Without Merit

It makes me smile.

I don’t want to be smiling at him, so I grab a slice of pizza and walk to my room with it, then close the door.



An hour later, Moby is asleep, I’ve washed the pizza off myself and almost everyone in the family is seated in the living room together for the first time in years. Utah is pacing the floor, waiting on my father to join us. I’m on the couch between Sagan and Luck. I mostly scoot toward Luck so that not too many parts of me are touching Sagan. Honor and Victoria have taken both the recliners.

When my father finally does walk into the room, he doesn’t sit down. He leans against the wall near Jesus Christ and folds his arms over his chest.

Utah inhales a deep breath, like he’s nervous.

He can’t be as nervous as I am. I know I’m trying to play it cool, but my stomach has been in knots since he walked through the door an hour ago. I don’t want to talk about this, and I especially don’t want to talk about it in front of the entire family. I guess that’s what happens when you lay everything out in the open with a letter, though.

Utah wrings his hands together and then shakes them out, still pacing the living room. Now that we’re all here, he finally comes to a pause. Right in front of me.

I don’t look up at him. I just want him to hurry up and say his lame apology so we can all move on and continue to pretend that it didn’t happen.

“I feel like I owe everyone an explanation,” he says. He begins pacing again, but I stare at my hands, clasped in front of me. I still have black nail polish on my thumb nails, left over from last month, so I pick at it.

“I was thirteen,” he says. “Merit was twelve. And it’s true . . . everything she said. But that’s not who I am. I was a kid, and it was stupid, and I’ve regretted doing it since the moment it happened.”

“Then why did you do it?” I snap. I’m shocked at the anger in my voice as I continue chipping away at the polish on my thumb.

“I was confused,” he says. “My friends would come to school every day and talk about girls. We were all hitting puberty and our hormones were crazy, but I didn’t care about the girls. All I could think about were the boys. I thought something was wrong with me.”

He pauses in front of me again, and I know he’s looking down at me, wanting me to make eye contact with him. I can’t. He eventually begins pacing again.

“I thought maybe if I kissed a girl it would fix me. But I was a kid, and I didn’t know the first thing about kissing or girls. All I knew was that there was one person I wanted to kiss, and according to society, I wasn’t supposed to want to kiss Logan.”

I finally lift my eyes to watch Utah speak for a moment. He isn’t looking at me. He’s still pacing.

“I had written Logan a letter that day, telling him I liked him. He showed everyone at his lunch table and then called me a queer when we were walking out of the cafeteria. I was so upset after that. I didn’t want to be queer, I didn’t want to like Logan. I just wanted to be what I thought was normal. So that night, I didn’t even think about the consequences of what I was doing. I was desperate to fix myself, so I made Merit kiss me, hoping it would . . . I don’t know. Cure me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to go back to that moment, and I don’t want to hear his excuses.

“As soon as it happened, I knew I had done something terrible. She ran out of my bedroom, and I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I was disgusted with myself. Disgusted by what I did to Merit. And I’ve spent every day since then regretting it. Trying to make up for it.”

I shake my head, trying to hold back my tears. “You’re a liar,” I say, finally looking up at him. “You haven’t done a damn thing to make up for it! You never explained yourself and you’ve never once apologized to me!”

The tears have made an appearance, so I swipe at them angrily.

“Merit,” Utah says.

I suck in air through my nose and then force it back out. It’s an angry sound.

“Please look at me.”

I fall back against the couch and look up at him. He actually looks remorseful, but he has had an entire day to practice this speech. He squeezes the back of his neck and then squats down in front of me so that we’re at eye level. I fold my arms over my chest and hug myself.

“I am so sorry,” he says. “Every day, every hour, every second since then I’ve regretted that moment. And I’ve never apologized because . . .” He looks down at the floor for a moment. When he lifts his eyes back to mine, there are tears in them. “I was hoping you forgot. Praying you forgot. If I had known how much it affected you I would have done everything I could to make up for it and I mean that, Merit. The fact that you remember and you’ve been angry at me all these years . . . I can’t even tell you how much regret I have.”

A tear slides down my chin and lands on my arm. I wipe it away with the sleeve of my shirt.

“Merit, please,” he says, his voice desperate. “Please tell them I have never done anything even remotely inappropriate since that day.” He looks over at Honor and stands up. “You, too, Honor. Tell them,” he says, waving toward my father.

Honor nods and looks at my father. “He’s telling the truth, Dad. He’s never touched me.”

My father looks at me and I nod, too, but I can’t speak yet. Too many emotions are caught in my throat. But I can tell by the look on my father’s face that he wants to make sure I’m okay with Utah moving back in.

Everyone is looking at me now, even Utah.

I nod and manage to choke out a quiet “I believe him.”

The room is quiet for a moment. Victoria eventually stands up. “Okay, then.” She begins walking toward the kitchen, when she turns around and says, “I’d appreciate it if you all would clean up this damn mess you made.”

Luck laughs under his breath. Utah faces me and mouths “Thank you.”

I look away from him, because I don’t want him to think I’m doing him any favors. I can’t just let go of years of anger simply because he finally apologized.

“Meeting adjourned,” my father says, clapping his hands together. “You heard your stepmother. Clean up your mess.”

The meeting may be adjourned, but this is just one of many issues that needs addressing in this family.



We spend the next fifteen minutes cleaning the kitchen in silence. I don’t think any of us really know what to say. It was a very sobering family meeting. The Vosses aren’t used to so much honesty in one day.

“How did pizza sauce end up on the window?” Luck asks, wiping the glass with a wet rag. “Looks like I missed a good fight.”

I close the dishwasher once it’s loaded and hit the Start button. Honor washes her hands in the sink next to me. “I’ve got pizza sauce in my bra,” she says. “I’m gonna go shower.”