Page 15 of Silent Damage

Everything happened so fast when it all went down. We were living in a motel, eating canned tuna, when I heard. How the hell do you call your friend and say, “Hey! Heard your mom killed your dad. You good?”

Not to mention everything that went down between us before I left.

I look at the floor and ask, “He doesn’t talk at all?”

Linda snags a chair from the kitchen and carries it over. “Rarely. He’ll say a word here and there…”

My eyes meet hers. She looks sad, defeated. But then her eyes shift, and she says hopefully, “Maybe he’ll talk to you.”

Her words.

They wash over me like a cold shower.

And, suddenly, it all becomes clear.

I had wondered why Doug wanted me to come back.

It wasn’t Doug at all. It was fucking Linda.

“Is that why I’m here?” I ask. “To play therapist for the son you traumatized?”

Linda gasps, her hands rising to her chest, clutching her metaphorical pearls. “No, that’s not it at all. I want you here. When your mom called, I thought it would be a way for us to… I don’t know. Patch things up.”

I bark out a laugh. “Patch things up,” I repeat in disbelief.

Linda sighs. “I know none of this is easy—”

“You can say that again—”

“But I know Gabe loves you. He misses you. I’m not asking you to fix him, but… Maybe try to meet him halfway?”

I want to hate Linda, but she was always better than the rest of our parents. I kind of even respect that she killed that drunk slob, but there are things she doesn’t know about Gabe and me. “Gabe knew for a whole year that you two were together,” I finally say. “We even talked about it before everything exploded, and he lied to me.”

Linda’s throat bobs as she swallows. “He was trying to protect me.”

“Yeah, well, what about me? He knew this was gonna happen. Didn’t he think I should get a heads-up so I could brace myself? Will nobody let me know there’s a pile of dogshit on the ground before I walk into it?”

Linda looks puzzled. “He was young. How could he know how to talk about this? That was our job.”

Yeah, but I loved Gabe.

How do you explain that to someone? How do you tell them how much it hurts when you reveal your darkest moments of shame to someone, and they repay you by lying to you?

I remember the moments when I’d run to him, fresh from a thrashing from Doug, showing him the worst moments of my life, and he’d lie right to my face.

My eyes are locked onto the stars above us. It’s a warm, summer night, so we sleep outside, looking up at the night sky. I try to ignore the pain. My backside throbs.

Gabe traces his finger along the veins of my forearm, trying to make me feel better. It’s humiliating. It feels awful being the damaged one—the one who comes running to Gabe red-faced and teary-eyed. I feel like such a piece of shit.

Gabe inches closer and kisses my cheek, and the simple act of care is enough to make me cry again.

“Shhh,” he insists, pulling me closer.

I wipe the tears away. Fuck, I hate crying. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

Gabe rests his hand on my chest, and I thread my fingers with his. “I hate him so much.”