Page 175 of My Heart Still Beats
He nods.
“So I’m prepared to make an official statement,” I say, “along with my resignation from the company.”
“No. We’re not going down that road. You’re as big a part of Black Inc. as I am. I couldn’t do this without you. We’ll just conveniently announce your new foundation for underprivileged youth before any story breaks. That’ll soften the blow. And God knows I’ve done some stupid shit in my life. You know about most of it.”
“Most?” I ask.
“Brother, some things I’m taking to my grave.” He slaps me on the shoulder.
I silently thank God for my brother.
And then I ask for the strength I need.
The strength to reach out to the daughter of a man who’s dead because of me.
And the strength to let Tessa go.
Chapter Fifty-One
Tessa
After another week off work to deal with the fallout from Garrett and David’s visit to me—three grueling sessions with my therapist and an awkward conversation with my mother about my first communion, after which she threatened to leave the church but I talked her out of it—I’m back at work again.
But I’m good.
I didn’t go back to the dark place. I’ve learned a lot about myself, and I know now that my strength was inside me the whole time.
Ben helped me see that.
He’s been busy with his new charitable foundation, and I haven’t seen much of him. Just as well, as it’s taken that long for me to thoroughly work through the memories of my first communion and the attack by Garrett and David. Plus, my face is finally starting to look normal again.
Ben’s charity endeavors have me wanting to reach out as well. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can do to help others who have been through sexual assault. I smile as I remember Nana’s story of Saint Rita, about how she was willing to go through pain so others could be saved.
I can’t say I was willing to go through the pain in the first place. I didn’t have a choice in that. But I could do some good with it. Figure out a way to help others in similar situations.
I hum in my kitchen. I invited Ben over tonight, and I’m making him dinner. He hasn’t called me back to confirm, but I know he’ll be here.
This time I’m making simple tacos with homemade guacamole. No margaritas as I can’t drink alcohol until I finish my pain meds.
I turn the TV on to keep me company while I cook. Right now it’s a commercial for dog food. A different brand from the stuff I buy Rita. I know the jingle by heart, though. I sing along to it as I mash some avocadoes.
Then the commercial cuts short and the musical intro to the evening news plays.
I ignore it and add a couple tablespoons of olive oil to my guac.
I’m chopping up some cilantro when I hear a familiar name on the TV.
“Benjamin Black, the younger brother of the famous blue-collar billionaire Braden Black…”
Ben’s in the news?
But he’s a pretty famous guy, especially in Boston. His name is probably in the news all the time. This is just the first time it’s happened since we met.
I return to my preparations.
“Allegations made by Garrett Ramirez…”
I nearly drop my chef’s knife.
