“My grandfather was furious that your dad would dare to sue him. My father was hurt and angry over my mother messing around. And your parents had plenty of reason to hate us as well. So when you and I ended up becoming friends, it practically started a war all over again.”
“Wow,” is all I can say. I struggle to sit up, and Sawyer rises to help me. He lifts me gently, and his fingers linger on my shoulders before he sits back down.
“We hid our friendship really well, for a while, at least,” he says ruefully. “Didn’t we?”
“Until I saw you—” I say as he says, “Until the day before—”
“Seventh grade,” we say together.
“My father saw you with your dad, saw your smile, and he watched my face light up to see you. He knew it wasn’t just an acquaintance kind of smile. Back at home we ‘had a talk,’ which consisted of him and my grandfather telling me I was not to speak to you again, ever. When I protested, my grandfather got so enraged, he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to my room. And then he started hitting me.”
“Oh, Sawyer,” I whisper.
He shoves his chair back and starts working his hands together. “He beat me pretty hard, but not anywhere you could see bruises. He was very careful about that. My mother couldn’t do anything—he threatened her, too, threatened to force my dad to divorce her after what she’d done, take us kids away from her, and leave her with no money.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s different when a man like that lives with you. Holds so much power over you—there’s no way you could understand.” He taps his fingers on the chair arms, distraught. “So I agreed to stop talking to you just to get him to lay off me. And that time,” he says, standing up and starting to pace around the bed, “that one time you and I had to do a project together, he found out somehow. And he beat me up, even though I cried and told him that I didn’t have any control over who got paired up. It didn’t matter. He wanted to make sure we never spent time together, ever again.”
I don’t know what to say.
Sawyer paces, agitated. “But the worst thing is that I let him hold that over me so long, even up until last week, even though I could probably take him in a fight now if I had to. He just kept that fear and control over me like he has over my parents, and I was just dead inside. All that time I didn’t talk to you, Jules, I wanted to. I watched you. I saw your hurt face and I made a choice against you. I didn’t do the right thing.” He rips his fingers through his hair and I can tell he’s upset at himself. “I’m so beyond sorry. And I’m not letting that happen ever again, even if it means I have to walk out on all of them.”
He comes over to the bed and grips the side rail. “I can’t believe I kept walking away from you instead of them, over and over. Even after you said . . . what you said . . . in the middle of the night. And the other day at school. It killed me, walking away from you at lunch, but . . .” He shakes his head. “It’s no excuse. But then you almost died because you wanted to save me. And it finally sank in. I’m the biggest idiot on the planet. And I’m done making bad choices out of fear.”
I don’t have any words to say. All I can do is watch him pull his heart out and set it in front of me. Watch him tell me he cared about me too, all that time. Watch him say how sorry he is, how much he wants to be the opposite of the kind of guy that his grandfather and father are. Watch him stand there, asking me to give him another chance.
And what am I supposed to do?
Thirty-Seven
But before I can say anything to Sawyer, strangers wearing scrubs come in to announce the removal of my catheter. Awesome. Thanks, guys.
Sawyer makes a hasty retreat, and before you know it, I have my faculties back, and they have me easing out of bed and standing, and then walking a few steps, and every muscle in my entire body screams at me. By the time I get back in bed and have some dinner, I’m done for. Trey comes back to say good night, and he looks tired too.
And as much as I want to continue the conversation with Sawyer, I definitely need to rest. I tell Trey to send Sawyer home. With Mom and Dad coming, there’s no reason for him to stay and make the situation worse.
I’m not really sure what to think about what Sawyer told me, and it’s a little hard to process. Maybe because it’s so weird to imagine my dad having an affair, and maybe because of the painkillers—everything is taking just a little longer to comprehend these days. But what I have comprehended is that my dad is a big rotten cheater, and my mom just keeps smiling that agonized smile all the time, and now I think I know why. Just who the hell does he think he is?
I don’t want to see Dad, that’s for sure. Before Sawyer left, I promised him I wouldn’t say anything. I don’t want to cause more problems between our families, especially now.
• • •
When my parents come they wake me up, and I remember all over again.
It’s like I’m looking at two strangers. I wonder why my mom stayed with him. I wonder why Mr. Angotti stayed with Sawyer’s mom. Maybe it was for our sakes.
I can’t actually stand the thought of talking to my father right now, so I just focus on Mom and Rowan. They made it through Valentine’s Day without Trey or me, and customers were sympathetic. Today, too, the place was packed with supporters, they said. Seems we got an unexpected sympathy rush out of the ordeal, which is awesome. I guess. Dad hired Aunt Mary’s deadbeat son, our cousin Nick, to help out for a while until Trey is feeling up to coming back.