The Row

Jordan’s muscles stiffen beside me and I rush to his defense. “Nothing, Mama! He’s not like that. He’s been helping me, that’s all.”


Jordan’s voice is slightly darker when he speaks again. “And I’ve decided I’m never going to tell anyone, so you can relax about that.”

I glance over at him, my eyebrows raised.

“It isn’t my secret to tell,” he murmurs, reaching out to squeeze my hand again under the table. I grip it when he starts to move his hand away, weaving my fingers slowly into his. His eyes are on Mama now and they stay there.

“Fine.” Mama folds her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. She is less openly hostile, but she definitely isn’t friendly. “I just hope you don’t suddenly change your mind.”

“I won’t.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for any further questions.

I turn back to Mama, thinking that now, with her guard down, might be the best time to get the answers I need from her. I try to decide on where to start.

I finally spit out the most important question my brain can settle on. “How many secrets do we have, Mama?” I watch her face contort with a bit of fear before settling back to normal.

“What do you mean?” she asks evasively. I remember what Mr. Masters said about her denial. Maybe that’s her go-to stance when facing truths that she can’t handle. She protects herself externally from anything that can hurt her, even if she knows better on the inside.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me the truth about Daddy cheating on you?” I whisper, trying to brace myself for the answer, but then realizing there is no way to do that with a topic like this one.

Mama’s face immediately falls, and watching it feels like a punch to the gut. Up until that instant, some part of me hoped that there might have been some misunderstanding. That Mama would sort it out and explain how all the evidence I’d seen was some sick private joke, and we’d laugh. But then, maybe that’s just me trying to hide behind denial, too. Perhaps it’s a family trait. Now that I’ve seen her expression, the regret and pain on her face, I know for certain that my instinct was right. She knows the truth. She isn’t crazy or deluding herself, but she has been deliberately hiding this from me all along.

I slump down low in my chair, holding tight to Jordan’s hand like an anchor in a storm. I feel so confused. I’ve always believed my parents—always. Now, within the last two weeks, I’ve caught them both in their lies and it’s turned my world upside down. I’ve never been able to depend on anyone but them. Now I can’t depend on anyone but myself.

How do I find the truth in a den of liars?

“I just—I thought you probably knew, hon—” Mama starts, but I interrupt her before she can dig herself a deeper hole.

“No, you didn’t. Do not feed me any more lies!” I expect my words to come out as a shout. Instead they’re a hoarse whisper. “You knew I didn’t know, because you made sure I didn’t, Mama.”

Her expression is rapidly flipping through a variety of emotions: indignation, anger, sorrow, guilt, frustration, and finally defeat. “I was trying to protect you, Riley. You need to understand. You were so little, and it’s so hard because we know Stacia. If we want to get your daddy out of this mess, we need her help—”

“Stacia?”

Mama’s mouth closes.

“Daddy’s assistant? The one we’ve had over for dinner? Talked to? Laughed with?” My voice creaks with a desperation for her to say she meant something else—someone else—anyone else.

Mama’s skin pales to the color of the white kitchen cabinets behind her as she realizes she’s just dropped a bomb into the center of my world. And now there is no way for her to stop it from going off. Distantly, I feel Jordan’s hand frantically squeezing mine under the table like he’s trying to give it CPR.

But I may never recover from this kind of destruction.

My urge to argue that this couldn’t be true fades as I realize with a sinking feeling that it makes perfect sense. How they always “worked” late together. How she has been just as committed to proving his innocence as we were. She’d even been to visit him at Polunsky every week. He’d told us that she was assisting him with his case. He said she was the go-between for him and Masters, but maybe they’d just been carrying on the emotional aspect of their affair this entire time.

“He cheated on you with Stacia?” I repeat, feeling the weight of Jordan’s worried gaze glued to me. I’m glad I’m already sitting down, as my thoughts feel like someone replaced my brain with a blender.

“Oh, God.” Mama lowers her head slowly to the table. A muffled sob escapes before she continues. “I never told you because I was trying to protect you.”

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