifteen years…and we’ve never talked about it….Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
“Not really,” I manage to say, averting my eyes. “I mean…what’s the point?” My voice cracks, then trails off.
“Josie,” he says. “I think we both know the point. And I think it needs to happen. Now.”
My heart starts to pound in my ears as I try one last time to make it all go away, just as I’ve been doing since the night I first suspected the truth, the night Will found me in bed with Gabe. “Do we have to?” I whimper.
“Yes,” he says. “We do. I mean, Josie, shit….We were together the night Daniel died—and yet we’ve never talked about—”
“We weren’t together,” I cut him off, bracing myself, praying that maybe, just maybe, I’m actually wrong about my hunch. “We were just…at the same bar. Lots of people were there….”
“I know. Lots of people who had absolutely nothing to do with Daniel…” he says, holding his bottle cap between his finger and the counter. He flicks it hard, and we both watch it spin, then stop, before making eye contact again.
“Josie,” he says, the color draining from his face. “I have to tell you something.”
“No,” I say, my heart pounding in my chest, my instinct to flee kicking into high gear. I take a few steps backward, actually looking around the room for my best exit, but Nolan darts around the counter, putting his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.
“I have to,” he says again, more forcefully.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I say, my vision blurring.
“I don’t think you do,” he says, still holding on to me.
“Yes. I do,” I say, shaking free, fighting back panicked tears. “He wasn’t getting a burger that night, was he?”
Nolan stares at me a beat, then shakes his head slowly. “No,” he says. “He wasn’t.”
“He was coming to get me…wasn’t he?”
The tortured look on Nolan’s face confirms my worst fear, even before he nods and says yes.
“Fuck,” I say, trembling. “I knew it…I knew it was my fault. Fuck.”
“No, Josie,” Nolan says. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Of course it was my fault,” I say, choking back a sob. “He was coming to get me.”
“But don’t you see, Josie?” He stares at me.
“See what?”
“Don’t you see that I was the one who called him….I was the one who told him to get in his car and come get you. So see? It was my fault. Not yours.”
“But if I hadn’t been drunk—”
“But I wasn’t drunk, Josie. Don’t you get that? I wasn’t drunk at all. All I had to do was drive you home….I was talking to some girl. Some stupid girl I wanted to sleep with…I didn’t want my fun interrupted. So I called Daniel to come get you…and then I left the bar….I didn’t even wait for him to get there. I didn’t know he never got there. Not until the next morning when Meredith told me.” His face crumples, and he begins to break down and cry in a way that I have never seen a grown man cry. Not even my father when Daniel died.
My flight instinct grows stronger, and this time I manage to break free to the family room. I sink into the sofa, burying my face in my hands. Nolan’s footsteps are behind me. I can see him in my peripheral vision and feel his weight on the cushion next to me, his arm enveloping me.
“Josie,” he says. There is so much pain in his voice. “Please look at me, Josie.”
I do. For his sake.
“I’m sorry,” he says, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry, Josie.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, refusing to let him shift the blame from me. “He always told me not to drink so much….He always warned me about being like Dad….”
“Yes. But he told me, just the day before, that I should stop chasing stupid girls and try to find someone I really cared about…like Sophie….”
“Well, neither one of us listened to him, did we?” I say.
“But if only I had taken you home myself….It was my fault.”
We continue like that for some time, making disjointed, parallel confessions. I was having sex with some girl when he died….I was wasted when he died….I didn’t know until the next morning….You knew before I did.
At some point, when there is nothing left to say, he reaches for my hand. I give it to him. It should be awkward, sitting there holding my sister’s husband’s hand, but it’s not. It’s actually the opposite. He feels like my brother. Not Daniel, but another brother. We sit in silence for a long time before I finally ask the question burning a hole in my heart. “Does Meredith know?”