Page 33 of Your Fault

“Have you talked to Nicholas?” she asked a minute later, when I had gotten into bed in my pajamas and was waiting for her to finish putting on all the lotions and face creams she’d brought.

“Yeah, he said to tell you hi,” I lied, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Mom and Nicholas were in a bad phase, so I tried never to mention them to each other when we talked.

She nodded, pensive.

“Are you happy with him, Noah?” she asked abruptly.

I didn’t expect that question, and I waited a few seconds before responding. The answer was easy: of course, I was happy with him, happier than I’d ever been with anybody. I remembered then when we were in the Bahamas and we still weren’t technically going out yet, and Nick had asked me the same thing. Was I happy? I told him that with him, I was. And what about whenwe weren’t together? Was I completely happy in that hotel room, miles and miles away, even knowing that he loved me and that we’d be together again soon?

“Your silence is worrying me.”

I looked up and realized she had misinterpreted my hesitancy.

“No. Of course. Of course I’m happy with him, Mom. I love him,” I explained.

Her brow furrowed as she observed me. “You don’t look especially convinced.” Despite those words, she did seem somewhat relieved.

“The problem is, I love him too much,” I said. “Without him, my life wouldn’t have any meaning, and that worries me.”

My mother closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she said, “That doesn’t make a bit of sense.”

Of course it did, and I was completely serious. With Nick I was safe. He protected me from my nightmares, gave me the security I had been missing my entire life. He was the only person I could tell my problems to. When we weren’t together, I felt I was losing control of myself; thoughts that shouldn’t exist and feelings I shouldn’t feel bombarded me.

“It makes perfect sense, Mom, and I’d have thought you of all people would understand, seeing how in love you are with William.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong there. No man should be the reason for your existence, understand me?” The color had drained from her face, and there was something unsettling in her expression. “My life revolved around a man for a long time, a man who didn’t even deserve a minute of my time. When I was with your father, I thought he was the only person who’d ever put up with me. I came to believe that no one else would love me, that I’d be totally alone if I didn’t have him by my side.”

My heart started pounding. My mom almost never talked about my father.

“The pain he inflicted on me was nothing compared to the fear I felt of not being with him… Men like your father get inside your head, and then they do what they want with you. Never let a man take control of your soul because you never know what he’ll do with it: hold it and venerate it, or let it crumble to pieces in his hands.”

“Nicholas isn’t like that,” I shouted, feeling every nerve in my body on edge. I didn’t want to hear those words coming from my mother. I didn’t want her to tell me how possible it was that my heart could get shattered again. Nicholas loved me; he would never leave me. He wasn’t like my father—he couldn’t be.

“I’m just saying that you come first and everyone else after… You need to always prioritize yourself, and if your happiness depends on a boy, you should reexamine things. Men come and go, but happiness is something you alone can cultivate.”

I tried to keep her words from affecting me, from getting inside me, but they did, and powerfully. That night was a clear example of how much so.

My hands were tied; there was a blindfold over my eyes, not a bit of light could get in. My heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour, cold sweat covered my body, and fear had made my breathing speed up. I knew a panic attack was coming.

I was alone. There was no one there. Infinite darkness surrounded me, and that was what made me so afraid. Then someone took off the blindfold, my hands were no longer tied, and an intense light came through the window. I took off running down a long hallway with a voice inside me telling me I should stop because there was nothing good waiting for me on the other side.

But still, I went on, and when I ran through the door, I found an army of Ronnies aiming their pistols at me. I stopped, scared, shaking, feeling sweat soaking into my shirt.

“You know what you’ve got to do…” they all told me in unison.

I turned to find a pistol in a broken wooden box on the ground. Hands trembling, I grabbed it, and after a few seconds’ indecision, I turned off the safety like a professional, got up, and turned to face the person in front of me.

“Don’t, please…” my father begged, kneeling on the ground with a terrified look on his face.

My hand was shaking, but there was no turning back.

“Sorry, Papa…”

The sound of the shot made me open my eyes, but I didn’t really wake up until I saw my mother there shaking me, frightened.

“My God, Noah!” she said as I sat up, disoriented. I was sweating and shaking like a leaf. I was bundled in blankets as though someone had tried to pin me down, and I’d been crying, as I realized when I brought my hands to my face.

“I…I had a nightmare,” I confessed.

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