“I will.”
“And it means not bailing when things don’t feel magical.”
“I know.”
“And it means you’ll have to earn my trust back.”
He nodded. “I know. I’m willing to work for it.”
I almost broke down and hugged him, but I remained strong, folding my arms in front of me. “Good. Because this won’t be easy. We’re going to start with one night of truthful conversation about the real you, past and present.”
He nodded, but I can’t say he didn’t look nervous. “OK.”
“And we’re not going to touch each other,” I went on. “We already know we’re very good communicating sexually, but I want more than that.”
“I do too.”
“Do you agree to the terms?”
“Yes.” He paused. “I won’t say I’m happy about not touching you, but if that’s what it takes, then I’ll agree.”
“That’s what it takes. I need to know exactly who it is that I’m giving this chance to, Theo. That’s the only way I’ll know whether you’re someone I can trust with my whole heart. And if you want anything less than that, you should walk out the door right now.” I pointed toward the front door.
He didn’t even glance at it. “No,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I want to stay.”
Twenty-Five
Theo
* * *
Finally, I could breathe.
For a solid week I’d felt like I couldn’t get enough oxygen, like a tank was parked on my chest, but now that I was here and she’d asked me to stay, I could breathe.
It hadn’t been an easy decision, to come here and say those things, list all my faults, and ask for another chance. Part of me had thought she might say fuck you, no, and throw me out on my ass—it would certainly have been her right.
“But is she like that?” Aaron had asked on Christmas Day. I’d lain awake almost the entire night before, thinking about what to do, and I’d voiced my fears to him as we watched the kids open gifts. “From what you’ve told me, she sounds like a more forgiving person than that.”
“She is,” I’d said, frowning as I lifted my coffee cup to my lips. My head felt so cloudy this morning, probably because I’d slept so little.
A few minutes went by before he’d spoken again. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Have you forgiven yourself?”
I couldn’t look at him. “For what?”
“For anything.” When I didn’t answer—couldn’t answer—he’d gone on. “I think you should start there. With yourself. It’s where I have to start, too.”
“God. That’s really fucking hard.”
He’d put a hand on my shoulder. “Sure as hell is, brother. Nothing like a mirror to force you to see truth when you’d much rather see a lie.”
His words had stuck with me throughout the following week. He was right—I had to stop avoiding self-reflection and start asking myself some hard questions. I continued to go to the gym and hang out at Aaron’s house, watching the kids while Aaron hunted for jobs and Josie worked, but I spent a lot of time at my apartment alone trying to figure out who I was and, more importantly, who I wanted to be.
Now, I confessed it all to Claire.
“Aaron was right—I blamed myself for a lot of things, hated myself for them. And I hadn’t forgiven myself at all. Not for hiding when our father abused him. Not for disappointing my coach by dropping out of school. Not for disappointing my grandmother. Not for being so ashamed I couldn’t face her until she was already ill. Not for any of my crimes.”
She looked up from the cutting board on the counter, where she was struggling to cut a squash in half. “But those aren’t crimes, exactly. I mean, obviously stealing a car is a crime, but those other things are more like things you feel bad about doing.”
My stomach turned over. “There were some other crimes.”
“Crimes?” She blinked. “Like, plural?” She waved the butcher knife around.
“Uh, yeah.” I slid off the stool I was sitting on and went around the counter to help her. “But it’s all in the past. I promise you.” I took the knife from her hand and halved the tough-skinned vegetable for her.
She pinned me with a stare. “Have you hurt people, Theo?”
“Never. It only involved money. More like unsavory business deals between—”
“But you’re not involved with them any longer?”
I held up my palms. “No. I am clean as can be and plan to stay that way.” I’d already called John Salinger and told him I was out of the game. “Aaron and I are going to try the carpentry business again, but I’ll probably work at the stoneworks for a while too. Until we build up a good reputation and regular clientele.”
“Good. Then I don’t want to hear anything unsavory.” She grabbed a big spoon from a drawer. “But thank you for telling me the truth.”
“You’re welcome.” There. Another ugly piece of my life was behind me. I inhaled and exhaled, feeling as if my lungs could expand ten times bigger now.
“So go on.” Claire picked up a squash half and began to scoop it out. “You were telling me about forgiving yourself?”
“Right.” I sat down again, refocusing on what I’d been saying. “The funny thing was, when I wrote down all the things I felt bad about and stared at them, forcing myself to take a hard look at what I’d done, I realized the ones that mattered the most to me, the things that would be hardest to forgive, were the ones that meant I’d let other people down. People I cared about—my brother, my grandmother, my coach.”