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Now—almost a year since the tragic day—Grant still comes over every Sunday to make sure the take-out boxes are picked up and the trash is taken out, that she’s taking care of herself and the house isn’t falling apart. And to kiss her on the cheek before he leaves and tell her he loves her.
And then, when I make it to the fourth stair down, I feel the blunt force of his heel between my shoulder blades and the searing burn as my breath leaves my lungs. I don’t tumble, grasping the railing or searching for my bearings, I fly and land on the concrete floor with a crack that sounds like breaking bones.
“When you want me to, you let me know,” he says. He could say this coldly, but he doesn’t. He could let the sting of rejection cause him to storm out, or give up on her, or lash out, or a variety of other very human reactions to her constant difficult behavior, but he never does. He goes to her, kisses the top of her head, and lets himself out.
“I’m not Georgia. He wanted to make sure my family couldn’t find me, no one I loved could trace me, so...” Cora closes her eyes and shakes her head, a compassionate and empathetic gesture, and then takes me in her arms and hugs me tight. “Oh, sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” She holds me for a long time and then says, “Nicola, I’ll be back soon.”
They act like they’re doing me a favor, reuniting us or something, when they open the door and he steps into the lobby. I want to cup my mouth with one hand and yell, You can keep him! I almost chuckle because it’s funny to me. Maybe funny because it’s so new. My desperate need to cling to him my entire adult life has not only dissolved but become hard and bitter. Exactly where I should have been long ago. It feels...invigorating.
Paige rushes to my side and puts her arms around me. I know they will separate us to ask questions, so I grip her hand tightly and look in her eyes. “I shot him. I had to.” She gives a slight nod of her head and squeezes my hand back. “You had to,” she agrees. “It’s over,” I say again and again, on my hands and knees in the muddy earth. “It’s over.”