When He Fell by Kate Hewitt

Author:Kate Hewitt [Hewitt, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781474034654
Publisher: Carina
Published: 2015-06-01T05:00:00+00:00

16

JOANNA

Lewis and I don’t discuss the appointment with Will Dannon beyond what we said in the street. This is not surprising to me; in the six years since it happened, neither of us has ever brought up our separation or what caused it. When Lewis came back after three weeks, he stood in the doorway while I clutched Josh to my chest and tried not to cry.

Lewis dropped his duffel bag with a thud. “I’m back,” he said. “I shouldn’t have gone.”

I let out a shuddering breath of relief and bowed my head as tears slipped silently down my face. Lewis came inside and Josh scrambled off my lap and ran to him. And we all moved on.

Yet now I find myself thinking about that time more and more. I wonder if Josh really was affected the way Will seems to think he was. I wonder if we should have talked about it, exorcised the memories that still hold the power to hurt me, and maybe hurt Josh too.

After all these years, I haven’t let go of the hurt. I don’t think about it; I pretend it’s all forgotten. But now, as I remember, the pain rips the old wounds open and the anger bleeds and burns.

But do I really want to rake all that up with Lewis? Do I want to deal with all that mess? I’m afraid if we do, Lewis might leave me again, and I couldn’t bear that.

The days slip by and I observe Josh covertly; he’s eating his meals, practicing his knots—they seem to have taken the place of Lego books—and doing his homework. I tell myself that he is okay, even though I’m not sure I believe it. I sit with him at bedtime and chat about knots and Lego and meaningless trivia, wanting to make things feel normal for both of us.

My father calls to tell me he’s made appointments for him and my mother. Two separate appointments, on separate days, so I will have to come to Danbury twice. I close my eyes at this realization, and make arrangements to go.

“Don’t you think we have enough to be going on with?” Lewis asks one Monday night, after Josh is in bed. I am stacking dishes in the dishwasher and he is paying bills.

“Yes, I do, but these are my parents, Lewis, and I told you before, I want to be there for them.”

“Even though they’ve never been there for you?”

I close my eyes. “Yes.”

He sighs wearily. “I don’t mean to sound unkind. But I don’t want you to be hurt by them all over again, Jo.”

Over the last fifteen years Lewis has witnessed my parents’ little rejections and how they’ve hurt me: the bland picture frame they sent when Josh was born, rather than visiting; the delicate suggestion that we stay at a hotel rather than with them when we visited; the condo they bought that didn’t allow children to stay overnight. Pinpricks of hurt, but eventually, with enough pin pricks, you can bleed to death.

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