Page 70 of You Will Never Be Me

I nod through my tears. We say a few other things and end the live stream. I squeeze Liv’s hand. “Thank you for doing that. That was amazing.”

Before Liv can answer, there’s a small voice at the door. “Mommy?” My heart stops.

Noemie is standing at the door. The door that I had left cracked open so I could hear if any of the kids needed me. I jump up and plaster on a smile. “Hi, honey, is everything o—”

“Was that pretending?” she says, her eyes wide and scared.

I kneel down in front of her. This is the part I dreaded the most. But it’s inevitable, and it’s better if it comes from me than their friends at school. While I think of the right words to say, words that could soften the blow, Noemie says, “Is it because you’re mad at me?”

“What? No, Mommy isn’t mad at you. Why would I be mad atyou?” Noemie’s little face scrunches up, and she begins bawling. I gather her in my arms. “Oh my gosh, sweetie, I promise, I’m not mad at you. I can never be mad at you. You are my perfect little angel.”

“I’m not!” she cries. “I did something bad.”

“Oh, honey. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“I messed up your calendar.”

I freeze. “What?”

“You were going to meet with that Netflix person and have a reality show about us, and I didn’t want to be on a reality show, Mommy. I don’t want people to see me getting my shots every day,” Noemie says through her sobs.

“Oh god.” I swear my soul is tearing itself apart like tissue paper.

“I heard you tell Daddy that your calendar got all messed up somehow, so that gave me the idea to do it. I went onto the family calendar, but I didn’t know which one was the Netflix person, so I…”

“Changed the dates on all my meetings,” I say.

“And when I told Elea, she said we should do more.”

The pit in my stomach goes even deeper. “You sent a text to them telling them I wasn’t interested in working together?”

Noemie nods.

“How did you even—how?”

“When we tapped on each appointment, it showed us their phone numbers and email addresses and we just…” Her voice trails off.

You’re not even seven years old, I want to shout.You’re not supposed to be doing shit like this already!But at the end of the day, the fault is all mine. I was the one who pushed them in front ofthe camera. Sure, it may have been necessary, but I should’ve seen this coming.

Noemie’s face crumples up again. “I’m sorry, Mommy!” she wails.

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” I manage to say.

“But it’s not! You’re punishing me now. You’re taking Daddy away.”

“No!” I say quickly, stroking her little back. Oh god, they can’t think that. They can’t. “Listen to me, Noemie, I am not doing this to punish you. Your daddy has done something really, really bad, and I had to tell the truth about it.”

“But what’s going to happen to him?”

I brace myself. “It’s out of my hands now. He did something terrible, and he has to pay for it.”

Noemie wails, “Is he going to prison?”

I nod. “Yes. But we’ll be okay. Because I’m not going anywhere. I will always be here for you girls. Mommy will take care of everything.” I hug her tight and feel her breaking in my arms, and I make a promise to myself that despite this moment, despite the hurricane that is about to sweep us all up, my kids are going to come out the other end okay. They will be scarred, there’s no avoiding that, but they will end up stronger for it.

31

I thought I was ready forthis, but when the officer brings Ben out, he looks so awful that I actually gasp out loud. Ben has always been a vain man—always took care to do his hair just right and keep his jaw clean-shaven. Back home, the cabinet in the bathroom has a whole shelf of products dedicated to keeping him looking great. He said it was important, in his line of work, to look good. But now, his skin is sallow and greasy, his facial hair is left sprouting unevenly, and his hair is a tangled mop. When he sees me, his jaw clenches. He lowers himself to the chair behind the screen and picks up the phone.

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