Page 128 of Bossy Hero

For a long time, neither of us speaks. I barely move.

Once I recenter my emotions, I kiss him on the chest and whisper, “I also had a revelation tonight. Sammy told me something about how I was with Travis. I had no memory of it, Alan. None.”

His thumb skims up and down my back. “What was it, baby?”

“She said I often told them to run and hide from their father. And to always stay together.”

“Was Sammy upset about that?”

“No. She wasn’t. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“Then what is? Simply that you didn’t remember doing it?”

“Partially. Because if I don’t remember that, what else might I have suppressed?”

“I’d imagine quite a bit,” he says without so much as a hint of judgment in his tone.

“She told me something else I did,” I admit, my voice trembling.

After squelching the rising shame, I tell him what she said about provoking Travis to spare the kids. And how Leo learned it from me. My tears are falling onto his chest by the time I’ve gotten it all out.

He holds me tighter, intrinsically knowing I need his comfort now more than ever. “You don’t remember doing any of that?”

“Yes and no. It isn’t that I don’t remember doing that, per se. Rather, it’s as if the wayI view my actions differs from how she does. I didn’t see it as something I did to protect my children. Not in the moment, nor when looking back on those dark days. As much as it shames me to admit this, I don’t recall being protective in any way. Does that make sense?”

“You were following your mama bear instincts. You protected your cubs in the only way you could. The only way you knew.”

“Mama bear, huh?” A smile threatens to break through my overwhelming sorrow. “I wish.”

“Maddie, the grizzly bear has always been a part of you. I saw it in your eyes the first night we met.”

He sounds so serious. The poor thing believes his little delusions. Adorable.

When I don’t respond, he says, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I mean.” I attempt a shrug, but it’s impossible in this position. “Of all the things you could see in me, the spirit of abearis one of the most far-fetched. I’m more like one of those goats that freezes when it’s startled. You know, the ones that flop onto the ground like a statue?”

His chest vibrates with echoes of a laugh. “You’re the farthest thing from one of those, Maddie. You’re a fucking grizzly.”

“A bear wouldn’t do what I did, Alan. A bear wouldn’t let their partner beat them and their children for that long. A bear would have fought back.”

“You just told me you did fight back. Your instincts had you drawing the fire to protect the kids. You taught them to hide and stay together for a reason. That’s what a mama bear would do. Gather up her cubs and hide them. Try to fight until she couldn’t anymore. Then she’d hide too.”

Voice quaking, I protest. “I hid, though. I remember hiding. I always hid from him.”

He nudges me. “Maddie, look at me.”

Reluctantly, I do as he asks, moving my head from his chest to the pillow beside him.

He rolls onto his side to face me. “What does a bear do when the environment is too unforgiving or they’re in danger? How does a bear survive?”

“Alan, I’m not a?—”

He leaves me no room to object. “They climb trees to escape danger and don’t come down until it’s safe. And when things are especially bad, they find a den and hide. They hibernate until the world is a safer place for them. That’s what you were doing, Maddie. You didn’t freeze like a fucking goat. You hid your kids and tried to fight him off. Thenyouhid. You were following your instincts.”

Through the crushing waves of memories and emotions evoked by his assessment, another vision rings a bell in the recesses of my mind.

Mama. Not a mama bear, but my own mother. Huddling Tilly and me together in the closet. Or in the corner of the garage under a tarp. Or in the shed. Back seat of the car on the floorboard under a blanket. A dozen other places.

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