Page 111 of Water's Edge

He is so grown-up. So sure of himself. I missed all of that because I left him. It’s like the note on the back of the picture. I glance at the picture and so does he.

“I see you have my photos out.”

I nod.

“And Scotch. When did you start drinking Scotch?”

“It’s a police thing.” I don’t tell him it’s to numb the pain of losing him.

I forget the pain in my ribs. My heart hurts worse. “Hayden, I’m so sorry. I truly am.”

He looks up at the tall ceilings and sees the cobwebs, I’m sure. I’m not much of a housekeeper. I don’t want to tell him it’s because our mother treated me like a slave. I did everything while she coddled him. I held it against him when I was younger, but then I started to become his mother. I loved him more than she ever did.

As he turns his head I see a scar under his chin that runs to the back of his jaw. “You were hurt.”

He puts a finger on the scar. “Want to see?”

“Yes,” I say, but my voice is so weak, I’m not sure I actually said it. I can feel tears threaten to come.

He turns sideways and pulls his T-shirt collar down. Another scar, this one the size of a half dollar, mars the skin at the nape of his neck near his spine. I could cover the one in the front with the tip of my pinky.

“I love you, Hayden.”

He looks at the pictures on the desk again. “I guess that’s why you left me. Because you loved me so much.”

His words are angry, accusing, but his face is a mask. His eyes give away nothing.

“I wrote you. Dozens of times. You never answered. Not once.”

“I didn’t need your emails,” he says. “What I needed—what I need—is a family. I’ve found that in my foster parents. You have never been there for me. You promised me.”

I can feel a tear slide down my face. I can’t stop it. He’s right and I hate myself more than he could possibly hate me. I start to say I’m sorry again but hold it inside. It’s meaningless in the face of all his pain. I should be ecstatic with joy that he is here at all, but he really isn’t here. Not in any meaningful way. He is here to punish me, and I know I deserve it, but I gave everything to protect him. I was almost killed trying to protect him. I wanted so bad to tell him the truth, but I can see now it wouldn’t matter. His hurt runs too deep.

So does mine.

The tears are coming freely now, and I hate myself for letting it happen in front of him. I was his only family. And I abandoned him. He wasn’t old enough, didn’t know the truth, and I couldn’t tell him.

His stare is a hard one.

“Look,” I say, “I’ve thought of you every day.”

He doesn’t speak.

I go for broke. “Please stay and let me make this right. Please.”

“Did you ever think about me when you left?” he asks.

“You know that I did.”

“I don’t know that, Rylee. All I know is that you left me with Aunt Ginger, a perfect stranger.”

“She was our aunt.”

Was is the right word.

“Can we not discuss this right now?”

“What else are we going to talk about, Rylee? Mom?”

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