Page 59 of The Woman I’ve Become

“Well,” I admit, “I guess you have a point. If it’s Casey, then I suppose he decided that back then I had as much to lose as he did and that alone would keep me quiet.”

“That’s still the case,” she argues. “You would be in a bad position if the truth came out.”

If she only knew. “Yes, I still have much to lose, but I almost died in that car accident. Sometimes when people are facing death, they feel the need to clear their conscience. Maybe he worries I’m thinking of doing that. Especially considering the memoir I mentioned in that podcast.”

She stares at me for a long moment before asking, “Do you feel that need? To clear your conscience?”

Sharing those details about him and the betrayal appears to have struck a chord. Whatever she expects I’ll say, I say the truth. “No.”

Another lingering stare, then, “And her—your friend Wendy—do you believe she is out there and wants revenge for how you walked away after catching her with Casey that day?”

We’ve been over this as well, but she wants more. I can’t give her more, not yet, anyway. Still, I think of that day, and, really, I do wish I could go back and do things differently. But there are no true do-overs when it comes to such profound, life-changing decisions. You might say or do some little something to hurt a friend and be able to go back and apologize in hopes of gaining a fresh start. But when you take something so adored or leave them at the devil’s door and walk away, you can’t fix that kind of choice. There are no do-overs for that level of betrayal—deserved or not.

Looking at Acacia and how she is obviously on the edge of her seat to hear my answer, I want to ask doesn’t she know already? Hasn’t the one other person who knows all my secrets—well, many of them at least—the one who is actually paying her to be here told her this story already? Perhaps it’s better if I simply allow the situation to evolve naturally.

“Maybe revenge is the goal. I can’t be sure.” I practically inhale the soup. I had no idea how hungry I was. Finally, I add, “The truth is, I have no idea if she’s alive or dead.”

“You’re right.” Acacia selects one of the crackers and nibbles a crispy edge. “She could be dead. Which is sort of like you killed her.”

Her words surprise me since I expected her to know plenty about what happened. Wouldn’t she need to be aware of certain things to do what she’s here to do? Maybe not. Or maybe the story she was given isn’t matching up to mine, and she’s feeling confused. In any event, it’s difficult to measure exactly what she’s been told and the degree of truth involved. As for her accusation, I suppose it’s true—figuratively speaking.

“I guess you could say that.”

She appears pleased that I’ve given her that one.

“Getting back to this Casey guy, you think he’s worried you’re feeling the need to get your bad deeds off your chest so there’s a better chance you won’t go to hell.”

I lay my spoon down and consider her a moment. “You’re assuming I believe in hell.”

“Either way, you get what I’m saying,” she urges before devouring the last of the cracker. A crumb sticks to her lower lip.

I lick my lips and say what she obviously wants to hear. “I have no idea what he thinks. But if you are suggesting I should feel some measure of regret, the answer is yes. I do regret that what happened, happened. But I can’t undo it, and I’ve paid a price for that decision.”

“What price?” Her faces takes on an aha expression. “You mean the mere week you spent in captivity?”

More of that sarcasm I’ve come to see is her preferred attitude. If she only knew the rest of the story. “Yes.”

“Did she cause that to happen to you?” Acacia pushes.

Her continued grilling is growing tedious. “I think we’ve discussed this long enough.” I force myself to finish off the soup.

“What about Casey? You said you loved him. But did you really? I mean, seriously love him.”

“I was enthralled by him as young girls often are.”

“But you can’t say you loved him,” she counters.

I say what I know to be true in an effort to close down this avenue of discussion. “Yes. No question. But it was young, inexperienced, foolish love.”

“Not like what you feel for Phillip?”

Now she is just trying to piss me off. “Nothing like that, no.” Actually at this point I have no idea what I feel for Phillip.

“Would you want to kill Casey if you have the chance?”

Now there’s a telling question. I start to say I have never wanted to kill anyone, but that’s not entirely true. I stare at her for a long moment before deciding to, again, say what I truly feel. “I would kill him as many times as it takes to ensure he stays dead.”

“I guess he deserves that.” Acacia reaches for my bowl and spoon.