As much as I might hate Toby right now and think his actions were deplorable, I can’t stop a huge part of me understanding.
I wish I didn’t. But I do.
I spent too long looking into the eyes of a scared little boy not to understand his need for revenge. His need to cause the man who hurt him and his mum the same pain.
But understanding is never going to make what he did right. And understanding and forgiving are very different things.
I put off going downstairs for as long as possible, despite the fact that Mum knows I’m alive because I found a cup of coffee waiting for me in my bedroom when I returned.
I’ve refused to talk to her the past few days, and she’s mostly respected my privacy to fall apart alone. I have no idea what Bri has said to her, but I know it’s not the truth, because I swore her to secrecy with the details I gave her about that night. Not that I even came close to telling her everything. I mean, how can I even explain all of that? It was utter insanity. The kind of shit you expect to see in a fucked-up documentary. Stuff like that is not meant to happen in real life.
It’s not until my hair is dried and straightened that I finally sum up the courage to head downstairs.
With my now cold mug clutched in my hands, I go in search of Mum. I can’t put this conversation off any longer.
I need to know the truth. I deserve to know the truth.
The second I come to a stop in the kitchen doorway, she pauses what she’s doing and looks up at me.
“Jodie,” she breathes, as if she can’t quite believe I’m standing here.
“Hey,” I say quietly, stepping farther into the room, noticing that she’s in the middle of baking my favourite cookies.
Whenever I was sad as a kid, she would always make them for me. Just the scent of them baking would cheer me up in an instant.
I’m not sure they’ll have that effect today though. My misery and pain are too deeply ingrained right now for sugar to fix much.
“Take a seat, I’ll make you another,” she says, nodding to the empty mug in my hands.
“Thanks.” My voice is hard, void of the emotions that are causing a storm inside of me as I pass it over and do as she suggested.
“It’s so good to see you up and about. I was so worried—”
“Did you know?” I blurt without meaning to.
I’ve spent almost as much time obsessing about her part in this as I have Toby’s actions over the past four days that I can’t hold it in anymore.
She pauses, the set of her shoulders hard as she grips onto the counter as if she needs it to hold her up.
“Did you know… about them? About his other family.”
Mum doesn’t say anything, but the way she hangs her head tells me everything I need to know.
“Baby,” she starts, spinning around to face me.
“No, Mum. Don’t baby me. I’m an adult. I deserve to know the truth. I’ve deserved it for a long time, actually.”
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” she says sadly before turning back to the coffee machine.
I don’t ever remember feeling uncomfortable in my mum’s company before, but those few moments while she makes us both a fresh drink are unbearable. Uncertainty swirls around inside me like a brewing storm, reminding me that despite my hope, she’s probably going to tell me something I’m not going to want to hear.
After what feels like an eternity, she finally walks toward me and lowers my coffee with a trembling hand.
“Talk to me, Jodie.”
“Me?” I hiss in disbelief. “I’m not the one who needs to be talking. You’ll tell me everything you know, remember?” I say, throwing her words back in her face.
“I know, I know. And I will. I just want to know what you already know.”