Page 79 of War Games

CHAPTER THIRTY

Ihad thought seeing them in Russia that I had closed the chapter on this part of my life.

I hadn’t considered that it would linger, still causing more damage.

I saw Michael and Helene Duray laughing as they watched television on the couch. Gwen and I were playing on the floor, mostly ignored.

“I thought I had left them behind,” I said again, this time out loud.

“I also like to believe I’ve left my father behind. It’s always painful to recognize that we never truly can,” Subira replied, sighing.

“You know, in Russia… they pissed me off so much, and I was so grateful to have Hasan.”

“Until he repeated a similar pattern. Which opened the wounds.”

I knew she was right.

I didn’t remember this moment in life, so I watched and waited for the quiet peace to end. My mother must have had something to do because she left, grabbing her keys to go buygroceries or whatever she did when she left the house when I was little.

My father wasted no time, calling someone and smiling.

“She’ll be gone for the night,” my father said.

“Oh, I knew long before I was ten,” I said softly as my mother’s friend walked into the house sometime later.

“Girls, go to your rooms,” our father ordered.

Gwen and I didn’t fight, but a feeling rushed through me. She was our godmother, wasn’t she? I always wondered why we didn’t see her around when she lived nearby…

Now I knew.

“I repressed knowing about the entire affair.”

“You did.”

“I told my mom at ten, but I knew years prior.”

“You did.” Subira’s simple confirmation was good, not offering more, just confirming what I was ready to think about. It was already hard enough to be here.

I saw my six-year-old self peeking out of the room, wanting something. Maybe to see my godmother, to hang out with the adults, to see if anyone would play with me and Gwen. Maybe just curiosity.

I caught them kissing. I was caught seeing them kiss.

Michael had stomped over to me, grabbed my arm, and hissed into my ear.

“You saw nothing. Do you understand?”

I felt chills down my spine.

When the child-me nodded, he practically tossed the six-year-old into the room and closed the door.

“Oh, that must have left a mark,” I said, shaking my head. “Probably was explained away as me jumping on the bed or something.”

“Correct.”

I was actually grateful she knew me better than I did.

Time passed. I watched it play out at least a dozen times as I got older. Gwen even caught on, seeing the weird things, how our mother’s friend would stay over.

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