Page 8 of The Monster I Loved
My fists curled around the steering wheel as I thought about how he’d used my own words against me. I started the car andturned out of the parking lot. My mind drifted back to all those years ago when I cleaned the blood from my dad’s truck—the blood of a woman I’d hugged, kissed, and loved like she was my own mother—taking breaks to vomit and cry. I took the truck to meet my dad at the bar I knew he would be at after I’d called his work and was told he hadn’t shown up.
It took only seconds for him to crack. I stared blankly at him as he confessed, as he begged me to understand and forgive him. My life with Thaddeus flashed before my eyes. It was gone. No three kids. No spooky wedding. No loving each other until we died. Dad spent hours trying to convince me it was best to keep silent, if nothing more than to keep Thaddeus. If my dad told the truth, Thaddeus would hate me. He was right. I couldn’t lose either of them. I wouldn’t go to the police. It wouldn’t bring his mom back anyway. We’d fix the truck. We’d pretend it never happened. I’d take the secret to my grave.
The police showed up at our front door that evening.
Dad and I had been watching TV. I’d been trying Thad’s cellphone since he’d hung up on me earlier that day. I was starting to get worried when there was a pounding on the door.
“POLICE!” a voice yelled through the closed door.
“Shit,” Dad said. He walked slowly to the door. “I’m coming.”
Our neighbor, Bill, a guy who drank beers with my dad on weekends and came to BBQs and cookouts, stood there in his uniform. From my new spot behind my dad, I locked eyes with Thaddeus.
“He killed my fucking mom. You helped him cover it up.” There was ice in his tone.
“No.” I breathed the word.
Dad stepped forward and blocked my view of Thaddeus. “Thad, I’m sorry. It was an accident.” He held up his hands as if he was surrendering.
“Clive, let’s go down to the station, and you can tell us what happened.” Bill’s face pinched. His eyebrows dipped in the center with worry.
“Thad,” my dad said, ignoring Bill. “Let me explain. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to stop...” Bill said.
But it was too late. Thad tried to lunge around him, fist drawn back in a punch.
Bill wrapped his arms around Thad’s stomach, holding him back.
“Okay, okay,” Thad said, allowing himself to be released.
“Come on now, Clive,” Bill said. “I have to take you in.”
My dad nodded. “It’ll be okay, Summer,” he reassured.
I stood frozen as the police escorted my dad to the police car.
Thad stepped toward me. “That piece of shit could have saved her.” He spoke without any emotion. His voice was barely recognizable.
“Dad couldn’t. It was an accident,” I explained, while battling the urge to reach for him.
He shook his head.
“The police got clear footage from a house nearby today. You can see my mother reach her hand out toward him. Do you know what the bastard did? He got back in his truck and drove away.” His eyes were dark pools of fury.
“No, that’s not true,” I protested, feeling sick.
He scoffed. “Oh, he didn’t tell you that part?”
“He was drunk and scared.” My voice came out small. I could barely hear myself.
“It’s all on camera. Fuck forgiveness. Clive will pay for what he did.”
He turned on his heel and walked out of my life.
Thaddeus
The only partof Tarrytown I’d wanted to visit in the last ten years was the cemetery where my mother was buried. It called to me. A son should be able to visit his mother’s grave. After a shower and a fresh pair of clothes, which felt weird after years in a prison uniform, I ate, then walked to the garage, grabbed the key, and jumped into a waiting car. My choices were endless, but I settled on the least audacious: a BMW 5 Series. Driving in silence, I found the cemetery in no time, despite the many years that had passed. The directions were etched into my brain.
