Page 24 of Salvation
“Hi.”
A beat of silence passes where neither of us says anything.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
And yet, it’s the only thing in my life that feels safe. Stable. My whole life, I’ve craved love and a family, and with Brecks, I can have that. He loves me—in his own way—and I love him in mine. It’s enough. He’s enough. He’s what I want.
My stomach churns again.
“I need to tell you something.” My voice wavers, burning my throat, but I blink away the tears. Now is not the time to break.
Another pause, and then a sigh. “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something. Better yet, why don’t you just come home, and you can tell me then.”
Sadness stings my eyes, but another emotion burns brighter. It started the first day I read my grandmother’s letter, and it’s been slowly building, bubbling under my skin until this moment. Now it rages like an inferno, burning me alive.
“I’m not coming home, Brecks,” I bite out, taking a piece of that anger out on him. It’s not his fault, but I’m so tired of falling in line, following the path everyone else wants me to.
“What do you mean you’re not coming home, Ivy?” Brecks asks, and it’s obvious he’s holding back his temper. “We’re getting married.”
He’s right. We are, but I don’t know that we should be. He should have been the first person I wanted to call when I read my grandmother’s letter, but he wasn’t. Instead, it was a boy I loved sixteen years ago, and maybe it’s because we share that history. It was just as much his to know as it was mine, but something inside me screams that’s not it.
I don’t love Campbell anymore. I can’t. Too many years have passed. But I’m not sure I love Brecks, either. My grandparents pushed us together. I thought he would be awful—stuck up like the rest of the people they socialized with—but somewhere along the way, he became my friend. But is friendship enough to marry? To spend the rest of your life with someone?
I don’t know. I know it’s safer, and maybe that’s good enough.
“I have a daughter, B.”
“Take that to my office, please,” Brecks says, talking to someone on the other end. This is part of the problem. Brecks is a great guy, but he’s never treated me like I’m the sun his world revolves around. “I know you have a daughter, Ivy. We’ve talked about this. What happened back then was awful, but what does this have to do with you coming home?”
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No. I mean, she’s alive. I have a daughter, and she’s alive.”
The truth is out, but it doesn’t set me free. People must be lying when they say that because it feels like I’m deeper in my cage than ever.
“What?”
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. Scorched from the bitter truth in my mouth.
I have a daughter, and she’s alive.
“They lied, B. She’s alive. Why? Why would they lie?”
“I’m sure they had their reasons, Ivy.”
Another stitch pops, ripping open the wound with such force it takes my breath away. The ring on my finger digs into my skin, and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I need it off.
Off. Off. Off.
Pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear, I rip it off and sling it across the room. It lands against the floor with a clink, and I suck in deep breaths, trying to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
This is the problem. Brecks is my friend, but never more than a puppet to my grandparents. He never questioned them, and even now—with something this big—it’s still the same.
“I’m not coming home, Brecks,” I say, my voice resigned, and he doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t fightforme.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
______________________
