Page 54 of Forty

I tighten my arm around her middle, and lift her chin with my hand. She can look me in the eye while she lies.

“Just tell me the truth, Nevaeh. Tell the truth, and we can get past this. How many?”

Her gaze darts around the bathroom, like there’s answers in the corners.

“How many?”

Finally, she opens her mouth. At first, nothing comes out. I drop my arms to my side.

Then she says, “Five.”

“Five?” The word is a fist driving into my gut. “Who?”

She chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t remember their names.”

“The Rebel Raider?”

“Yes. Him.”

“Who else?”

“I don’t remember.” Tears are streaming down her face again. She’s not pretty. She just a mess. I step back.

“Why?”

She finds my eyes in the mirror. There’s hurt there. And anger. No remorse.

“The deal was one question. I answered. Do you feel better now?”

“No.”

She sighs. “Yeah. Me neither.” Then she slips past me and crawls into the bed.

I stand in the bathroom doorway for a long time, waiting for her to say something. She huddles on the far edge of the bed, silent.

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” she says, quietly. “Can you turn the light out? I’m tired.”

I flick the switch. I should go downstairs. Drink a bottle of whiskey, clear my head.

Instead, I sink down on the foot of the bed.

Nevaeh’s still sniffling every minute or so.

“We were so young.” It’s weird, talking with the lights out. How you hush your voice.

She doesn’t answer. I suppose it didn’t require a response.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“For what?” Her voice is muffled by the sheets.

“I should have asked you something else.” I mean to stop there, but there’s something about the darkness that draws the words from my mouth. “I should have asked you if you thought about me at all these past years.”

There’s a rustling of cotton. “Did you? Think about me?”

“Every day.” Despite myself. I did. A dozen times at least.

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