The Lie(78)

But Natasha reaches out and holds my pinky finger, just enough contact to let me know that she’s there for me, and somehow it gives me the courage to find my first words.

“We’re here tonight,” I say to the black river, my voice cracking already. “To give our respects to Miranda Harding and Hamish Harding McGregor. They were taken from this world unexpectedly and unfairly, far too soon, on this day, four years ago.” I take in a deep breath, closing my eyes. The air is salty, oily, smelling faintly of sewage. “I don’t think this day will get any easier. I don’t think any day will, as they live in more than just my memory. They live in my dreams and in my heart. They live in my soul, and that’s a place I will gladly keep them. I just wish…I want them to know how sorry I am for everything I ever did to hurt them. I want them to know that I truly did love them, in one way or another. Though Miranda and I had our differences, she was still the mother of my child and I respected that. I would give anything to reach back in time and prevent it all from happening. I wouldn’t have let her near the Scotch. I wouldn’t have let her near Hamish. I would have had the foresight to see this unfolding and hidden her car keys. I would have done anything.”

I’m very aware that I’ve never opened up to Natasha about what went on that night, and I can tell from the way the tears are leaking from her eyes, by the way her hand squeezes my finger, that it’s hitting her hard.

I continue, my throat thick. “There are so many things I could have done to prevent their deaths and not a second goes by that I don’t regret it. That I don’t wish upon wish that I could turn back the clock and make things right. But one thing I’ve slowly, very slowly, learned not to regret is why I talked to Miranda in the first place.” I glance over at Natasha who is staring at me with wide, glossy eyes. “I don’t regret that. I don’t take that back. Because it was the truth and the truth needed to be said. Maybe some things are better left in the dark, but that’s never something I believed in. Once I realized what was to never be, I couldn’t live the lie. The truth hurts. In this case it killed. But I refuse to be shackled to that guilt anymore. I refuse to live my life in shame because I fell in love with someone else and because I chose to do the right thing, even if it was barely right above a sea of wrongs. I’ve needed to make peace with this, and I think Hamish, and deep down, Miranda, would agree. Their loss has robbed me of life and soul and irrevocably changed so many lives. But I also know they would both want me to move on, to keep going, to be happy.”

I sigh and lift the bouquet of flowers, breaking off a few petals. “I did the wrong thing and tried to do the right thing. But this is no longer about my own guilt or shame or suffering. This is just about two very special humans who were taken far too soon, whom I miss every single day, whom I wish I could see just once more. This is about the lives of Miranda and Hamish, and the people they loved and those who loved them.”

I sprinkle the light petals on the dark water. They look like stars bobbing around in a moving sky. I take out the dinosaur stickers and do the same. “I love you, little guy. And I miss you. Like you wouldn’t bloody believe. And I know, I know you’re with me sometimes. Or perhaps, like you say in my dreams, all the time. I’m so sorry I never got to know the man you would become. I’m sorry the world was robbed of knowing you, too. But something tells me—maybe it’s just foolish hope—that I’ll still know. No matter the years that pass, I’ll still know you. In here.” I press my fist against my heart and try to breathe. It’s so fucking hard. “I love you.”

Then I collapse to the ground, my legs having had enough.

Natasha goes with me, trying to hold me up, but I can’t. I just end up holding on to her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, like I can’t hold on hard enough. I’m crying, sobbing into her shoulder, feeling so much love and so much pain choke me at once. It’s a maddening descent into darkness and I feel myself slipping.

But she is light. She gives me light. She holds on and tells me that I’m a good man and that I deserve to be forgiven, deserve to let go. She tells me beautiful things, and I feel her belief, I feel her strength even though I know the darkness has her too. I wonder if it will always be like this, the mutual drowning, the downward spiral of the two of us, holding hands as we go.

And I wonder if we will always lift each other out of it.

But then, as the night ticks on and we lie by the river, huddled together in each other’s arms, a desperate and wild embrace, I know I don’t have to wonder.