CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CALLAN
Blame
NOW
“I don’t understand.” I keep looking at her, trying to figure out what the hell she’s talking about, but it just won’t make any sense. “You told me at the school that it was just one of those things. That sometimes women just have miscarriages. And now you’re saying it was Malcolm? He found out you were carrying my child and he beat you until you lost it?”
“Yes. And I felt so guilty. I had to leave. I was going to ask you to come with me, but…”
“But?”
“I came there that night, Callan, and your mom was so sick. You were the only one there to help her. You loved her and you were losing her. What would you have done if I’d have asked you to leave?”
“I would have talked you into staying. With me. You could have moved into the house. You know my mom wouldn’t have minded. Especially if she’d known what was happening with you. Fuck, Coralie! I can’t believe this.” She looks like she’s exhausted, worn out by her confession. Slowly she wraps one of the dustsheets around her naked body, tears chasing down her face. “I couldn’t have stayed close to that house for one more second. I couldn’t have lived here, right next door, knowing what I’d gone through in that basement. He would never have let me go. And you would have understood that. You would have come with me, Callan, and Jo needed you. You both needed each other. I couldn’t do it.”
“It wasn’t your decision to make, Coralie. Jesus. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” I get up and stalk back through to the kitchen, where I find my clothes. I put my boxers and my jeans back on, and then I take Coralie’s clothes back to her where she’s sitting on the couch, swamped by the tattered old material she’s pulled off the coffee table. She takes her bundled things from me and quickly gets dressed, not looking at me. I lean against the doorjamb, watching her, torn between screaming at her and crying. She went through that alone. She went through all of it alone, and I would have supported her. I would have taken care of her given the chance, but she chose to carry the burden on her own back, and look what happened.
“So you were here? That whole time I thought you were in New York, you were here? Next door? In the basement?”
Coralie buries her face in her hands, sobbing. Her head bobs up and down. She can’t speak. I have to rush back into the kitchen. Leaning over into the sink, I throw up, my stomach tensing, my back tensing, everything tensing as I realize what that means. She was alone. Coralie silently appears in the kitchen, still crying, though she seems to have gathered her senses. She places her hand on my back, and I turn around, catching hold of her at the wrist. “Did you ever love me? Back then?” I snap.
“Of course I did. I couldn’t breathe without you half the time, Callan.”
“Then how could you have kept me in the dark like that? How did you not trust me enough to let me keep you safe?”
She dips her head, swallowing hard. “I always trusted you, Callan. I always trusted you. Everything was so raw at the time, though, and I knew how it would affect you. Knowing the truth about what happened would have turned you inside out, and it was too late to keep me safe. I was beyond saving. And you…you were still good. You were still light. I knew losing Jo was going to be heartbreaking enough as it was. I couldn’t pile more pain and suffering onto you. I just couldn’t do it.”