Page 86 of Jar of Hearts
“Why didn’t you turn yourself in? If you didn’t kill her, and you were only sixteen, why not come clean? You were practically a kid. I bet nothing would have happened to you.”
Geo slumps. Obviously she expected they were going to talk about this, but she didn’t expect the conversation to be so hard, for Dominic to be so purposeful in his quest for information. She desperately wants to give him an answer that makes sense to him, but she isn’t sure that it’s possible, since she’s not sure it makes sense to her.
“I think I justified it by telling myself it wouldn’t bring Angela back,” she finally says. “That she knew I loved her, and I was sorry and never meant for any of it to happen. I was very, very drunk that night, which I know doesn’t excuse anything, but I was, and if I hadn’t been, I might have been able to save her. But I didn’t, and she died. And her family…” Closing her eyes, Geo takes a deep breath. “They suffered because of me. They spent years wondering what happened to her, making themselves sick over it, and all that time I could have given them answers. I didn’t, and then fourteen years later, when the truth came out, they had new, fresh grief to deal with.”
“Covering up her death was a mistake,” Dominic says. “Even if you killed her, that might have been forgivable. But lying about it for so long? Moving on with your life, while her parents suffered, wondering what happened to their kid? I mean, that’s acharacter issue. That’s really the part that makes you a terrible person.”
He says it with no trace of humor or irony or bullshit. They are simply words, strung together in a specific way, and they cut deeper than any knife or blade could have. And there is no way to defend herself. He is absolutely right. Her son, only eighteen, has pegged her in one breath. Because she is a terrible person.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“I know now where I get it from.” Dominic cracks his knuckles, glancing over at the mantel where the family pictures are once again. “Between my biological parents and my adoptive parents, there was really no hope for me, was there? Nori and Mark never really loved me, I don’t think.”
“But they did,” Geo says. She knows she sounds desperate, but she wants him to have something good, something positive, to hold on to. “I saw their faces the day you were born. They were over the moon with joy.”
“No, you sawherface,” Dominic spat. “My mother told me all about that day. She was thrilled, buthelooked like he was going to throw up.”
Shit. That was true. Geo’s mind flashes back to Mark Kent’s face, how pale he looked, as if he couldn’t believe this had actually happened, his eyes roving from side to side as if seeking an escape route. She hadn’t really noticed at the time. Or had she?
“My mother was always honest with me,” he continues. “Maybe too honest, you know? Like maybe she should have filtered some things, because as a kid there were certain things that I probably didn’t need to know. She told me the real reason they adopted me. They had been together since college, and Dad was getting bored. He’d already cheated on her a bunch of times. She thought a baby would fix things, that if they had a family, he wouldn’t go anywhere, but she couldn’t get pregnant. She hadovarian issues.” He said the last two words in a voice dripping with condescension. “So they started the adoption process. She didn’t really expect to get a baby out of it—they were young, not much money, had bought their first house. Shethought maybe the experience would bring them closer together, prove to Mark how bad she felt that she couldn’t give him kids of his own.”
“I didn’t know all of that,” Geo says, blinking away hot tears. It’s getting worse and worse, and she hadn’t even told him the worst thing of all yet. “I really didn’t. They looked so in love. Totally committed.”
“I guess you saw what you wanted to see.”
She hangs her head. Again, he was right. She had interviewed several couples before the Kents, couples who were older, had been together longer, had tried for a baby much harder. Why hadn’t she picked one of them?
Because she has terrible fucking judgment. About everything. All the time. That’s why.
“Anyway, she died,” Dominic says, the matter-of-fact tone back in his voice. “The last boyfriend, the one who was abusing me, was an alcoholic. They were coming back from dinner, he’d had too much to drink as usual, and he crashed the car into the side of a building. Do you know that fucker is still alive? She died instantly, the airbags didn’t deploy properly on her side. But he’s alive and living somewhere in Idaho. He’s a paraplegic, but whatever.”
“I’m so sorry.” Geo can’t seem to stop saying it. She’s full-out crying now, and she wipes the tears away furiously. “Dominic, I’m sorry. I never wanted this for you—”
“Then what did you want?” her son asks her. His gaze doesn’t waver. His face is open, his dark eyes alight with what appears to be genuine curiosity. “I’d really like to know that, Georgina. What did you want? What did you think, getting pregnant at sixteen by a murderer—”
“I didn’t want—”
“There had to have been signs,” Dominic says, oblivious to her reaction. “Warning signs, red flags, whatever you call it. Early on. Was my father—Calvin, not the other deadbeat—controlling? Was he violent? Did he ever hit you?”
Geo is shaking. She can’t answer, because she can’t speak. But of course she has to answer these questions, because she has to tell him about Calvin. About the monster Dominic’s father truly is.
“He did, didn’t he?” Dominic says this with wonder. “He hurt you. And you stayed anyway. You had sex with him, anyway. That shit turn you on?”
“It wasn’t sex, it was—” For the third and final time, Geo catches herself, stops. But it’s too late.
“It was rape.” Dominic finishes the sentence for her. The words hang in the air for a moment, and he then throws his head back and laughs. It’s a deep, guttural sound, from a place of pain, not amusement. “Holy fuck. This shit keeps getting better and better.”
“Dominic—”
“All right,” he says. “Deep breath. You were sixteen. That’s two years younger than me now, and I remember what a basket case I was two years ago. I get it, Georgina, I really do.” He pauses. “Wait. That sounds weird. Should I be calling you Georgina?”
“You can call me whatever you want,” she says, stifling her sobs. “Geo is fine.”
“Geo,” he says. “I like that. Do you have any more pictures? Of my grandparents? Do I have aunts or uncles? Cousins? Tell me more about the family.”
“There are a few photo albums upstairs in my dad’s room,” Geo says. She stands up, grateful for the opportunity to take a couple of minutes to compose herself. “But when I get back, there’s still something I need to tell you.”
She heads up the stairs and straight for the bathroom. She locks the door, then turns the cold water faucet on full blast. She cries hard for exactly two minutes, sobbing like a child, then forces herself to stop, splashing water on her face until the spasms subside. She stares at herself in the mirror, her skin blotchy, her eyeliner smudged. She wipes it away with a tissue.
