XAVIER’S POV
I walked into the house, expecting a flurry of noises. Instead, I was greeted by an oppressive silence. I was certain Sarah and the kids were already home, and from the looks of it, the children weren’t the quiet type. So why did the place seem like a graveyard?
As I entered the living room, I found Sarah lying on the couch. As soon as she noticed me, she sat up and smiled softly. “Hey.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Hey. How was your day?”
Sarah shook her head, and I could sense the stories she’d tell and the frustration palpable no matter how she tried to conceal it.
“The day was great. And it will continue to be so,” she replied as I sat beside her, and upon hearing her optimism, I stared at her skeptically.
“Stop pretending.”
She chuckled, finally admitting to the fact. “Yeah, I survived,” she replied, laughing. “Barely. My friends helped me, and if you’re wondering, I already put them to sleep.”
That could explain why the house was so quiet.
I searched Sarah’s eyes and sensed how naturally she was trying to fit into the situation. She’d taken on the role of caregiver with surprising ease, despite that, I wanted to know how she genuinely felt about all of this.
I reached out to her hand resting on the couch and gently squeezed it, seeking a connection. “Sarah, I can see through the facade. You don’t like this.”
Sarah’s smile faltered, and she looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “No, it’s not that.” She denied with a chuckle, and upon sensing my seriousness, she sighed, her gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s just… being a temporary mom to three kids is overwhelming. I am trying to cope, and I…”
I pulled her close without letting her finish. “I know, I just wanted to hear it from you.”
She leaned into me, her eyes searching mine. “And what about you? This unconventional family we’ve become? What are you planning to do to make this work so we can all cope?”
I stroked her hair, my voice filled with conviction. “We’ll make it work, together. We’ll figure out what’s best for everyone, starting with hiring a nanny and house help. I’ve got some applications.”
She pulled away, her eyes wide in surprise. “That was quick.”
“Did you think I’d leave you to handle everything alone?” I asked, smiling.
Sarah’s expression softened, and she shook her head. “No, I just… I didn’t expect you to act so quickly.” Then her expression turned thoughtful. “So when are you going to tell me about what happened between you and Nicole? She mentioned a child named Damon in her letter.”
The subject I dreaded.
I looked away, staring into nothing in particular. I couldn’t bring myself to recount what happened, and I predicted Sarah wouldn’t skip that question; she had always been so inquisitive since discovering Nicole was my wife.
She gently took my face in her hands, her eyes locking onto mine, and I knew there was no escaping this. “One time you mentioned that you did something terrible and it was your fault you and Nicole broke up. She also mentioned Damon died…” She trailed off as her mind drifted. “Did you have anything to do with his death?” She paused, finally realizing what she had blurted out. “Oh sorry, I’m awful at brainstorming.”
I almost rolled my eyes at what she just said. Unknowingly to her, she was already putting the pieces together.
“You aren’t awful at brainstorming, and I think you should have been a detective,” I replied, and she just snorted as if I had cracked a joke.
“Are you kidding me now?”
“I’m not, and you’re right,” I said almost in a whisper as I averted my gaze, feeling a tight knot in my chest.
Sarah went silent, finally grasping my hint. “Wait a second, are you serious right now? You killed Damon?” she snapped in a loud whisper, pulling my face towards her.
I pushed her hands away; my face twisted with guilt and grief. “Kind of.”
Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, her face pale. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I stood up, pacing around the room, trying to evade the truth. But Sarah’s gaze followed me, demanding answers.
“Xavier, tell me,” she pressed, her voice firm but laced with concern, sensing how serious I sounded.
I stopped pacing and faced her, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. “I didn’t physically harm Damon, but my actions… my decisions led to his death.”
Sarah’s expression changed from shock to horror. “What happened?” she asked, standing up and walking towards me.
I took a deep breath, knowing the weight of what I was going to tell her would crush me. “He died in a car accident when he was four. I was… reckless and hot-headed.”
Sarah’s face contorted in anguish. “Oh, Xavier. That’s… that’s-”
“That’s not what you grew up to know about me, is it?” I cut her off; I was literally choking in guilt. “I have anger issues, and since then I’ve tried working on them.”
I expected anger, disgust, or hatred, but instead, Sarah’s expression was one of confusion.
“But you’re always calm and composed since I met you. I mean, I didn’t notice you had anger issues.”
I shut my eyes tight for a moment. Sarah wasn’t really helping; was she trying to alleviate my guilt? For years, I had blamed myself and hated that flaw of mine, and now here’s what she was saying. Even Nicole never spoke the opposite of what I truly was.
“Still, Xavier, you can’t blame yourself for the accident,” Sarah added softly as she stroked my arm. “Everyone gets angry at some point and…”
But I shook my head without letting her finish. “You don’t understand, Sarah. I caused the accident,” I said, pointing towards my past with my voice slightly trembling. “And so you know, the most painful thing was that I can’t even remember what got me so angry that day.”
Sarah went speechless and helpless, unable to say otherwise. After some time, she sighed and grabbed my arm, leading me to the veranda. “Maybe we should get some fresh air and talk about this real slow.”
We reached the veranda and settled on the couch. All the while, Sarah’s eyes filled with empathy. That’s because she didn’t know any better, and she wouldn’t understand what it felt like.
“Xavier, you’re punishing yourself for something that happened years ago,” she whispered. “You’ve worked on your anger issues, and you’re not that person anymore.”
I shook my head, feeling the weight of my guilt. “You don’t get it, Sarah. Even Nicole never forgave me,” I said, my voice cracking. “She blamed me for Damon’s death, and I couldn’t blame her. I blamed myself too.”
“Forget that woman; calling her name is starting to annoy me,” she spat, her voice laced with irritation. Probably because of the fact that Nicole thought the opposite.
“Xavier, Nicole’s anger and blame were a reflection of her own pain, not necessarily a measure of your worth or guilt.”
I sighed, feeling the old wounds resurface. “You shouldn’t have brought this up; I wasn’t ready to tell you.” I attempted to walk away, but she held me back, flashing me a look of disapproval.
“I might be just a nineteen-year-old, and I might be inexperienced, but I know this: taking out your emotions is the best thing… sometimes.”
I just stared back at her incredulously. “Really? I honestly don’t think it’s the best thing.”
“It is,” she countered and sat at the edge of the couch, her expression enthusiastic. “Now let’s do this: start talking, say everything you feel, and tell me the story that you’re so afraid of, and maybe, just maybe, it will alleviate the guilt.”
I highly doubt that, but she wouldn’t let me go until I gave it a try, so I slumped my back on the sofa as my mind drifted.