Page 55 of One Last Regret

She gazes out the window, a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisces. “I forgave Marcel. Not really, but enough to stay with him. For his part, he was smart enough never to cross me like that again. As for Debra—that was the name she used when she was with us—she left five minutes after I exposed her. I’ll never forget the look she gave me before she left. The hate. The hurt. As though I was somehow in the wrong for the fact that she was underneath my husband half of the time she was in the house.”

She starts and lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was… I suppose I don’t know for sure that she was your sister.”

“It was,” I reply. “I’m sure of it.”Unfortunately.

She nods once, slowly. “Well, I’m sorry if I’ve painted a picture of her you’d rather not see. But I felt you had the right to know. Your hunch wasn’t baseless. She was here. She was my husband’s lover, though I use the term as loosely as possible.”

I sip my coffee. It's gone cold. I set the cup on the table and sigh. "I came here looking for truth. I'm grateful to have found it, no matter how painful it is."

She laughs. “Well, if so, you’re a better woman than me.”

I tense slightly. “I don’t suppose you know where she went when she left?”

She shakes her head. “No idea. I know Marcel tried to call her once after she left, but when I found out, I smashed the phone and told him if I caught him calling that—callingheragain—I would leave him. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m only sorry that my sister hurt you as well.”

She sighs, and her shoulders relax. "You know, it's strange. I remember feeling angry with her. I remember hating her. But now, when I try to feel the same hate… I just can't. It's too much work. Is that odd?"

I don’t know how to answer that. It takes me no work at all to hate my mother, and I watched her die in her bed. So I have to make up a response. “I think you’ve managed to overcome the pain you’ve suffered. I think that you chose to rise above, and I think you should choose to stay above.”

“And you? What will you do?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Josephine, I truly wish I knew.” I stand. “I think I’ll go to bed too. Thank you for talking to me.”

“Thank you for listening. I hope that telling you this hasn’t put you off of visiting us.”

“Of course not. You still owe me a Mardi Gras.”

She grins. “You’ll get it. Good night, Mary.”

“Good night, Josephine.”

As I head upstairs, my smile vanishes. When I finally close my eyes, I see my sister’s mischievous smile. Her eyes above that smile dance with mirth, but at the same time, they are hard and cold.

Our mother’s eyes.

EPILOGUE

I don’t realize how drained I am emotionally until I collapse into Sean’s arms and immediately burst into tears. He wraps me up and holds me close, saying nothing until my shoulders stop shaking, and I end my weeping with a deep, cleansing breath. Then he says, “All right now, love?”

“Well enough,” I say.

“Good. Because I have completely forgotten to make dinner and had to order takeout Chinese instead.”

I laugh and kiss his cheek. “I love takeout Chinese.”

"A fact for which I am eternally grateful. Come on. It's all set in the living room. I have four movies queued, and not one of them was released after 1970."

He walks away, holding my hand. I squeeze his hand and remain where I am. He turns around and lifts an eyebrow. “Yes, Miss Wilcox?”

I blush and glance toward the stairs. His eyebrow lifts higher. “Ah. Well, if you insist.”

Two hours later, we start the first movie and enjoy our lukewarm takeout Chinese. I am wearing a thick, plush robe and I am finally relaxed and completely content. Sean wears a matching robe, and judging by the expression on his face, he looks just as content as I am.

So, of course, I have to ruin it. My smile fades, and I say, "Sean… I need to tell you something."

“I knew it,” he says immediately. “You’re leaving me. That was the wonderful goodbye sex all the lads warned me about.”

---