Page 142 of The Island

“What’s up, Owen?”

“Please sit—if we stand here for a long time, they’ll see us,” he said.

“OK.”

She and Olivia both sat down in the long grass.

“I don’t want you to make this deal,” Owen said.

“I don’t want to make it either, but it’s the only way we can get your dad back.”

He was struggling with his words.

She waited.

“I—I want to stay with you. I don’t want Dad back,” Owen said.

“What are you talking about?” Heather asked.

“You know I build this wall in my head out of Minecraft bricks. And I hide stuff behind it that I don’t want to think about or see ever again,” Owen said.

“I know.”

“Sometimes I hide behind the wall, and sometimes I hide things back there that I don’t want to see again.”

“Sure.”

“And if you build the wall thick enough and high enough, you forget what’s back there.”

“It’s fine, Owen, it’s a coping mechanism. You and your sister have been through so much in the past year. Lord knows—”

“No. You don’t get what I’m saying. Neither of you do. You don’t know what’s behind the wall. Neither did I, really. Or anyway, I didn’t want to think about it. But my head’s been clear lately. At least since we got the water.”

“Well, that’s good, Owen, it—”

“Please just listen. What did Dad tell you about what happened to Mom?” Owen asked.

“That it was just an accident, that’s all. Your mom was a very brave woman. All those years with MS. And then when she began to deteriorate…looking after you guys, doing her work. She sounds like she was an amazing person.”

“What did Dad tell you exactly about the accident?” Owen asked.

Heather began to feel cold again.

“What he told everyone. He found her. She fell down the stairs. She’d been unsteady on her feet.”

“He left out the bit about the drinking?”

Heather nodded. “Yes…well, no, he told me the truth eventually. I don’t blame your mom. I’d drink too if I got diagnosed with something like that. It’s not her fault. She was a good mom and she was trying to cope.”

“My mom didn’t drink. Not heavily. And she didn’t commit suicide either.”

“I know, sweetie! Those are just rumors. People are going to say awful things.”

“He’s the one who said the awful things. He started those rumors. He wanted people to think that she was drinking too much and that she was suicidal.”

“No, that’s—” Heather began but Owen waved her off.

“Mom wasn’t that like that,” Owen said. “It was him…”

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