Page 75 of Bitter Lies

I wish he would just ask her and put us all out of our misery, but this isn’t my business, at least per Max, and I’m trying to put distance between us, not make it worse. When he’s ready, hopefully he will ask her, and we can finally have the answers.

“Mom,” I ask softly, approaching her warily.

I’m so very tired of these conversations, but I put myself smack-dab in the middle of this one, and all I can do is try to extricate Griffin without losing my opportunity at freedom.

“Yeah?” She glances up with an absent smile as she sets the knife down.

“Look, I don’t know what my counselor said, and I do want to move. I do think this is good for me, but Griffin didn’t, you know, hurt me.”

“No? So, he didn’t look you in the eye right after those boys…and turn you away? When you needed help? When you were hurting?” she asks, with trembling lips and bruised eyes.

What? Am I hallucinating? I never said that to Dr. Marks. No one knows that.

“How did you…?” I whisper.

“I found your diary, Halsey. And I know I shouldn’t have read it, I know, but I needed to know my baby was okay. Except all I found was the hurt—so much of it. And I couldn’t believe I pushed you to live there. I…”

Holy shit! She read my diary? Desperately, I cast back and try to remember what I put in there, and my heart sinks at the knowledge that she has now seen into the darkest recesses of my trauma. And it takes everything in me not to walk away because I feel dangerously exposed, because that wasmypain,myheartache,myfucking ugly, except it’s no longer mine.

Raising my eyes to hers, I see the devastation, and I bite back the ugly retort on my lips because I can’t make this worse even as I don’t know how to make it better. Fuck.

“Mom, it’s okay,” I mutter, tripping over the words, “You didn’t know. And Griffin…yeah, he was cruel to me, but he didn’t know either. I didn’t tell him. Please don’t hate him, please.”

“I don’t hate him, sweetie, but I am angry. And when Dr. Marks called and encouraged me to let you live elsewhere, I knew I had made a mistake.”

“But why did you come in the middle of the night?”

“Because, sweetie, I was worried. I was…I couldn’t bear the thought of you hurting yourself.” Her pretty blue eyes are tearful and as much as I feel bad about the circumstances, I also feel fucking violated.

“Mom, I’m not suicidal,” I say for the millionth time.

“Okay, but give your old mom a break, hm?”

I agree with a weak smile, moving away from the conversation as Max comes barreling through the door with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Glumly, I look out the window, spying Griffin driving away. Usually, he would come inside, but not this time. No, this time, he leaves without looking back.

∞∞∞

The holidays pass slowly as I battle the nightmares out in full force because saying the words out loud opened a chasm, I knew would be brutal, not to mention that every time I look into Mom’s eyes, I see my pain staring back at me. Still, I got what I wanted, but I just wish the victory didn’t feel like a fucking defeat.

Max has been suspiciously absent, and of course, Griffin hasn’t come around. Somewhere along the way, they grew apart, and now Max has a new set of friends.

Mom and Dad stepped out for a company holiday party, and Max is god knows where, so I decide to do a little sleuthing.

Maybe I can help Max somehow; perhaps he just needs the truth. Maybe I can actually fix something because it sure isn’t my fucked-up situation.

I start in my dad’s office, but there’s nothing here worth looking through. Besides, I know where the goods are. Mom told me once if anything happens to them, I should look in the safe in their bedroom, but I’ve been putting it off because I’m not sure I truly want to know. You can’t put that shit back in a box once it’s been opened.

Tiptoeing into their bedroom, I crouch before the safe and unlock it with trembling fingers, glancing around guiltily even though I know I’m alone.

Once inside, I pull out the documents and start at the top, reading through the standard stuff I would expect to see—my parents’ will, bank account information, and retirement statements.

But beneath, I find what tore Max apart, the birth certificate and adoption papers he spoke of before.

It’s true. He’s not my brother. Sitting back, I try to understand why my parents would lie. If he was adopted, why make it a secret?

He’s devastated and rightfully so. Did they not think he might find out about it?

With a sigh, I riffle through the remaining documents, stopping on a picture I’ve never seen before of my mom’s twin sister, Kathy. She’s smiling tiredly into the camera and holding a newborn, except, as far as I know, she never had a child.

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