Page 69 of Tracing Holland

“Aunt Gina,” I acknowledge quietly, stepping forward to face her.

The crowd has instinctively begun to back away from our confrontation, and I forget about everything, everyone else.

“You disgusting, son-of-a-bitch!What are you doing here?Why would you think for a second you’d be welcomed here?!”

I start to shake.I hate it, but I can’t stop it and draw in a deep breath, trying to control the trembling, the panic.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else so we don’t disrupt dinner?”

“Yeah, sure, run and hide!That’s just like you!”

“I’m not hiding, Aunt Gina, I just…”

“I told you never to call me that again!I am not your aunt.I am nothing to you.”

“Please, can we just…”

“The biggest mistake I ever made was agreeing to take you from your whore of a mother!I should have known you’d end up just like her no matter what I did!You know she’s dead, right?”I feel like a club hit me as I stare at her in shock.She must read it, but has no mercy.

“No, of course you wouldn’t know that.Why would you?You’ve never shown an ounce of concern for anyone but yourself.Well, and those sluts who throw themselves at you at your concerts!”Her eyes burn as she charges toward me.“You may have the world fooled, thinking you’re some kind of rock god or something, but we know who you are, what you are!We know the sludge that pumps through your veins and oozes out of your cold, dead heart.”She shoves me hard as she moves past me toward the stairs.

My vision is blurring, the air suddenly so thick I think I can feel it closing around my throat.Only one phrase slithers through the darkness in my head and it escapes before I can even consider what’s happening.

“You’re right.”

She stops.They all stop, and the silence is heavy as it settles over us.

It’s finally interrupted by a bitter laugh, and I flinch.“Oh, I am?I’m right, but…but what, Luke?What hilarious, ridiculous excuse are we getting this time?”She throws up her hands in anger.“I have nothing else to say to you!”

I close my eyes and struggle for words, anything.My heart is racing, my blood pounding so hard in my ears I don’t even know if I’ll hear whatever comes out of my mouth next, but I have to stop fighting the words.I just have to stop fighting.

“There are no buts this time.No excuses.You don’t have to say anything.It’s my turn to say something to all of you.”

The tears start to rise, heavy in my chest, but I can’t do that right now, cry.I need words, not tears, to have any hope of a future.“I do know what I’ve done, what I was,” I begin, standing before them all, the giant eye staring at me, accusing me.“I have to live with that every second of every day.The pain of trying to atone for something that can never be made right.You’re right, there will be no justice for my sins, my mistakes.And you’re right, I’ve spent a long time hiding.”The trembling has reached my voice and I clench my eyes shut, trying to gain enough control to complete my damning testimony.My self-incrimination.

“I’m not here for forgiveness,” I say finally, quietly, but somehow firm at the same time.I take a deep breath and open my eyes, meeting the jury again.“I’m here to account for what I was.”

The rest is a blurred nightmare.Those not involved, or who choose an ounce of civility, flee to the house, leaving me alone with the unfiltered hostility.I get pelted with names, dates, places, accusations for things I didn’t even know about.Did I know Elena used to call her cousin Marie at least twice a week sobbing because she knew I was cheating on her?Did I know she kept a file of the many pictures that floated around the gossip stratosphere?Did I know she’d cry herself to sleep more often than not, that she lost seven pounds in a month?Did I not understand how much that woman loved me despite what I was, how I hurt her?

My recent phone hack comes up, of course.They remember those pictures of the blond women from the initial social media explosion.Elena was with her sister Lily the night they found their way into the public eye; the night they charred Elena’s soul.Lily makes sure I understand the horror of every second of that night.How Elena blamed herself.How she thought she must not have been good enough for me to love her.How she started to believe maybe I never did.Did I actually love her?It would be news to any of them.

I can’t breathe the entire time.Can’t even think as the horrific words come at me, each revelation slicing the little that’s left of my strength, tearing me apart with old memories, gutting me with new ones I will now have to carry on my conscience.

I don’t say more than ten words for the next hour, except for answering some of the questions that are barked at me.Mostly no’s.No, I didn’t know.No, I hadn’t.No, I’m sorry.I’m really sorry.I’m not allowed to speak beyond that anyway.

Early on, I silently begged Casey to take Callie and Holland away.He knew what was coming as well as I did, and I’m sure he agreed only for their sakes.I could see the concern in his eyes as he convinced them to take a tour of the house, his fear of leaving me alone with the firing squad, but I couldn’t bear the thought of them witnessing this.Their absence is the only thing I have left to hold onto.

So it’s just me here.Alone.Silent.Condemned.

I’m embarrassed by the tears in my eyes, but I don’t even bother trying to stop them.I just let them gather and slowly slide down my cheeks as I stare at the ground, listening, holding my breath, waiting for the next bullet point on my rap sheet.

I forgot her birthday twice, anniversary pretty much every year.Oh yeah, and then there was the dog.Reilly.Because clearly I wasn’t enough for her.I didn’t meet her needs.The dog now lives with Abby.I tried to make up for getting high and missing Christmas dinner by buying her a diamond necklace.What a joke.Great-Aunt Norma doesn’t even believe I’m not high right now.Great-Uncle Alan is sure I must have some kind of STD.

I’m called names I haven’t heard in a long time, and some I definitely have.Wes’ taunts seem downright kind compared to most of what I get as the seconds turn into minutes that seem like days.And throughout it all, my only remaining blood relation is always there, elaborating on some of the comments, echoing others, nodding at the rest.

Mrs.Barrett doesn’t have as much to say as I would have thought, but I suspect it’s because her silence makes it easier for her to bask in my pain at the bludgeoning by her rallied army.I don’t miss the smirks, the satisfaction that each blow brings to her, but I say nothing as I let them land.Flinching a few times, often fighting the urge to throw up.

And then, suddenly, as quickly as it started, it just stops.

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