Page 86 of The Secret We Keep
Choking on my resolve, I’m unable to swallow down the words rushing out of me like I normally do. “I got a man killed.”
My mother’s eyes glisten.
I want to rewind time and take the words back as I watch her eyes then fill. But with every second that ticks away, and the longer the truth remains out there, instead of the world falling apart, nothing happens.
I breathe in, relief soaking me, then out, as regret swiftly follows.
Because now she knows.
There’s no going back.
I can’t carry this anymore.
I have to tell her everything.
“He was a drunk who had two kids and used to treat the women in his life like shit. I was friends with him before I started hating being around him.”
“Did you know him well?” Her voice barely works.
I pause before I say, “It was Hannah’s brother.”
Her eyes close, tears running tracks over her cheeks. “Is that why she left?”
I nod, but she can’t see me. “She blames me for him dying. Which she should.” My words catch in my throat.
Her eyes open slowly. “Why?”
Swiping at my eye, I finally confess, “Because I was driving him home after finding him on the side of the road after my shift.” Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I’m sitting here, reliving the accident in detail. My hands shake. I have no idea how Mum’s going to take this. “He started arguing with me about how I was taking over his family.” My throat rattles. Taking in air gets harder. “I wasn’t doing that. I was trying to look out for them.” My voice eventually cracks, same as my heart.
“I know you were, love,” Mum agrees without fully knowing what it was like, her arms wrapping around me as I let my head drop.
I explain through my agony. “He hated that Hannah would come to me when she needed something, or if his girls didn’t want to stay with him. He blamed that on me, but, I mean, how could you blame them for not wanting to be around him? They were young, and he should have done better by them.”
I lift my head and dry my eyes, Mum’s hands loosening their hold. Taking a sip of my drink, I keep unravelling my story like it’s a tightly woven ball of string. With every word, I feel the weight lessen slightly; the words flowing more easily.
“He was pushing me, and the angrier I got, the faster I drove.” Daggers cut me at my core, the pain sharp and blinding. “I only wanted to scare him. But I lost it, Mum.” I picture his face when my foot hit the floor, letting the pain back in. “I fucking lost it.”
Mum’s grip on me is vice-like. She remains silent while I battle my demons, letting them run havoc.
Eventually, I swipe under my nose, unclenching my jaw. “After hitting ninety, I realised what I was doing. I saw the danger I was putting us both in and I slammed on the brakes, but it didn’t matter. Aaron grabbed the wheel, making me lose control of the car.”
Mum sags and her breath escapes on a ragged sob.
Breathing deep and slow, I manage to look her in the eye, releasing a wounded growl. “He knew what he was doing when he grabbed the steering wheel. But I went off the road, and the car spun, only stopping when it collided with a tree on the other side of the bank.”
“Oh my God,” Mum weeps, both hands coming to cover her mouth. “I think I read about that in the paper. That wasyou? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her cries are broken, and I know I’ve made her feel terrible. She would have been there for me in a heartbeat. But I had done wrong, and the guilt… it ate away at me like nothing I’ve experienced before. I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t focus.
She didn’t need to see me like that.
My heart pounds so loudly remembering my colleagues arriving on scene. Aaron was pronounced dead, and I was taken to hospital with scrapes and a concussion.Fuckingconcussion. That’s it. It doesn’t seem fair that hediedwhile I walked away unscathed.
“Paddy. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Please,” I desperately ask of her, my head swimming as I remember the smell of fuel and smoke. “Don’t say I’m lucky. I should have died right there alongside him.”
She steels her spine. “But you didn’t, Patrick.” Wiping her eyes, Mum begs me with one simple look not to take the blame for this. I can see it as clear as day.
“I’ve already blamed myself, hated myself, tortured myself over and over again. I don’t think I know how to stop.”
