Page 29 of We Are All Guilty Here

Emmy said, “I looked for Madison when I came out. After the fireworks were over, I looked for her. You saw me with Brett. I asked him and Vanna if they’d seen her because I—”

“Because you ignored Madison so you could hide in the toilet and cry over Jonah Fucking Lang.”

“That’s not—”

“Not what? Accurate? That’s not the exact same thing you’ve been doing since that worthless jackass sat down at our lunch table in middle school?” Hannah didn’t wait for a response. She took an aggressive step forward. “Do you know why you don’t remember Ruth Baker telling me that Madison might be the problem?”

Emmy felt the spit leave her mouth. “I—”

“Because the next day, Jonah charged 800 dollars on your credit card for a new amp for his guitar, and you went insane. You slept here on our couch. Do you remember that? We sat at the kitchen table right down that hall talking about how you were going to leave him. Making plans. Drawing up a budget. Compiling a list of things to take to your mother’s house. Did you leave him?”

Emmy forced herself not to look away. “No.”

“No, you didn’t leave him. And you could have. You make the money. You own the house. You own the car. You’d get full custody of Cole. All you’d have to do is lay down your Clifton Card at the courthouse and they’d give you whatever you want.”

“Hannah—”

“And if youhadleft him, your head wouldn’t have been up your ass today when Madison needed you.”

“That’s not—”

“You didn’t talk to Madison because you were upset with Jonah. That’s exactly what you just said. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Emmy took a stuttered breath. “P-please, I—”

“You what?” Hannah demanded. “Jesus fucking Christ, Em! How many times has Jonah disappointed you? How many times has he pissed you off? Argued with you? Fought out in the open with you? Humiliated you? Lied to you? Fucked with you? Totaled your car. Cheated on you when you were pregnant. Abandoned you when you went into labor with Cole. Even pushed you down the stairs! And the one time—theone time—my girl looks for you, needs to talk to you, when she actually stands at the top of the hill waiting for you, then follows you around the bleachers like a lost puppy, you’re too wrapped up in Jonah’s bullshit to stop and listen?”

“I-I-I’m sorry, I—”

“No!” Hannah yelled. “You’re not sorry! People who are sorry don’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again, especially with the person who’s supposed to be their best friend.”

Emmy couldn’t think what to say. She felt like her brain had filled with stinging hornets. This was horrible. They would never come back from this if she didn’t find a way to stop it. She should get on her knees. She should beg for forgiveness. Hannah was right. Everything she was saying was right.

“Look at you! You can’t even defend yourself! You know exactly what you did. You chose him—you chose that malignant, narcissistic asshole over a precious, struggling young girl.” Hannah threw up her arms, almost incandescent with rage. “She’s not just precious to me, Em. You watched her grow up, too. You love her almost as much as I do. And now she’s gone. We both know that’s true. Some hateful monster stole her away from us, and he’s probably raping her, or killing her, and you couldn’t take three seconds to stop that from happening because all you cared about was that useless piece of shit who will never love you the way you love him!”

Hannah’s voice was so loud that it echoed through the house.She looked staggered by her own words, but she was still not backing down.

She demanded, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I-I—” Emmy took another stuttered breath. “You’re right. I know I should—”

“Leave him?” Hannah huffed out air between her lips again, this time in disgust. “Fuck no, we’re not doing this again. You’re not gonna leave him. We’ve been here so many times I’ve lost count. It’s been nearly twenty years of ‘This time I’m gonna leave him. No, this time. No, this time I really mean it, Han. I promise I mean it, Han.’ It’s all bullshit! Bullshit!”

Emmy’s hands flew up to block herself as Hannah grabbed her by the shoulders, then forced her to turn around.

“Get out of my house.” Hannah pushed her into the hall. “I want you out of here. Don’t call me. Don’t email me. Don’t text me. Don’t try to talk to me. Don’t even send me a goddam letter.”

“Hannah, please—”

“You don’t love Jonah. You’re addicted to his brokenness. You can’t fix your fucked up family, so you try to fix him.” Hannah’s hands were back on her hips. “Paul and I laugh about it, you know? How you’re this badass strong bitch who carries a gun and puts criminals away, but then you go home and roll over for whatever bullshit Jonah wants.”

“Hannah, please.”

“No.” Hannah grabbed her shoulders again, forced her up the hall. “This is it for me, Emmy. I’m getting off this bus. If you see me in the street, go to the other side. If you see me in the store, turn around and go home.”

Emmy stumbled as Hannah gave her a hard push into the living room. She caught herself before her face hit the wall. Dozens of framed photographs looked back at her. Madison when she was eight and still occasionally crawled into Hannah’s lap. Paul and Madison at her middle school graduation. Madison on her bike. Madison rolling her eyes and smiling and laughing and living, and she might still be all of those things if only Emmy had stopped to listen to her.

Hannah swung open the front door. “Get out.”

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