Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
“What happened to Abel’s girlfriend and their son wasn’t your fault. Neither was your uncle’s death. Evil men with guns are to blame for that.”
Maybe Tuck’s feelings for me weren’t as big as his need for atonement. Maybe he’d decide his place wasn’t with me and my parents. But even so, even if he chose to go out into the world and fight for others, I wanted him to find a way to let go of the guilt he carried, because it killed me to see him hurting and trying with all his might to find forgiveness from those who weren’t alive to extend it. An impossible task. And too painful for any one person to bear.
He sighed. “They had no one to protect them, Emily. I’m talking about Cherie and Abel Jr. If Abel hadn’t died that day, he’d have been there to protect them.”
“If, Tuck. If. That’s a losing game and you know it. Everyone made choices that day, and the days preceding it. The what-if game isn’t going to bring anyone back. What if Abel had decided that staying home and taking care of his pregnant girlfriend was more important than committing a crime that might get him thrown in jail? Or killed? What if he’d decided to go out and get a job instead of robbing a store?”
“Stop, Em. He was desperate.”
“His desperation and his choices weren’t your fault. You didn’t owe him anything.”
“You’re being judgmental.”
“Sure, I am,” I said. “That’s what the what-if game is all about. You have to judge every choice made—fair or not, reasonable or not—if you’re going to play.”
He looked away and ran his hand through his hair.
“Aren’t you even a little bit mad at him, Tuck? Aren’t you angry that Abel put you in the position he did? Even despite being young and desperate. He asked you for a ride and didn’t tell you he was going to commit a crime. He set you up, Tuck, whether he thought about that or not.”
Something passed over his face, a discomfort that let me know I’d come somewhere close to the truth whether Tuck was willing to admit that yet or not. Or maybe his anger at Abel helped fuel his guilt. God, he was carrying so much. “What he did wasn’t right,” he said. “But I can only judge what I did that day. Only me.”
I got up on my knees and turned toward him. “Yes. But what you did then was influenced by so many things.” I reached out, and put my fingers on his jaw, turning his face my way, demanding that he look at me. He didn’t get to do this this time, retreat inside himself without letting me have a say. I was hurting here too. For him. For me. For the world and all the people suffering right now. And maybe this wasn’t the perfect time for this conversation, hiding in the back of an abandoned laundromat while outside the world burned. But I wanted Tuck to be whole so that he could let go of the shame he’d been stubbornly holding on to all these years. He believed the only way he could serve the world was to sacrifice his own happiness, and I could tell that the particular dead bodies he’d seen today had opened a wound in him and reconfirmed that. And if that inner narrative was going to be interrupted by outside rationale, my time to offer a voice of reason might very well be dwindling.
“I know you regret not being there for Abel in the way you now see he needed,” I said. “I get it.” I lowered my hand from his bearded jaw and lay it on his arm. “But so many choices were made, and they weren’t all yours. You’re carrying all of them, every single one, and no one’s shoulders are strong enough for that. You can’t bring them back. Even if you save a thousand lives or do a million good deeds, they’ll still be gone.”
His head fell back against the wall. “I know that, Em. But I finally have the chance to right some wrongs by putting my talents to use and doing something worthwhile, something necessary. Who would I be if I walked away from that?”
“No one’s asking you not to help where you can,” I said. Just do it closer to home. Do it without leaving me again.
The room had grown dim while we talked and now we were both in shadow. We’d need to sleep if we were going to wake up at dawn and begin journeying to my parents’ farm. Tuck sighed and gestured for me to come closer. I did, and he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me against him and kissing my temple. “I’m sorry,” he said. And though I wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying sorry for, it broke my heart anyway.