Put Me Back Together (40 page)

I took Em by the shoulders, looking her in the eye. I said, “There was no axe, no noose dangling from a tree, no array of knives to torture me with. My life is not a horror movie.” Actually, it kind of was, but this wasn’t the moment to bring it up.

“But he tried to cut your face in half?” Emily said, reaching up to touch my bandages but shying away at the last moment, he finger left hanging in the air.

“Tried and failed,” Lucas piped up, and Em spun around, startled. He gave her a winning smile.

“Oh, Lucas. You’re here,” she said then looked back at me. “You sure you want to bring him into the mix
today
?” she said in a typical Emily not-quite-a-whisper voice.

“I’m sure,” I said, threading my fingers with his. I felt reassured just having his tall body standing next to me.

Emily eyed our linked hands and our faces then gave me an unreadable look. Our conversation on the phone came back to me. It was a distant memory to me, since the whole life-in-danger episode had happened between then and now, but it occurred to me that it was the last time we’d spoken, and it had been just yesterday evening. I wondered when time would start to make sense again.

“You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?” Em said, her tone hard as stone. “That night when you freaked out…you knew Brandon was coming for you.”

It was so hard to look her in the eye, but I did it. “There’s a lot I didn’t tell you. I know that’s hard to hear—”

“Mom and Dad are on the deck,” she said abruptly, then walked quickly through the kitchen and out the door to the backyard, letting it slam closed behind her.

I sighed hard and turned away from the bank of windows that took up most of the back wall of the kitchen. I could just make out my mother sitting in a patio chair. How was I going to face her?

Lucas put an arm around me and I leaned into his side. “Weak,” I said.

“Strong,” he said.

“Liar,” I said.

“Survivor,” he said.

“Unforgiveable,” I said.

“Loved,” he said, and kissed me on the top of the head.

It was like the break in a boxing match. With Lucas in my corner, I felt ready to face round two.

The scene on the back deck was exactly what I’d expected: my mother at the patio table under the umbrella, surrounded by case folders, cartons of documents piled beside her chair; my father lying in a reclining lawn chair in full sun beside her, a biography of Sherman sitting open on his stomach. It was still a little early in the season to be lounging on the deck—they were both wearing thick sweaters and holding steaming cups of coffee—but small concerns like the weather never stopped the Archers. The only difference from the usual scene was the fact that my father was gazing morosely at the yellow blooms of a forsythia bush instead of sleeping, and instead of taking diligent notes my mother’s pen was still capped. There was also Emily leaning tensely against the deck railing looking furious. Hanging out on the deck with Mom and Dad wasn’t exactly Emily’s style. I actually couldn’t remember the last time we’d all sat and had a conversation together, any kind of conversation. Well, our first try sure was going to be a doozy.

“Hi, Mom,” I said as we stepped onto the deck. My mother just stared at me. It was my father who leaped to his feet and gently cupped my cheeks, his long-fingered hands engulfing my face just as they had when I was little.

“No,” he said, and in that one word I heard his heart breaking. “No, no, no. Not your lovely face.”

“I’m okay, Dad,” I said, giving him a hug. Lucas’s arms were magic, but nothing could compare to a hug from my dad. “I got away.”

“Of course you did, my smart girl,” he said, holding me at arm’s length. His eyes were watery, but I was impressed to see he was holding back the tears. “We Archers are tough. We know how to fight.” This was amusing, given the fact that I didn’t think my bookish father had ever been in a fight in his life.

“Come let me see,” my mother commanded in her no-nonsense voice. I sat down in the chair next to hers and let her peel off the bandages and assess the wounds.

She didn’t speak for several moments and she didn’t try to hold me, but I could see her concern in the way she sighed and bit her lip and re-taped the gauze so carefully. Her dark eyes explored every inch of my face as though trying to reassure herself that there were no other wounds I was hiding. I wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news that my worst wounds weren’t on my face.

“You should take the bandages off completely when it’s scabbed over,” she said with the confidence of a mother. “Daddy can take you to see his plastic surgeon friend in the city in a few weeks about the scarring.”

I nodded to show I understood, but I wasn’t so sure about it. Sometimes scars were a good reminder of what you’d been through and what you would never do again.

They wanted to know all the details of Brandon’s attack and my escape and his arrest and I filled them in as best I could, much as it pained me. My father kept saying the words, “But he’s locked up now,” as if to reassure me—or himself—that the danger had passed, that I’d survived. Again. My mother listened very closely to my every word and I could see her lawyer’s brain going through the next steps, envisioning the upcoming court dates. I left it to her. Personally, I didn’t want to think about it, not until I had to.

Though I could see Emily trying not to cry when I described the moment when Brandon pulled out his knife, otherwise she didn’t react at all.

I’d almost forgotten Lucas was there when my mother suddenly said, “And who’s this young man who wandered outside with you? Did you hire yourself a bodyguard?”

“Not a bad idea,” I heard my father mutter. He didn’t seem to be kidding.

Lucas was leaning against the railing next to my sister, looking like he felt incredibly out of place. I shot out of my chair and took his arm, shooting him an apologetic look.

“Mom, Dad, this is Lucas,” I said, “my…boyfriend.” As Lucas shook their hands, calling them Mr. and Mrs. Archer, which really seemed to impress my father, I glanced at Emily, trying to gauge her reaction. But she was staring steadily out at the covered pool.

“Well, Lucas
Matthews
,” my mother began, emphasizing the last name she’d pried out of me weeks before on the phone, “where on earth were you when all this was happening?” She gestured at my face.

“Mom!” I cried. Five seconds. After meeting someone for the first time, my mother always gave them at least five full seconds before pouncing. She was considerate that way. “What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense.”

Lucas went very still as I looked to my father for help. Not that he was ever any help when my mother was concerned. He shrugged and pointed at her, as if to say,
What can I do?

“She has every right to ask,” Lucas said to me. “I was taking an exam when Katie was attacked. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there.”

“This isn’t your fault. Not even a little. Not in any way,” I protested. “It’s not your responsibility to keep me safe.”

“Yes it is!” Lucas said loudly enough to make us all stare. “That’s what it means to love someone. You keep them safe. You take care of them. Always.”

I could see my mother’s raised eyebrows at his use of the word “love,” and then I saw her gaze moving over to me.

“Well, I won’t have it,” I said. “I’m not going to let Brandon Tomko hurt anyone else that I care about. I’m not going to let him take anyone else away from me.”

“Who’s he taken from you, darling?” my mother asked.

“Tommy,” my father answered.

“Yeah, Tommy,” I said, “and, in a way, he took me, too.” Their puzzled looks said it all. The time had come to fill in the blanks. I was ready to put my days of lying behind me. I was ready to tell. “There’s something I need to tell you guys, something I should have told you a long time ago. It’s big.”

“How big?” Emily said.

So big I don’t know how to start. So big I’m afraid it will change everything. So big I can’t hold it in anymore
.

“Six years big,” I answered.

Lucas and I sat down at the table with Mom, and then Dad and Emily joined us. It was nice to see all the people I loved in one place like that. Too bad it had to happen now, right before I gave them the news that would tear us apart.

I was glad to have told the same story to Lucas just a few days before, to have those words to guide me, because without them I would have been lost. I started again with Ricky and Tommy and the babysitting job I wished I’d never had, then went on from there. I was proudest of the fact that I didn’t cry when I came to the moment when I found Tommy’s mangled body—probably because I’d cried so much the night before—though the looks on my parents’ faces almost pushed me over the edge. Then came the trial and my many, many lies, and the fallout that took me through high school. My mother kept flinching as I described my terrible depression. My father held his head in his hands.

I watched their horror grow when I began to describe Brandon’s harassment during the lead-up to his release. Only when I explained it did I realize I’d never found out from him who had made that first post and sent all those texts. I decided then and there to let that mystery die. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, searching for Brandon’s accomplices.

Once I reached the events of the night before, my father was weeping. Even Lucas had closed his eyes. Only my mother was still staring at me, following every word. But there were no more words. I’d said it all.

I took a few deep breaths, staring through the glass tabletop at my feet, before meeting their eyes. Under the table, Lucas put his hand on my leg and squeezed.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dad said, his eyes bloodshot. In his tone I heard a combination of despair and outrage, as though he wanted to scream at me but didn’t have the heart. “Didn’t you trust me? I could’ve… I would’ve…” He trailed off, his thoughts caught up in all the things he could have and would have done, if he’d known.

“I was afraid,” I said. A tear rolled down my cheek. “I couldn’t face it. I was only thirteen. I thought I was to blame because I’d said all those terrible things about Ricky. Even if Brandon killed the wrong boy, it still felt as though it was my fault. And then once I’d told all those lies—”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” my mother said forcefully, cutting me off. “No, you were just a girl.
I
was the mother.
I
should have seen the truth…”

“No, Mom, don’t—” I implored, but there was no stopping her now.

“I knew,” she said, nodding her head. “I knew something was the matter. You changed so suddenly and you had this look in your eyes all the time. A mother knows.” She was wringing her hands. “I didn’t want to see it. I wanted you to be stronger than it, to beat it. But you were just a girl and I should have been there for you. To think of what you went through while I was off in court, fighting for other people’s daughters. I should have been fighting for you!” My father was talking to her in low tones, trying to reason with her, but she was beyond reason now. “No,
you
told me,” she said to my father. “You saw it, too. But Dr. Lepore…he was nothing. We should have taken her to the best therapist in the city. We should have tried harder. I should have made her tell me!”

She began to weep. My steadfast, indomitable mother who never cried, ever. I’d broken her.

“I’m sorry, darling,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry!”

Her face was buried in my father’s shoulder, but she reached blindly for my hand and I caught it, too shocked to do anything else. I looked at Lucas, my mouth hanging open. I’d imagined this conversation a thousand times in my head. I’d expected screams, accusations, even contempt. I’d expected her to be outraged at my perjury on the stand. Never once had I imagined this.

“You’re
sorry
?” Emily cried, jumping to her feet so quickly her chair fell over behind her. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her cheeks pink with emotion.

Oh no, Em
, I thought.
Not you. You’re the one who’s always on my side. You’re the one who loves me no matter what.

Her lips quivered as she stared down at me. “You’ve been lying to me about this for
six years
? What happened to ‘twins tell each other everything?’ How could you keep this from me?”

I looked at her beseechingly. “I-I wanted to tell you, but—”

“Brandon was your boyfriend? Brandon’s been stalking you? Brandon killed Tommy because you told him to? Who
are
you? You are not my sister. That is not my sister’s life!” She smacked her hand down on the table so hard the umbrella shook above us.

“Emmy,” Dad said, a warning tone in his voice, “you have to think of what she went through. Think of it from her point of view.”

“I
am
her point of view!” Emily shrieked. I don’t think anyone at the table understood what she meant, but I did. We were sisters, twins. She’d followed me to Queen’s without a second thought. I texted her every day. Her friends became my friends. We defended each other, pulled for each other. When we were little we believed we had the same thoughts. She was mine and I was hers, but I’d betrayed that. It was an epic breach of trust.