CHAPTER THIRTY
Once Before
Zach and I are alone at the house all night. Both of us are numb. The others have taken Sabin to the emergency room. The minute that Chris finished trying to tell me that we are over, Sabin vomited and started to choke. Chris rolled him over, and when Sabe stopped heaving, he was still unconscious. Chris wouldn’t look at me, but adamantly refused to let me go with them. My hope is that Sabin will have his stomach pumped to all hell or something, and he’ll be okay. So I stare at my phone waiting to hear something.
Outside, an earsplitting clap of thunder announces that the storm that’s been on the way has arrived, and a hard rain starts to fall. Zach has lit a fire to try to take away the chill, but neither of us can stop shivering. We haven’t talked about the implosion of either of our relationships. The devastation and confusion are too great. Also, the anger. We fall asleep together on the couch.
Zach wakes me early in the morning. He’s showered, his hair still wet, and he shakes me hard until I growl at him. I don’t want to be awake. I want to disappear. He tells me to get dressed and to meet him in the car.
“What is it? Wait, is it Sabin?” I sit up.
“No. He’s okay. I got a text from Estelle. He’s going to be fine. Get dressed.” He hands me a travel mug of coffee. “We’re taking a trip.”
“Where are we going?”
“Just get ready.”
Thirty minutes later, we are driving out of Bar Harbor. Zach’s aviator shades hide his eyes, but I can see determination in his posture and his grip on the steering wheel. He has been unusually curt with me today, but I don’t like being kidnapped.
“Zach.” I touch his shoulder softly. “Where are we going?”
He clamps his mouth shut and doesn’t answer me right away. “You know what I know now, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, you know more. I didn’t mean to listen in, but yesterday I heard a bit of a conversation between James and Chris. Estelle? She’s … There’s a lot more isn’t there? They’re all in deep shit.”
“Yes.” My voice splinters. “Yes.”
“It’s much worse than I understood. So much worse.”
“I know. I had no idea. Zach, where are we going?”
“I don’t want to talk. Just let me drive.”
I’m exhausted, but I can’t rest. I shut my eyes, and I am haunted by Chris’s stories. The repeated trauma they faced … It’s too much. I know how markedly I fell apart after the fire, and this is so much worse. How they have functioned at all, seemingly so well until now, is impossible to understand. They are tough, all of them, but as Chris pointed out, they have been damaged profoundly. What Chris had to go through, what he endured … What has been done to his body and mind … I have graphic images of his childhood that I cannot stop seeing.
I am deeply in love with Chris. He is everything to me. He saved me, and he’s not going to let me save him. I don’t even know how to process that. I don’t know what to do.
“Zach, pull over.” I’ve started to cry now, immediately choking on my sobs. “Pull over.”
Zach veers the car off to the side of the highway, and I can barely see as I get the door open and lean against the guardrail. I vomit repeatedly. Zach gets out and comes to stand next to me with his hand on my back while I empty my stomach, coughing and crying.
“I know, Blythe. I know.”
“Oh, Zach. No, no, no! Please tell me this didn’t happen. Please, I can’t stand this. Please, make it go away. Not them. Not Chris. Not Eric and Estelle. God, not Sabin. Not my Sabin. Oh please. I don’t want to lose Chris, I don’t want to lose him. None of them. We can’t let them go.”
He hands me a tissue from the car and then takes me in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. They can’t … they can’t tolerate relationships. That’s why Chris and Eric are trying to leave us. Our love is too much, and they don’t think they deserve it. Or they’re afraid it won’t last. Or … any number of things. Their attachment issues are wholly f*cked up. It’s not their fault.”
We cry together, both of us on the verge of losing the people we are madly in love with and both of us filled with immeasurable anger and heartbreak.
Zach gets me back into the car and buckles my seat belt for me, as I am too hysterical to do anything but fall apart.
“We need to keep going, Blythe. Let’s just keep going.”
I can’t imagine where Zach is taking us, but at this point, it hardly matters. I cry until I have no tears left.
It takes about two hours of driving, but finally I calm down. I can feel that I am shutting off, as if the depression that Chris helped me chase away is reappearing. It’s going to take hold of me, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight it this time. Not without Chris.
I realize that Zach has stopped the car. We are parked on a gravel driveway in a tree-filled area that overlooks a huge contemporary house. The hard angles and sleek design feel cold and stiff. It looks to be three floors and the view to the ocean must be extraordinary. Even from the car, I can hear the waves hitting the shore. The house is isolated on what appears to be a huge piece of property. There are no other houses in sight.
I wipe my eyes. “Where are we?”
“This is where it all happened.”
That’s when I understand. We are at their father’s house.
“I wish he were dead.” His eyes flash. “They wish he were dead. He deserves to be dead.”
I watch as he seems to shudder with a rage I’ve never seen in him before. His face is flushed. I know I’m watching a transformation and that it’s out of my power to reason with him. I watch as he reaches around to the backseat, his hand fumbling as if for something he’s just remembered. Then I see that he’s got a hold of a baseball bat.
I stare at Zach and feel all my senses come alive. I grab the arm that’s not holding the bat with both of my hands.
“Oh Jesus. F*ck, no, Zach! You’re out of your mind. This is not the answer.”
“It is. You know it is. This son of a bitch is out of his mind. You heard what he did to them! You heard it! He f*cking terrorized them. This sick f*ck is not going to take anything else from those kids. They all want him gone; you know they do.” He pulls his arm from me and gets out of the car, leaving it running. He is gone before I have time to think. I sit unmoving in my seat. I understand what Zach is feeling. Their father’s death would bring a degree of peace and justice that nothing else can. But this is crazy. There’s some part of me that doesn’t believe it is happening. I force myself to breathe. I know I have to move. I should stop this. Or I could let this be over in a few minutes. It’s hard to think, and I struggle for too long before I get out of the car.
But the moment I open the door, I start to run down the driveway. Zach has parked a good distance from the house. My feet are pounding, and my heart is racing, but I don’t know that I’m going to be in time to stop him. I run hard. This is not the answer, and it’s not what Chris would want. As I run, I am overwhelmed with a sense of familiarity. The smell, the sound of the water here …
I find Zach standing outside the front of the house. An Adirondack chair on the deck faces the ocean, and a man is sleeping in it. A plaid wool blanket covers his lap. I don’t even want to look, so I keep my back to the deck. Zach is still holding the bat, but his arm is slack by his side. Thankfully, he can’t do it, because I wouldn’t be able to stop him.
“Zach, let’s go. Now.”
“That’s him. Look how big he is. How powerful he must have been before he got sick.” Tears stream down his face. “How could he have done what he did? How?”
I can’t stop myself, and I turn to get a good look. I suddenly want to see the person who has inflicted so much pain. Who does this? Who terrorizes and belittles and scares the shit out of kids? That’s not how the world should work.
So I focus on this man who has so viciously tormented people I nearly worship. When I see his face, the shock threatens to drop me to my knees. I walk closer until I am only a few feet from him, and I am sure. I know this man.
The man asleep in the chair in front of me, I have seen him once before. He is a bit grayer now, but I know his strong jawline and the scar above his eyebrow. I know his strength and his heroism. I know how I have idealized him for years, and I know how his image has gotten me though countless nights of my own pain. I know the sound of his voice. You are safe, you are safe, you are safe, sweet girl.
I know all of this because the man who tortured the love of my life is the same man who pulled me from the ladder just before it collapsed into the burning house.