“But I don’t remember any violence,” he says, sounding confused. “I’ve spoken to Doreen about what happened back then, and she didn’t mention our father being violent, either.”
“He probably wasn’t violent to her. He loved her. And besides, she didn’t know everything.”
“But surely, I’d have noticed?” he says.
Lindsay shakes her head. “I hid it from you for as long as I could.”
“What does that mean?”
She leans in to the man beside her, like this part of her story is going to be hard to tell… although how it can be harder than what’s gone before, I don’t know.
“It means that one evening, he beat me so badly, he broke four of my ribs. Ella was asleep in bed, and the two of you were playing in different parts of the house. None of you saw or even heard what he’d done, but I knew I had to get out. So, I waitedfor him to leave, then I called a cab, took the three of you, and went to the hospital.”
“You mean it was real?” Hunter says, his voice barely audible.
Lindsay looks confused. “What was real?”
“The reason you went to the hospital.”
“Of course it was real.”
“I—I remember being at the hospital, but I thought you’d faked an accident, so you could get away,” Hunter says, shaking his head.
Lindsay lets out a sigh. “I’d never have done something like that. And it wasn’t an accident, believe me. When he arrived late that afternoon, I stupidly thought he’d come home to spend Thanksgiving with us. In fact, it transpired he needed some documents to do with the money Ken had taken. I think his intention was to go straight back to the city, once he’d found them. The problem was, he’d misplaced them, and he blamed me. There was nothing accidental about what he did next.” Lindsay pauses, taking a breath. “I remember, I was lying on the kitchen floor, and he was standing over me. I honestly thought he was gonna kill me, but he didn’t. He left. That was when I took my chance.”
“You mean, that was when you called the cab?” Hunter asks, his face pale.
“Yes. I don’t know how I made it to the phone, but I did, and when we got to the ER, they took the three of you to a room and called the police. Unfortunately, your father arrived first. No-one ever explained how he knew where we were. I’ve always assumed he came back here for some reason, found we’d gone and put two and two together. I guess I’ll never know the truth of that, and it doesn’t matter. The fact is, once he arrived, he took over. He persuaded the hospital staff I had mental health problems. He told them I was having a breakdown, that I was sosick, I didn’t even know how old I was. I didn’t realize, but he’d taken away my driver’s license. I don’t know when he did that. It could have been that day, at the hospital, or some time before. All I know is, when they queried my date of birth for the third time, and I told them to check on my driver’s license, it wasn’t there. I had no other identification on me, and somehow he convinced them this was part of my ‘illness’. He claimed I was taking medication for my supposed mental health issues and that the drugs affected my memory, which was why I’d given them the wrong date of birth. According to him, I was really four years older than I was claiming to be. He was friends with the mayor and a few prominent businessmen, and he wasn’t averse to dropping their names into the conversation, while he lied and said he’d seen it all before. He said I was delusional, that I’d inflicted the injuries on myself by throwing myself down the stairs, and that he was scared for my safety, because things seemed to have escalated more quickly than usual. The police arrived, and he repeated the story to them, adding that he was concerned for the welfare of his children… that he was worried I’d hurt the three of you next. I denied it all, but he had an answer for everything, and somehow whatever he said sounded more plausible. Before I knew it, someone came and strapped me to the bed. They were talking about sedatives and hospitalizing me, even while I was screaming at them to let me see my children. It all happened so fast after that, I can’t remember the chain of events very clearly. I just remember crying, begging them to let me see you all, and being given an injection, which made everything go hazy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Drew says. “Hunter was right… at least in part.”
I look up. “What do you mean?”
He glances over at his brother, who’s standing, his head bowed, clearly in shock. “Hunter has always maintained that Mom didn’t want to leave… that Dad drove her away.”
“N—Not like this,” Hunter says, his voice cracking. “I thought it was his behavior that made Mom leave… of her own free will.”
“I know,” Drew says. “And all my life, I wanted to believe you. You’re the only one who remembers any of it, and I so wanted it to be true. I thought it was wishful thinking on your part. I thought you weren’t willing to face up to what had happened… to the memories of Mom walking out on us.” He shakes his head, averting his gaze to his mother. “Now, I wish you had,” he says. “I wish you’d just left us.”
“Why?” She’s horrified by his suggestion.
“Because he’d tortured you enough already. He’d abused you in so many ways. But to do that to you… to take your children by force…” He lets his voice fade and turns, stroking Maisie’s head, the concept more real to him than any of us.
“I would never have left you, if he hadn’t made me,” Lindsay says with more strength in her voice than I’ve heard all evening, and I look up at Drew.
“Are you okay?” I whisper. He nods, although he doesn’t answer, and just stares deep into my eyes. “I love you.”
“Even after hearing that? Even after knowing where I come from?”
“Yes. You’re not your father, Drew. And I love you more than ever for being you.”
***
Drew
I smile down at Josie, grateful she’s here to support me. I need her tonight, more than I think I ever have… because the last twenty minutes have been the most shocking of my life.
I thought regaining my memory was the worst thing that could happen to me. Having to re-live the accident and knowing there was nothing I could do to prevent it, or to save my baby girl… that was horrendous. But this…?