Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 183(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 122(@300wpm)
Except deep down, I know she doesn’t.
Amelie and I get out of the car and head into the house. I can faintly hear the water running in the bathroom and figure Aubrey’s taking a shower. After getting Amelie set up at the table to do her homework, I make my way down the hall and knock on the bathroom door.
“You okay?”
“Not really,” she says loud enough for me to hear.
“Can I come in?” I expect her to yell or bite my head off for being intrusive, but she says yes. Opening the door slowly, mostly out of fear she might throw something at me, I peek my head around the door and find her sitting against the tub, which is filling with water.
I step inside and sit opposite her. We know from experience this job is hard, and after a few weeks of it, the evidence is written all over Aubrey’s face.
“Wanna talk about it?”
She shakes her head slowly and wipes away tears from her dirt-stained face. “She was ten. The same age as our daughter. Gang raped and held until she went into labor. They dumped her in the village last night. We did everything we could.”
“I’m sorry, Aubrey.”
“She was just a baby,” Aubrey cries out. “She kept asking for her momma, but we didn’t know where she was from so no one could find her. I held her so she wouldn’t be alone and told her that where she’s going, no one would hurt her again.”
“The fetus?”
“Not viable. Her cavity was riddled with sexually transmitted infections and diseases. Neither of them stood a chance.”
“You can only do so much, Aubs. You know this. You’re there, you’re working and teaching these young women how to care for themselves.”
“And who teaches the men, huh? Who teaches them right from wrong? Who teaches them not to rape?” Her voice raises and I shake my head slightly, hoping she understands that Amelie can hear her.
“I don’t know,” I say quietly.
“She was Amelie’s age, Nick. Just a baby who needed her mother, and she wasn’t there for her.”
“Do you know her mom’s name?”
Aubrey shakes her head. “She didn’t say. Or she didn’t know.” She pulls her knees to her chest. “Does Amelie know our names?”
Her question gives me pause. I’ve never thought about whether Amelie knows our names or not. She’s rarely away from us, but Aubrey’s question has me thinking.
“I honestly don’t know but I’ll change that now.”
Aubrey stands and reaches for me. I let her even though it’ll break my heart. She wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my chest. I inhale deeply and then relax before pulling her closer and resting my chin on top of her head. I don’t know how long we stand there, just holding each other, but it’s enough for me to question whether we’re making the right decisions about our lives together.
7
The phone rings with Mack’s ringtone and his face fills my screen. I can’t help but smile at the photo of us, with him in his football uniform and me holding the trophy our team won when he was in junior high. I realize I should probably update it, but it’s one of my favorites of us. I press the accept button and wait for our video chat to connect.
“Hey, bud,” I say when I see him.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
Not well. Any and everything continues to circumvent me from leaving here and returning to Beaumont. “It’s good,” I lie. It’s probably the biggest lie of my life right now. Mack angles the phone differently and right away I can tell where he is and I’m both jealous and hurt. I should be there, with Noah, when he takes the field for his first ever Super Bowl. But I’m not. I’m still in Johannesburg.
“Oh, you know. Living someone’s dream.” My sarcasm is lost on Mack, and I know better than to dump my problems on him. “Are you having fun?”
“So much fun,” he says. “Noah brought me into the locker room and Peyton arranged for a tour of the entire stadium. Liam’s going to sing the national anthem.”
“Is he? Wow, that's pretty damn special.”
“Noah and I wish you were here.”
“You have no idea how much I want to be there, bud.”
“I get it,” he says. “Mom needs you.”
She does. At least that’s what she tells me. Ever since she had a young girl die on her, Aubrey hasn’t been the same. When I told her I had a flight back to the States, she panicked and asked for a few more days. Those days turned into weeks, and each time I bring it up, she tells me she’s not comfortable with me leaving yet. I can’t tell if it’s a ploy on her part or if this is her way of rebuilding our relationship. Most nights, she’s made it home either by dinner or in time to tuck Amelie in, and then she asks me to sit at the table with her while she eats. I don’t push her, but if she wants to reconcile and fix what’s broken, I’d like for her to say something.