Page 19 of Little Hidden Fears

“Tennis. She loved it, played since she was fourteen.” He paused, then added, “I want to show you something.”

He excused himself, and I watched him walk to the living room, grabbing a gold frame off the mantel. He brought it back and handed it to me.

The photo was of a younger woman, around eighteen, I guessed. There was no mistaking the woman was Noelle. In her hands was a trophy. From the looks of it, she’d won first place, but that wasn’t all I noticed. Though she was smiling, there was something haunting in her eyes. Perhaps the aftermath of the trauma she’d been through with Gabe. In the background, I noticed a younger version of Dominic, smiling and staring at Noelle like he was so proud, her biggest supporter.

If what he had said about their relationship was true, I couldn’t imagine the hurt he was experiencing now or how hard it would be for him to get through such a loss.

“Did Noelle play tennis throughout her adult life?” I asked.

“She did, except for the first several months after our daughter was born.”

I handed the picture back to him, and he stared at it for a time, rubbing a thumb over Noelle’s face. Then he raised the frame over his head and did something unexpected. He hurled it across the room, the glass shattering as it hit the wall, spitting shards all over the wood floor.

The tears returned, and he leaned over the counter, bowing his head.

“I’m so sorry, Dominic,” I said. “Maybe you need to get some rest. If this is too much, I understand. I know you wanted to get all of this out in one visit, but I don’t feel like you’re up to continuing right now.”

“It’s just ... she was my entire life. Don’t get me wrong, I love our daughter, but our daughter is a part of her. I can’t look at her without seeing Noelle. She’s her spitting image and has been ever since the day she was born.”

“It might be too much to process right now, but time has a way of helping you heal. I’m not saying the pain will ever be gone. It won’t. I’m saying pain goes through phases.”

“What would you know about losing the love of your life?”

“Nothing, but I know a hell of a lot about losing a father way too soon—and a daughter.”

“You lost a daughter?”

“I did.”

“How old?”

I paused, then, “She didn’t live long enough to start kindergarten.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“I take it one day at a time, and I try to focus on the positive things in my life, just like you can focus on the positive things in yours—including your daughter.”

He was sobbing now.

“It’s not the same!” he shouted. “And I’m not you! I can’t just push it down, pretend everything is going to be okay.”

I didn’t push it down.

And I never pretended everything was okay.

Still, I remained silent.

If he needed to lash out at someone, he could lash out at me.

I remained silent because I wanted him to feel in control of the narrative. But as the moments ticked by, it seemed he was slipping further away from me and into his own suffering. Thetears poured out of him now, like a hazy sky bursting open with a downpour of torrential rain.

He wiped his eyes with a hand and said, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did just now. I know you’re trying to help.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Dominic.”

“I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. Excuse me.”

He turned and took off down the hall. I thought he was going for more rum at first, but then, from down the hall, I heard eleven of the worst words I’d ever hear, “Tell my daughter I love her, and tell her, I’m sorry.”

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