Killing Me Softly (22 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

I know why Fitzy offered to let me hit him. I have never felt anything like I do in this moment. It was all a lie.

The web of lies spun by my sister has turned my life upside down. I'm immobile in my kitchen chair for a while. Fitzy finally leaves. I think he may have said something to me, but I didn't hear him. Eventually I get up, take a shower, and go back to bed. I repeat this pattern, shower optional, for about three days. I text people in response, just so they know I'm alive. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to do anything. And so I don't.

On the fourth day, I actually make it to the shower. After I blow dry my hair, I dress in denim shorts and a blue tank top with a cream-colored crocheted tank over it. It doesn't matter what I look like on the outside. Nothing will touch how black I feel on the inside. I slide my feet into my sandals, grab my purse and keys, and head over to Mom's. I don't think she'll be able to relate to my feelings on this, but I know she'll be feeling equally bad, just for different reasons.

I'm not wrong. Her eyes are all puffy, and she's aged about ten years since I saw her at the funeral. The funeral. God, how can all this be happening at one time? She pulls me into her arms, and finally the tears start to flow. Hot and angry and seemingly endless.

"How could she, Mom? How could she do this to me?"

"I don't know. I'm so ashamed."

I can't even imagine what it must feel like to be the parent of someone who does something like this. Immediately, the Hendersons pop into my head. "Oh God, Mom! What about the Hendersons? This is going to kill them. They thought they were going to have a little piece of Rob forever. It's like they're going to lose him all over again!"

"Oh, those poor people! I don't even know what to say. And now that it's come out that Rob and Jenna weren't together, it was her acting so, so, so crudely that caused the accident. She's responsible for his death."

And while in theory, she is to blame (Rob a little too—he could have pulled over before, well, you know), I know the real cause. Me. Out of all the lies, one truth remains. I'm responsible for Rob's death. If I hadn't insisted on the romantic weekend. If I hadn't lost the baby and grown distant. If I hadn't freaked out on him about the bat, he never would have been in that car with Jenna. Then, the feeling that I would never speak to him again. Yup, it was me. I caused it.

I truly hated the thought that he had been seeing my sister, but in many ways it made his death easier to process. Believing he cheated on me kept me from questioning my decision to end our relationship, and it enabled me not to spend too much time mourning Rob. I am a truly terrible person.

"Where is she?"

"Um, she's in a treatment facility."

"A treatment facility? What do you mean?"

"She went away to some sort of rehab place or something. She's obviously not stable. There's something very wrong with her, and she's hoping to be able to get her life figured out."

"You know I'm done with her, right?"

Mom lets out a sigh. "I know you are, and you have every right to be. I wish it weren't so, but I understand. I don't know what to do about her. This is near unforgiveable. It's going to take a lot of work to get any sort of trust or relationship back. And that's a hard pill to swallow when it's your own child."

"Mom, there's something I need to tell you." I fill her in about the miscarriage and how Rob and I were not meant for each other. It feels good to come clean with her.

"Sadie, I have something for you. Jenna gave me a letter for you. I know you're done with her, but please, for me, just read it. You never know, it may give you the closure you're looking for."

I don't want to read it. I crumple it up and then quickly unfold it again, all three pages. The sight of the loose-leaf paper brings me back to our childhood, when it was Jenna and me against the world. She owes me this explanation. Her handwriting is no better than when we were kids. I walk out to the back yard to read the letter by myself. I sit on top of the picnic table in the farthest corner of the yard.

Dear Sadie,

I know you hate me. You've made that abundantly clear. Don't worry, I hate myself too. I know what I did was terrible. It's inexcusable. I wish I knew why I acted like this. Actually, I know why I started hating you. And I'm starting to see that it had nothing to do with you. When I was 12, something happened. I had been out in the woods with David McHale. I was amazed that a 15-year-old would be interested in me. So when he suggested he give me my first kiss, I thought it would be so romantic. Turns out he wanted more, and he took it. When I came home that day, you were so busy talking on the phone that you didn't even stop to say hello. You didn't notice that I was different. For a while after, I was in shock, not knowing how to process what had happened to me. How I had been violated.

So I kept it hidden. Almost as a badge of honor of how I was stronger than you. But then, you were there. Still perfect. Still pure. And I was jealous of you. Of that thing you had that had been stolen from me. The jealousy and pain consumed me until I was jealous of everything about you. Of your looks, your hair, your brains, your sense of humor. Jealous of how close you were with Dad. Jealous of how proud Mom is of you. With me, I've always felt that I was an afterthought. The 'woops' that just kept on woopsing. That I deserved what happened to me.

I know I've been a terrible sister. If I had me for a sister, I wouldn't want one either. I've taken every chance I had to beat you. To prove that I'm better. To make myself better. But I've known all along, and I suspect that everyone else knows too, you were always, and will always be the better person.

Damn, I wish I could be like you, but I'm not. I'm not kind or selfless. I'm not giving. I want back what was taken from me. I want everything I don't have. I want it all for me, and you stood in my way. So I took every chance I had to take things from you. In all this time, I never thought about doing the things in my life that would make me happy. I only thought about doing the things what would make you unhappy. It's no way to live, and no wonder I ended up where I am. Sometimes I think maybe I would be better off not being here, but I'm too selfish to even do that.

When the car crashed, I panicked. I knew it was my fault. When it first started, Rob kept telling me to stop. I wouldn't listen. I wanted to be exciting and daring and do things that my goody-two-shoes sister wouldn't do. I thought if people thought Rob and I were together, they would be less mad at me for the accident. The ring was in my pocket. He gave it to me to see, and I pocketed it. I'm not going to lie, I was planning on stealing it. I needed the money, so I was going to sell the ring. It was an ugly ring. Well not ugly, but certainly not you.

I think that might be one reason why I started doing what I did to Rob. I knew that you and he weren't right for each other. I mean, he didn't even realize you only wear silver! And, he was asking my advice about you. If he really knew you, he would have known to talk to Therese, not me, about you. He should have known that we weren't close. I sort of rationalized that I was doing you a favor. I do a lot of rationalizing.

Because people thought we were engaged, I got to go through Rob's stuff. I found his journal and of course, kept it. I was shocked to learn about the miscarriage. I guess that's what gave me the idea for the pregnancy thing. I wanted to be successful at the one thing you had failed at. That thought consumed me, and I didn't think the rest through. Plus, I thought I would get some more money, like benefits or something. When the Hendersons got involved, I didn't know what to do. If Max hadn't come along that night and helped me out, I don't know what I would have done. I know I need to make amends to them as well.

I know you won't believe it, but I'm trying to work on becoming a decent human being. I'm trying to be better. I'm also thinking about what I want in life. It has nothing to do with you. I need to have a life separate from you for a while, so I can figure out who I am, other than Sadie's sister. I know that won't be hard for you to stay away from me, but it will be hard for me not to want to be in your life. I am consumed with envy because I want to be you. I know it's not healthy, and I'm working on it.

I don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive me, but I hope someday you will. My door will always be open for you.

Sadie, I'm sorry you lost the baby. You would and will make a great mother. I'm sorry for the lying and cheating and deception. I'm sorry for not being your sister.

              Jenna

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

What am I supposed to do with this? I mean, it’s obvious that Jenna has significant problems. She was raped. Violated. At such a young age. I wonder if she ever told my parents. It would explain why my mom is so protective and excusing of her. But that was such a long time ago. She’s turned my life upside down. She’s responsible for Rob’s death. She’s broken his parents’ hearts for a second time. What do I do?

Before I can come up with an answer, because, let’s face it, it might take me months to come up with an answer, I’m interrupted. Saved by the irritating cop.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Fitzy sits down on the picnic table with me. We’re sitting on the top of the table, feet on the bench, elbows resting on our knees. I can see the birdfeeder in the neighbor’s yard and am riveted by the comings and goings there. The day is hot and humid already, and I know I won’t be able to stay out here for as long as I want.

“You’re mom said I’d find you out here.”

“Yeah, trying to solve all the world's problems. You know, the usual. What are you doing here?”

“Trying to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, yeah. Peachy-freakin’-keen.”

“I’ve been worried about you.”

I look over. Fitzy must have come from working out or something. He's in hunter green gym shorts and a heather gray t-shirt that's not nearly fitted enough. It's odd to see him out of his detective duty dress shirt and pants. “Why?”

“Because I care about you, Sadie. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Then you picked a bad year to become reacquainted with me, since that’s how it’s been all year. I don’t see it improving, either.”

“It’s only July. There’s still time.”

“Tomorrow’s August first. Not that much time. I go back to school in a few weeks. My house isn’t where I want it to be, and I’ve lost my handyman.”

“Trouble in paradise?” He gives me a little nudge with his shoulder.

“There is no paradise. I can’t be with Max. He's too intense. I mean, so intense he deceived me. I mean, I rationally can understand why he thought it was a good thing, but to me it’s still deception. I have trust issues. Especially after Rob, but now everything’s all mixed and muddled, and I don’t know what to think. And so here I sit, trying to solve the world's problems. I think they’d be easier to solve than my own.”

“Isn’t the news that Rob didn’t cheat on you a good thing?”

“Of course it is. But it doesn’t change the fact that I am now insecure about that. And it doesn’t change the fact that I’m just as responsible for his death as my sister is.”

Fitzy starts laughing. “That’s a good one.”

I give him a quick jab with my shoulder. “Don’t laugh, I’m being serious.”

He tries to pull his face into an expression resembling seriousness. He’s almost successful. “Okay, tell me how you killed Rob.”

I sigh before beginning. At least he already knows about the visions and stuff. So I tell him. About how the last few times I had those premonitions, people ended up dying.

“Sadie, you can’t think you kill people.”

“How am I supposed to think anything else? I make a comment about someone dying, or about never speaking to them again, and—WHAM—they’re dead. If that’s not my fault, then whose is it?”

“It’s the universe. You can no more control peoples’ lives and deaths than you can control the wind. You have a gift. A clairvoyance. Actually, I think you may also have a claircongnizance.”

"What the hell is claricog ... whatever you said?"

"Claircognizance. It's the ability to know something without prior knowledge, memory, or experience. You just know it and it is. You can know things without trying. Like an unexplained insight."

"What's clairvoyance then?"

"That's the ability to see something. A vision. Like seeing a number or a flash of something."

"That happens too."

"Really? Actual visions? Can you explain one?"

I think back. I've had two regarding Fitzy in the past few weeks. "The day you were at my house and they found Jenna's car."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"When you stepped out to take the call about the car, I had a vision. I was sitting in my kitchen, not facing the window. In my head, I could see you, in a specific spot on my driveway, talking on the phone and kicking rocks around. When I looked out the window, that's exactly what you were doing."

"Oh, wow, I was in one of your visions?" I think he's proud of it.

"More than one," I mumble. Unfortunately, we're sitting awfully close together, and he has good hearing.

"More than one? What was the other?"

I don't want to tell him about my dream. On the other hand, maybe talking about it will help me work it out. So I tell him. I tell him about the wedding and my dad, his shirtless appearance and the matching tattoos. Then I tell him about the groom and my dad's message, and finally waking up at the instant my dad passed away. "So I knew when it happened, and just waited for the phone call."

"That's so weird."

"Gee, thanks. Every girl likes to be called weird."

"No, I mean how it happens. It's cool."

"No, it's not. Not when people start to look at you funny when you say a poor sixteen year-old is going to wind up getting himself killed only to have it happen the next day. Plus, that dream, I don't know what to make of it."

"What do you mean by that? Seems like your dad was making sure you would be okay when he left, and he wanted you to know he's always going to be with you, even though he's not with you."

"Sadly, I completely understand that sentence. What I mean is the whole wedding thing. It seemed to me in the dream that you were not the right choice, and that Max was."

"Was Max even in your dream?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I never actually saw his face."

"So you don't know it was Max."

"No, but I thought it could be. Now, it's abundantly clear to me that Max is not the right choice. I wonder if I was so reticent about getting involved with him because I somehow knew he wasn't right. And if it's not right, I'd be settling again, just like with Rob."

"And your dad told you ...?"

"To do the right thing." And then it dawns on me. In the dream, mostly naked Fitzy is the one that told me it could be right. I turn and look at Fitzy.

"Are you the right thing?"

"I can't tell you that, Sadie. You have to feel it."

I close my eyes and search deep within. We're sitting in the exact same spot where we'd been seventeen years ago. I let my mind go, and suddenly I know. Without a doubt. Because it just is.

I open my eyes and look at him. I can still see the boy I fell in love with when I was nine. "You're supposed to be Jacob."

A small smile dances across his lips. His lips look heavenly and sinful all at the same time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"In the book,
Twilight
. Bella has to choose between Edward and Jacob. On paper, Jacob is the better choice, since being with him won't result in her death, most likely. But she chooses Edward, even though he's a vampire."

"And I'm Jacob?"

"Yeah, I mean, I thought you were. I thought you were the super hot and ripped best friend who's a comfort, and would be a great partner, but for some reason,
it's
not there. Maybe I had it all wrong ..." I trail off.

"At least I'm not a vampire."

"No, you're a werewolf."

"Well, now you're simply being ridiculous. Everyone knows that the werewolf gets the girl. It's why shifters are so popular."

"A, are we even having this conversation, and B, how do you know about shifters?"

"Michele reads a lot of that stuff. Sometimes, especially on stakeouts, things get boring. I've read some of the books on her Kindle. I mean, out of desperation, of course."

"Of course. Anything good?"

"I think Michele's favorite was
A Shift in the Water
by Patricia D. Eddy. I'm currently reading
Into the Light
by Tami Lund. It's pretty steamy."

"I'll have to look into them." I smile at him. "You know, this is where we sat at my graduation party."

"I know." His smile, those lips, are clouding my brain.

"I don't want to fall again."

"I promise I'm going to catch you."

"I know you will."

And with that, I close the miniscule distance between us. This kiss is sweet but quickly turns hungry. I don't know that I will ever get enough of this man. I know that my thoughts won't harm him, and my visions won't kill him. I'm not scared that he's going to cheat. I know that Jenna will not come between us. I know that this is not settling. I know that this is meant to be.

It's the right thing.