Page 81 of The Witness

“My father thinks her never having repercussions for her bad behavior is why…” I shrugged.

“You know that’s not true.” She squeezed my hand.

“My mother thinks we, Dad and I, were too hard on her. And I think we all failed her.” I stopped and picked up a seashell. I held it in my fist a moment, then chucked it out into the water.

Sabrina took a few steps away from the water’s edge and sat. She looped her arms around her drawn-up knees. “Join me.”

I eased down into the sand. The surface was hot under my bare feet, but I dug down and found cool wet sand to bury my toes in. The waves that rolled in from the horizon before they broke into white foam were blue green only a few shades different from Sabrina’s eyes.

“I went off to college and when I’d come back, she’d changed. She’d always been a troublemaker, but this was worse. I tried to talk to her. She pushed me away. It was easy to forget my little sister’s problems while I was going to frat parties and cramming for exams. When I graduated, I moved home. It was supposed to be temporary between undergrad and grad school. I stayed for years trying to help get through to her.”

“Unless she wanted to get sober, no one could force her. Working in kitchens, I’ve lost friends and colleagues to addictions of all kinds. The ones that struggle and make it through to the other side all took the first step on their own.” She put a hand on my upper leg. It didn’t weigh more than a butterflywing, but it anchored me in the moment as I dredged up my past. I welcomed the tether. It helped give me perspective.

“Yeah. Marney wasn’t good at the hard stuff. Dad or I would get her checked into a rehab, and as soon as it got difficult, Mom would get her out. Or when she was older, she’d check herself out. It was a circle that never ended. Eventually I gave up.” Acknowledging my failure opened a gaping hole deep in my chest. I rubbed my hand over the ache under my sternum.

“You didn’t give up. You did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough. She was my responsibility.” And I’d been trying to make it up to Marney by helping every desperate woman that stumbled into my path since. I was a fucking idiot.

“God, Michael, I wish I had a Band-Aid big enough to fix your family.” She put her hand over the spot I’d been rubbing. “But grief doesn’t work like that. Trust me. It’s a process.”

“I should have stayed in Miami instead of going back to school. I could hav—”

She put a finger over my lips, stopping me in the middle of my sentence.

“No. Don’t play that game. Down that road lies misery. But I’m guessing I don’t have to tell you that.”

I shook my head. My family had trod that path so many times and many ways we had our own road maps. Screaming fights, hurled accusations, ugly words, and tears.

“Have any of you gone to a therapist?”

“No.”

“You should try it.” She said it so sweetly, like offering a bite of something really delicious I might enjoy. “Then, if the past gets less awful, tell your mom about it. Maybe she’ll find someone to talk to. Eventually, the two of you might even convince Tom.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and gave my leg a reassuring squeeze. I tipped my head over to rest it against hers. We sat like that for a while, watching the waves. The ends of herhair blew against my neck and cheek. The smell of her shampoo mixed with the scents of salt and sand.

“You can’t force someone to take the first step.” Her voice was sincere.

I knew unless I brought this up again, she never would. She’d given me her opinion. It was my choice to take her advice or not. The gaping hole in my chest started to close up. The familiar scab crusted over it. It would be easy to leave it alone. Let the past stay in the past.

“I know. We all tried to force Marney.” The difference was Sabrina wouldn’t force me.

She patted my leg again.

“There is a saying that you can’t love someone until you love yourself,” I said. I wasn’t saying I had to be perfect before I could love Sabrina. But I was one hundred percent sure dealing with my past would make me that much better of a partner. It was time to hang up the superhero cape.

Sabrina deserved a version of me that didn’t worry deep down I was a failure. Hell, every woman I’d dated over the last fifteen years had deserved that. And being honest, I deserved that too.

“I’ve heard that before.” She sat up and turned to look me in the eye. One hand cradled my jaw. Her fingers were cold from the sea breeze, and I hoped the same wind was to blame for the liquid glistening on her spikey eyelashes. No one should cry on Christmas.

It was too soon to say it out loud, but I knew. I’d felt it this morning moving inside her. And I felt it now. It had been ages since I loved anyone; I wasn’t sure I remembered how to do it. But for the chance to be with Sabrina, I’d figure it out.

I lowered my head to brush my lips over hers. She tasted of salt spray and the future.

“Sorry I messed up Christmas,” I said, wrapping my arm over her shoulders.

“Are you serious? The weather is amazing, this beach is great. So quiet compared to Miami. And it can’t be past noon. Ruined Christmas, ha! We’ve barely started the day.” She dug her cell phone out of her back pocket and tapped the screen a few times. “Selfie?”

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