Hey, Asshole.
I’m going to come talk to you. But just in case you don’t let me finish talking, I’m sending this, too.
You’re a good person. You’ve always been a good person.
I don’t know how it started with Zoe or why, but what I do know is that Corinne is your better half. She makes you a better person, and I know you love her.
I don’t care what you have to do to disentangle yourself from Zoe, but for the love of God, do it, man.
I only want the best for you. And for Corinne.
We’re a family, and we’ll always be a family, no matter what. So I’m not judging you. To be honest, you’re the best man I know. But men, by design, are fallible.
You’ve made a mistake. Own it. Confess it.
Then make it up to her.
She loves you, too. Every bit as much as you love her. What you have is rare, so don’t be a dumbass. Fix it.
And also, I don’t say it enough, but I love you. I don’t want you to think that I’m anything other than disappointed. Everyone falls sometimes, bro.
You just have to get back up.
Make it right.
I love you.
Tears fill my eyes until the words blur together. My last correspondence with my brother had to be about Zoe. This devastates me.
But Michel’s very last words to me were that he loved me.
God, I hope he knows how much I loved him, too.
63
Corinne
“You’ve been through more trauma in your life than most people can even imagine,” Dr. Phillips summarizes, sitting in the chair next to my bed. Given the circumstances, he made a house call.
I nod.
“I know.”
My sister sits next to me, holding my hand, even though her face is stony. She hasn’t said much, but she’s judging me. I know she’s judging me.
I stare out the window, at the rain, at the dead leaves plastered against the window, at the oranges and reds and the gray sky.
“You were raped, Corinne. You killed someone to protect yourself. Your father killed someone to protect you, and he’s in prison. I’m sure you have latent guilt that you weren’t processing.”
I do have guilt. I think of my father in that prison jumpsuit and behind the glass with the hardened eyes and the graying hair, and I do feel guilt.
“He didn’t have to kill anyone for me,” I say limply. “I didn’t ask for that.”
“You didn’t have to ask,” Jackie interrupts, her mouth twisted in torment. “Jesus, Corinne. He’s our father. He loves you. He did it without asking.”
Dr. Phillips interjects. “Of course you didn’t ask him. But as a father, walking in and seeing someone violate his daughter, his rage clouded his judgment. It’s not your fault. You need to realize that. None of it was your fault. You didn’t ask to be raped. You didn’t ask for your innocence to be stripped away or for anyone to die or for your life to be irrevocably changed. Do you realize that?”
“Logically, I realize that,” I agree. “But my heart... I think it’s going to take some time to convince. It feels like I could’ve stopped it.”
“You couldn’t have,” Dr. Phillips argues. “But we’ll work on that.”
Jackie watches me, her fingers like a steel birdcage around my own. “I don’t in any way think you could’ve stopped what happened,” she tells me, trying to clarify. “What I’m upset with you for...is that our father has been sitting in jail for years, and you wouldn’t even visit him. I know right now isn’t the best time to address this, but I’m pissed about that, Corinne.”
A lump is in my throat, and I can’t swallow it.
It’s the story of my life lately.
“I know,” I tell her softly. “I’m pissed about it, too. There’s a lot I’m pissed about. I don’t even know how to process all of the things I’m pissed about.”
For a minute, her gaze softens, and I see sympathy in her eyes and I hate that.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I tell her. “Don’t.”
She squeezes my fingers. “My emotions are confusing, Co. I’m mad at you, and I love you. Don’t ever forget that part. I love you.”
Dr. Phillips glances at Jackie. “Your feelings are normal,” he observes. “You’ve been affected by this trauma, too. Be gentle with yourself. You’ve got to process this, too. Everything we’re dealing with here...it’s a lot. But I know you love each other, you and Corinne. It’s apparent to everyone who knows you.”
She nods and I nod because it’s true.
The knot tightens again in my throat, and I stare out the window again, and I find myself humming the stupid song. “Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie...”
I tell Dr. Phillips the significance of it.
“Jessica had been playing her mom’s cassette tape. She kept rewinding this song, over and over. It was her favorite. It was playing when her dad raped me. And then as her parents died.”
“Sound is a very significant memory trigger,” he answers thoughtfully. “Try to avoid the song for now. Avoid anything that might trigger panic. We’re going to use some EMDR in the next few weeks to try to stabilize your memories and make them more tolerable. In the meantime, would you like to try to call your father? We can do it here so that I’m able to facilitate.”
I’m startled, then afraid, but Jackie is squeezing my hand so so tightly.
“Please, Co. Please,” she begs me. “It would mean so much to him. You have to. Please.”
Dr. Phillips pats my hand. “It’ll be okay,” he tells me. “It’s up to you. But I think you need to do this to start your healing.”
I nod wordlessly, and he calls the prison. While they get my father, Dr. Phillips puts the call on speaker and I wait, fidgeting with Jackie’s fingers. I twirl her wedding ring round and round. It’s minutes before my dad’s voice comes on the line.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Friess, this is Dr. Phillips, your daughter Corinne’s therapist. I’ve got Corinne and Jackie both here. We’re here to talk about that Halloween night seventeen years ago.”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” my father says abruptly. “Anything else?”
“Daddy?” my voice sounds small, like it did when I was eighteen.
My father pauses.
When he speaks, his voice is gentler. “Yeah?”
“I remember what happened.”
He’s silent again for a very long time.
“Are you still there, Mr. Friess?”
“Yeah. Baby, you okay?”
My father is my dad now, familiar and loving. I start to cry, and my shoulders shake, and my father reassures me.
“Don’t cry, baby. It’s okay. It’s not bad here. I’d do it all over again, I swear it.”
I cry until I’m cried out.
“It wasn’t your fault,” my father finally says gently, and I hear tears in his voice, too. “Your mother never wanted you to remember. That’s why she didn’t take you to a therapist. I hope you forgive us. We only wanted to protect you.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, and I wipe at my wet eyes.
“Daddy,” Jackie says, and her voice is thin. “Corinne is sorry she hasn’t come to see you.”
I feel a pang of resentment that she’s speaking for me, but she’s doing what she feels she has to do, what she has to do in order to deal with all of this. I remain silent, and my dad immediately answers.
“Don’t hold it against her, Jacks,” he says, and he’s almost stern. “I don’t. She didn’t know. What she went through that night...” His voice is jagged like glass, and it breaks. Jackie’s eyes fill up with tears because we’ve never heard our father cry. Not ever.
“I’m pregnant,” I tell him through my tears.
“Lord, that’s good news,” he says. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for years. You deserve a family, Corinne. Make a family with that man of yours, and be happy for me. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
My heart breaks because of Jude, and I don’t know what’s going to happen with him. But I don’t tell my father. Instead, I tell him, “I’m on bed rest right now, but when they let me up, I’ll come see you. I’ll try to make this right. We’ll get a lawyer and get you out of there.”
“That’d be real good, Cori-kid.”
My heart constricts at the old nickname.
“I love you, Daddy.”