Page 40 of The Unbecoming

“Your childhood,” I say. “You are flirty, but in a way that is natural and non-threatening. That says Mommy issues, but you didn’t turn toxic like some men. It made you compassionate. You make very sure you are only ever looking at my face…”

“I underestimated you,” Owen says, but doesn’t stop me.

“You are attracted to me, but you have too much respect for women to allow yourself to consider what it means,” I say. “That leads me to believe that your mother isn’t who hurt you. Someone hurt her, and you had to watch it happen.”

“I’ll be the first to admit when I’ve had a terrible idea,” he says, but is still calm.

“You are guarded. Kinda like me,” I say. “You run a group for sexual assault survivors. That’s not random at all. That means something to you. So you either watched your mother get raped, or you were raped, and your mother had to watch it happen.”

The way he lets his breath out a little harsher tells me I’m close.

“No,” I say.

“I think that’s…”

“She died,” I say. “Killed trying to stop whoever it was that was hurting you.”

Owen goes silent.

“A stepfather,” I say. “She caught him raping you, and she died trying to protect you.”

“And the photo?” he asks, glancing at the photo.

“It’s not her,” I say. “You willingly brought that up, which says you want to mention it. Considering what events led me into this position, I’m going to say it’s a partner. Probably a dead one.”

“It’s of my wife and son,” he says, pulling it down and handing it to me. I take the picture out of his hands, and I see a beautiful brunette with the most adorable little boy sitting in her lap. Owen is next to them, and they are all smiling. He looks the same in this photo, so it’s recent. I flip it over, and it’s dated two years ago.

“They both died?” I ask.

“Mhmm,” he says. “Teenage girl texting and driving. She crossed the center line and hit them head-on.”

“Shit,” I say. “I’m sorry. He’s so little.”

“Parker was so sweet,” Owen says softly. “Honestly, Nora. I didn’t expect you to guess all that about my mom.”

“Did she die?” I ask.

“No. But almost,” he says. “My stepfather would get drunk and beat her before raping me. This time she caught him. He shot her before finishing what he was doing to me while she laid on the floor next to us. When he fell asleep, she got up and blew his brains out.”

“Oh hell,” I laugh. “That’s not funny. Just… so casual.”

“She’s a badass woman,” he says.

“We just skipping over how I said you were attracted to me?” I ask.

“Nora, do you know what transference is?” Owen asks casually.

“Oh, fuck you,” I laugh.

“Ready?” he asks, shifting the vehicle into park before turning to look at me. I look up and realize that we are at the graveyard, and my heart sinks. The smile fades quickly, and I am most definitely not ready for this.

Owen gets out and walks around to open my door. I am hesitant, but I get out. At the last second, I turn and dig in my bag to find something before turning back. “Okay,” I say.

Owen nods, and we walk along the gravel path until he takes us between gravestones and down a row. We stop under a large tree, and there are two black granite headstones.

William “Liam” Jones

3/15/2000 - 4/17/2025