Shatter (True Believers #4)(61)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“But I worry about Jonathon,” I told her. “It must be horrible for him. All the talk. Knowing that this is his father. It’s such a betrayal.”

“It is horrible and I feel partly responsible for that.” She sipped her iced tea. “I should have told him the truth when he wanted to come to school here. He thought he was doing me a favor financially, and he was, but I would have preferred he had never seen his father. Ever. Because I never told him the truth, that I was one of those naïve undergrads who was flunking my class and Ben offered to help me study and, well, he raped me. He wouldn’t think of it that way, he would say I came there willingly, that I didn’t stop him, but I tried to stop him. Then I just froze and let it happen. I let it happen because I was eighteen and I was scared and I just wanted it to be over with. It felt easier.”

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” I reached across the table and took her hand in mine.

“Then I found out I was pregnant and I decided to fight for child support, but I wasn’t brave, Kylie. I didn’t stop him and I didn’t speak out. I kept my mouth shut and I kept the peace and I raised my son alone, thinking that was the end of it. I never dreamed that he was, well, a sexual predator. I just thought that I had given him signals, I had been in awe of him and attracted to him. Not that I’m suggesting I deserved what he did, because I didn’t, but I thought I should have been more forceful in making it clear that I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. We all deal with situations differently, and it pisses me off that people shift blame to the victim. I wasn’t personally violated here. It was much easier for me to speak out, and even that was hard, because I knew I would be hurting people I care about. Everyone is going to have an opinion and I’m sure there are people right now on campus saying terrible things about me, calling me a slut, with every guy I’ve ever been involved with crawling out of the woodwork, but that’s okay. I know the truth. And you know the truth about what happened to you and you don’t have to keep that burden to yourself anymore.”

She nodded, her grip still in mine. The corner of her mouth turned up. “And here I thought that Jonathon said what worries you is that you’re not smart enough for him.”

“I do.”

“Honey, there are all kinds of smart, and you just spoke the wisdom of compassion. Give yourself a little more credit.”

I sucked in a breath. She was right. I did need to give myself more credit.

“And I also want to point out that like you, I was failing chemistry, and Jonathon has never made me feel stupid or inferior to him. He loves me for the whole package, for being his mother, not for my ability to do equations. That’s the thing, Kylie—we have different people in our lives for different reasons.”

“I never thought of it that way. I think you have the wisdom of compassion yourself.”

She laughed. “Maybe I can flatter myself that Jonathon chose a woman like his mother.”

We ordered lunch and ate, talking about random things, her telling me stories about Jonathon as a little boy, and it was nice to get to know her, to see where Jonathon had gotten his personality, his warmth. When it was time to leave, she gave me a hug.

“I’m having a graduation dinner for Jonathon on Thursday. Why don’t you surprise him and come?”

“Oh, that’s probably a bad idea to surprise him.” It was ridiculously tempting, but wow. Talk about blindsiding him.

“Just think about it. You can come early before my family arrives.”

I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

But it turned out I didn’t have to think about it.

As I left my final exam for chemistry on Thursday morning, palms sweating, temples throbbing, shoulders tense, but feeling like I had passed, Jonathon was in the hallway.

“Oh!” I stopped, confused, not sure why he was there. Probably to speak to the interim professor. “Hi.”

I started to move away, down the hall, but he touched my arm. “Kylie.”

“Yes?”

“How did the exam go?”

I couldn’t read his expression. I nodded. “Okay. I think I passed.”

“Good. I knew you could do it.” His eyes swept over me. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure I could say the same about him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Mm . . .” then had the symbol for pi next to it. It showed that he had started a second tattoo sleeve on the opposite arm, with something that looked like coding.

I wanted to hug him. I wanted to breathe him in. I had missed him so much, painfully so, but never more than right then, when he was in front of me and I had no right to touch him. I ached.

“Congratulations on passing your thesis.”

“Thanks. How did you know about that?”

His mother. “I just assumed you would pass.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Do you have another exam now? Can I walk with you?”

“No. And yes. I was just going to go sit outside for a while. The warm sun feels good.”

He put his hand on the small of my back as we went down the stairs and out the door. I sat on the concrete steps outside and leaned against the retaining wall. He dropped down beside me, digging in his messenger bag for his phone. He held it up to me.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at,” I told him. It was an e-mail, some kind of acceptance letter.

“I got accepted to Northwestern’s post-doc program. It’s one of the best in the country for theoretical chemistry.”

“Wow, then definitely congratulations.” My heart started to race. He was here to say good-bye. This was it. For real. He was here to tell me I was never going to see him again. “That’s a huge accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself.” I meant that genuinely, even when I was suddenly gripping the knees of my jeans with my fingernails. “Where is Northwestern?” I tried to sound casual, but my voice sounded far away, tight.

“Evanston, Illinois. Just north of Chicago.”

That was far away. Not the other side of the country, but seven hours by car. Two states away. Near Chicago, where all the attractions of the city, where being twenty-six and trendy and smart, with the potential for making a large income, was all within his reach.

“It’s beautiful there. Right on Lake Michigan. You couldn’t ask for a better place to live, really. Conveniences of Chicago, but more of a small-town feel.”