Page 83 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“It’s a monstrous thing,” I whisper.
“Then let the monster out so it can go devour someone else.”
Tears burn my eyes. “It shames me that I wasn’t brave enough to leave Oliver,” I finally get out in a tormented rush, almost choking on the words that have held my mind in a stranglehold for so long.
Grandma doesn’t say a word. She sits with me in the quiet following the ugliness of that confession and waits, as though she knows the rest of it has to pour out of me without interruption.
“I should have done the right thing and left him before he left me. I should have protected myself and I should have protected Lisset. Only I didn’t. I continued loving him, hoping he would change.” My voice cracks. “I stayed, even when his words got meaner, the shoves got harder, and the coldness became icy.”
I stayed when his hands fisted painfully in my hair. When he placed his forearm across my throat to cut off my breath. When he ignored me for days on end as though I was invisible.
Those are memories I can’t haul out for my grandmother, but from the pain etched on her face she comprehends on some level how bad it was.
“You stayed for the hope.”
My throat tightens at the gentle understanding in her voice. “While a part of me realized my marriage will only get worse, another part of me kept hoping we could return to the beginning when we were crazy in love with each another, when he was still charming and wonderful.”
She sighs softly. “Katherine, I want you to be at peace. Your life is not defined by the good or bad things that happen to you, but by your reaction to them. You’re so consumed by shameand regret that you’re exhausting yourself. You need to learn to forgive.”
“I can’t forgive him,” I say vehemently.
“I’m not talking about him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You need to forgive yourself.”
I stare at her, stricken. Then I ask the question that haunts me. “Why wasn’t I brave enough to leave?”
“I don’t know the answer to that question. Neither do you. Maybe you were one step away from leaving. Who knows? But I want you to stop punishing yourself,” she says firmly. “And stop torturing yourself with the what-ifs. A better question to ask yourself is,what now?”
I sit rigidly in my chair, trying to absorb her words, the loving wisdom in them.
She rests her hand supportively on top of mine. “You might not have been brave enough to leave, but now you have the chance to be brave enough to open yourself up to love again. And I want you to take it.”
I hop into the shower and change my outfit before Gideon arrives. Even though I wear an apron when I work, food smells tend to seep into my skin and clothes.
“Hey,” Gideon says when I answer the door, his eyes soft as they sweep over me.
“Hey.”
He gestures to my porch chairs. “Shall we sit?”
A ribbon of nervous tension coils inside me. “Okay.”
“How’s Lisset doing?” he asks, as soon as we’re seated.
My tension eases a fraction. It warms me that Gideon’s first concern is my daughter’s wellbeing.
“She pretty much cried herself to sleep last night but she seems better this morning.” When his face tightens, I add quickly, “She’s carried this secret around for months, bottling up her feelings. It sounds awful, but I think it’s good she got them out. I’m hoping we can move on from here.”
His eyes fasten on me. “What about you? How are you doing?”
“Me? I’m...”
How am I? I don’t know. Exhausted. Stressed. Sad. Grateful for his presence, while also a little nervous about his expectations.
Mostly, though, I’m full of longing for a different past.
