Page 147 of Forget Me Not

I freeze. I know that fucking voice.

“It’s Anne.”

Slowly, I sink to the couch, afraid to even breathe. My ex-mother-in-law and I haven’t spoken in years. In fact, the last time I heard from her, she told me Jack’s death had been my fault. The day of his funeral.

“Hello, Anne.”

Silence stretches between us as both of us waits for the other to speak. The angry, spiteful side of me wants to lash out, to be mean and make her feel like she made me feel for all these years.

The other side, the one numb, but right on the cusp of breaking, couldn’t care less how she feels.

“What can I help you with, Anne?”

I can hear crickets where she’s at in South Florida. It’s probably still warm there.

“I spoke to your mother the other day.”

I grind my teeth. I wasn’t aware my mother still spoke to Anne. I would have expected her to completely cut ties with her, even if she and Anne had been good friends most of their lives. There are just some lines you can’t cross and Anne did that when she told me I murdered Jack.

“I hadn’t spoken to her in a long time. She said you aren’t doing well.”

“Forgive me for being crass, but that’s none of your concern. I haven’t spoken to you since Jack died.” I know I’m being rude, but once I start letting it out, I can’t stop. Everything I’ve been pushing down for the last four years is rising to the surface, mixing with the wine in my system and the raw, uncontrolled pain of losing Reid that’s finally starting to rear its ugly head.

I want to fight with someone. I want someone to scream at me instead of tiptoeing around like I’m on the verge of a mental collapse. Like I’m weak.

“Not since you told me I killed Jack.”

“Nova,” Anne starts, but I cut her off, continuing on with my verbal vomit rant, spewing every single thought I have at her.

“No. You don’t get to blame me because my husband drowned, okay?” Tears form in my eyes, running down my face and my voice breaks, but I don’t let myself stop. Stopping will lead to more crying and then I’ll be forced to feel the things I’ve been hiding from since September. “I was in that car too. I know you loved him. I know he was your son, but I lost him too, goddamnit, and you will not make me feel guilty because he helped me get out of that car! Not anymore.”

When a surprising sob breaks from me, another follows. I lay my head on the couch, the phone beside me, even though I think she hung up. All that I hear from her end is silence.

Good. I hope she can feel as bad as I have the last four years. I hope she feels even a semblance of the guilt I have.

“Nova,” I hear, Anne’s voice sounding like she’s crying too. It doesn’t make me feel as good as I’d hoped it would. “I did blame you. Irrationally. For a time.”

I press the phone back to my cheek, wiping the wetness from my face and sucking in a deep breath.

“Jack was my world,” she explains. “I didn’t think I could have children, so when I was blessed with him, he was everything I had ever wanted.”

She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating. When she speaks again, I think I must be dreaming, because there’s no way this woman is speaking like this. The woman who said all kinds of nasty things, who spread horrible rumors about my fidelity to the rest of Jack’s family when in fact, I was holding onto a marriage that had ended the moment he spoke to my sister.

No, not this woman.

“Losing Jack was the greatest pain of my life. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” Her voice breaks and I sit, listening in horror at my making her cry. I’m not someone who relishes in someone else’s pain. I’ve never been that person. “I realize it wasn’t your fault, Nova. There’s nothing you could have done. I know he wasn’t good. I know he did things that hurt you.”

“It is my fault,” I admit finally, the guilt that’s been wearing on me for four years finally breaking free. “I panicked and he had to help me. He couldn’t get out after that. We ran out of time.”

I shiver as memories of that night come flooding in. The cold water. The mud in my eyes and nose. The nasty, earth-flavored water in my lungs, drowning me. The distant cries of Jack’s that I imagined that weren’t real.

“No!” Anne snaps harshly, her voice ringing out like a whip into the receiver. “Don’t say that. Nova, you’re stronger than you think,” Anne says quietly, her voice as hollow as my chest feels. “Jack didn’t get you out of that car. You got you out of that car.”

“Stop.”

“No,” she rushes on. “I was there, after they pulled him out. He didn’t drown, Nova. He died from head trauma. Jack didn’t rescue you from that car that night. You rescued yourself.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

---