"Lauren asked me if it would help me to get a new start if I started going by my middle name, and of course, my new last name. I said no at first, but after that first week, I agreed. I wanted to become someone else – truthfully, I wanted to escape myself. Of course, a name change can't do that, but it seemed like a start at the time. I registered for school as Jake Madsen and no one has called me Leo until now." And it feels right that Evie be the first one to use my real name, as if I’ve been hiding behind Jake Madsen for eight years. Maybe somehow, unconsciously, trying to keep the real me safe, tucked away. I realize now though, that Evie is the only one I need to be completely exposed to, and the one that I’m the most terrified of being exposed to. It doesn’t justify my lie, but it was the motivation behind my dishonesty. Fear. Hers is the only judgment I really, truly care about, the only judgment that can flatten me completely. I’m beginning to think that maybe there’s a chance that I’ll be okay when it comes to my past and all the demons that I’ve carried around for as long as I can remember. But will I survive it if Evie deems me unforgivable? God, I don’t know.
With fear in her eyes, she asks me what happened that first week. And that’s how I start telling her my story, filled with secrets and shame, and mistakes and maybe, just maybe, some redemption. From that first flight to San Diego, to the flight back to Cincinnati.
She listens to every word I say, her expression going from horror to pain, to anger, to sorrow – my Evie, her emotions right there for me to see. She doesn’t know how to hide, or maybe she doesn’t try. But either way, the beauty and strength in that is even more apparent to me in the midst of my own story. I had hidden in every way possible. But in the end, the demons had found me behind every effort anyway – they’re industrious like that.
I tell her about that terrible day in the basement of my new home in San Diego. The horror on her face is devastating and I almost decide I can’t go on. But I pull it together and I go on anyway. I owe it to her. But my own shame is scalding me from the inside, burning me alive. I’m reliving it as I tell Evie about the moment that affected us both, the moment that changed our course, maybe forever. That moment wasn’t just about me. It was about her too. I take responsibility for that. She calls Lauren a pedophile, and maybe she’s right. But I cooperated. Even if she manipulated me, I played right into her web. I accept that. I have to.
I’ve learned a lot, and I’ve looked at Lauren’s actions in a new light since talking to Dr. Fox. And he’s helped me understand why I played the part that I did. But I still haven’t been able to let go of the searing shame that the memories bring. Maybe it’s the last piece of my puzzle. I’ve made some peace with my past, allowing me to let go of some of the pain, and I’ve told Evie the truth now. Maybe Lauren is the one thing that I need to let go of before I can fully heal and be that complete man that Dr. Fox talked about. Why does it still feel like such an impossible feat?
"You didn't think you could trust me enough to tell me?" she asks softly, a sob making her voice hitch, and my heart squeeze painfully.
"A million times I thought about how I could explain to you what happened. I needed you so desperately; I thought I would die of the longing. But what was I supposed to say? I couldn't even make sense of it myself, much less try to explain it to you. I was just so deeply ashamed.
"And eventually, I considered the longing for you my penance for being me, someone who destroyed the people he loved. The thing I couldn't get around was what my silence must be doing to you."
I pause for a minute, considering my words, listening to my own heart. "Eventually though, I convinced myself that being apart, you had a fighting chance. I figured I was broken and that some people can't be fixed, or if they can, it's only by love so big it destroys the fixer. I couldn't destroy you any more than I thought I already had, Evie. I convinced myself that knowing the truth about me would have hurt you more than leaving you alone."
When Evie looks at me with empathy in her eyes and holds herself back from touching me, I know it is more a testament to her innate kindness than that I’m worthy of her forgiveness.
Telling Evie all my truth is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s the hardest thing I will ever do. To sit and look Evie in the eye and explain to her what a wretched person I had been. I had turned into everything that I had always promised myself I would never be – a coward, a user, a liar. I had turned to the very thing that had hurt me so much as a boy, numbing myself with substances instead of facing my own pain. And as I reveal myself to her, I wonder how she’ll ever be able to love me again, if she'll ever be able to love me again.
When I tell her about my accident, she grabs my hand and squeezes it, and it’s almost too much. I put my hands back in my own lap, knowing I don’t deserve the comfort.
I tell her about my dad’s heart attack, about Dr. Fox, about all those months lying there self-reflecting, wanting her back in my life so badly, it was a physical pain.
I tell her about following her, about blurting out my lie and then letting it continue. I cringe. I’m sickened by my deceit, but at the same time, a part of me is not sorry that it gave us the chance to find out who we are together before having to deal with all the issues my identity would have immediately brought up. I’m not sure how to reconcile these conflicting feelings, and so I don’t try. I just confess. I confess it all and I don’t hold back.