Page 75 of Dying to Meet You
“That’sbullshit,” she rages. “You’re all,He’s not a good person. But do you know who wasn’t a good person? Tim fricking Kovak! Did you know that?”
My blood stops circulating. “What are you talking about?”
Natalie spins and hurls herself onto her unmade bed. “Your stupid boyfriend looked through your phone! I saw him.”
A chill climbs up my spine. “When, Natalie?Whendid you see this?”
She rolls over and pins me with a glare. “One Saturday morning. I came home from Tessa’s and found him scrolling through your phone in the living room. You were in the shower.”
I feel sick. “You never told me.”
“Right.” The word is dripping with disgust. “Like I wanted to be in the middle of that problem. I just turned around and left. ButMom—that’s what an abuser does.”
Natalie is red-faced and sneering, and there’s snot running out of her nose. But she has never been more beautiful to me, raging about the injustices done to me by my not-quite boyfriend.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You shouldn’t have to try to protect me like that.”
“He was acting strange, Mom. He just put the phone down so casually. Like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t before.”
She flops back on the bed. “They think Dad killed Tim, but Tim was obviously doing some shady shit. And now Dad is in jail. I need to see my phone. What if he tried to message me?”
“I’ll get it. You can check.” It’s a relief to turn away and fetch it from my drawer, where I’d stashed it yesterday. Maybe it will provide her a small comfort.
It only takes her a moment to unlock the screen and check her notifications.
“He called me! There’s a voicemail.”
A moment later I hear my ex’s voice.
“Natty, hi.”
Natty. I feel an unwelcome tug behind my breastbone.
“This isn’t a call I ever wanted to make. But if you were thinking about worrying about me, please don’t. I didn’t do... whatever they think I did. That means I’m going to land on my feet eventually. But itmight take a while. Your mother doesn’t want to hear from me right now, and I get it. But please let her know that I still have important things to say to her. And please know that I love you very much. Always have.”
The message ends with an abruptclick.
My eyes get hot, and I dig my fingernails into my palms.
Natalie cries, and when I sit down and grab her into a hug, she lets me.
“I’m sorry, baby. It’ll turn out okay.”
“Really?” she sobs. “That’s what you’re going with? If you were sitting in jail, you’d want me to just shake it off? What if it was me in jail?”
The idea makes me feel cold despite Natalie’s octopus grip on my cotton sweater.
“Mama, we have todosomething. What if Tim got himself killed by some psycho, and they pin it on Dad?”
“I’m not sure what we can do to help right now,” I say quietly.
She straightens, eyes lifting. “You could go to the jail and make sure he has a lawyer.”
Oh baby. “I’m sure he does.”
“You can still check. If you don’t, I will. I’ll go there myself. The jail is biking distance.”
