Page 102 of Ink & Desire

“Wait,” I say, panicked. “You know me, Avery. You know I don’t lie. Right?”

She nods.

“I don’t know if I’m ready or not,” I say. “I can’t guarantee I won’t screw up sometimes. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve only ever fought for one other person in my life, and she’s family. I don’t know if I’m doing thisright or not. But I know I want to try. If there was ever going to be a person to make me want to try, it’s you.”

I don’t know if what I’m saying is getting through to her or not. I can’t tell if she’s wavering or on the verge of walking out.

“Corbin, I want to believe you,” she whispers. “But that’s why I’m not sure I can trust it. I want it too much.”

I feel a deep ache in my chest, and I realize that I’m too late. I fucked up one too many times for her to forgive me. I need to tell her everything. I need her to understand why this is hard for me. Even if her knowing is the thing that drives her away. I take a deep breath.

“I was 5 years old the first time my dad put my mom in the hospital,” I say. I don’t look at Avery. I’m not sure I could keep going if I see the pity in her eyes. But I hear her soft intake of breath, and I know she’s listening.

“Henley wasn’t born yet. When Mom got out of the hospital, he talked her into letting him come back home. Three months later, he broke her nose because she burnt some toast at breakfast. But she was pregnant with Hen, and she knew she couldn’t take care of us without his paycheck. So, she stayed. It got better while she was pregnant. Then worse again. Then he left us for good when I was 7. Mom cried for a week.” I feel a hand slip into mine, squeezing lightly. I swallow back the lump in my throat.

“I was 9 the first time she tried to kill herself. I came home from school, and I could hear Henley crying, but all the lights in the house were off.”

I feel myself being transported back to that day; back to that scared little boy walking through a dark, dirty house, unsure what I’d find.

“I thought maybe she left us, like he did. Part of me hoped she did, but then I felt bad for thinking that. I found Henley locked in her room. She was hungry and scared, but she stopped crying when she saw me. She was old enough to be potty trained, but no one was there to take her to the bathroom, so she’d wet herself. I got her cleaned up while she sucked her thumb and hiccupped, just staring up at me with trusting eyes. Like I knew what to do to fix everything. I found some bread in the kitchen and put some peanut butter on it. I left her there and went to look for my mom.”

“Corbin,” Avery whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head and drag myself back from that dark place in my mind.

“She’d get better for a while. Then she’d go back to the drugs and drinking. It was easier when Henley started school. I knew she’d be okay there. I knew she’d get fed. She wouldn’t be in that house all day. I wouldn’t have to worry about her seeing something she shouldn’t. I kept the worst of it from her. At least, I tried to.” I sigh, running a hand over my face. “I counted down the days until I turned 18. I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. I took Henley with me when I went. She was only 12. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a teenaged girl. But I knew I’d do a better job than she did. She didn’t fight me on it, either. That’s the part that used to piss meoff. How does a mother not care about someone taking their kid? It took me a long time to realize that was her being a good mom. Her version, anyway.”

“She knew you’d take care of her,” Avery says.

I nod. “Yeah. I tried to, anyway.”

“You did an amazing job raising her,” she whispers.

“She did the work,” I say. “I just made sure she was safe.”

I feel her hand on my forearm. “Corbin, look at me.”

I hesitate for a second before turning to look at Avery for the first time since I started telling her my story.

“You let her be a kid,” she says. “You had to grow up before any child should have to. But you made sure she didn’t. And you made sure she knew she was safe and loved when no one else could. That’s bigger than you think. It’s amazing.You’reamazing.”

The ball of emotion in my chest is rising up, threatening to choke me with all the memories I’ve shoved down over the past three decades. I don’t know how to make her understand that I’m not what she thinks. I’m not some hero.

“Last night I got a call that she'd been arrested," I say. "Again. She wanted me to bail her out, but I just left her there." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I left my own mother in jail."

"Maybe that's what she needs right now," Avery says.

"Don’t you get it?” I ask, my voice rising. I need her to understand. “That’swhere I came from! When I say I don’t know what I’m doing, that’s what I mean. I’ve neverknown what it’s like to have a happy family. I don’t know what that looks like. I don't know how to be what you deserve. I can’t remember a single time as a kid when I wasn’t waiting for someone to get angry and throw something or hit someone. I don’t knowhow to do this!”

Instead of cowering back from my anger, Avery steps closer to me. “None of us knows what we’re doing," she says. "But we’re supposed to figure it out together, Corbin. Not push each other away when things get hard."

Shame washes over me and I know she’s right. It’s just another example of how badly I’ve screwed things up with her.

“I want to try,” I whisper around the lump in my throat. “Can we try again?”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and I’m convinced she’s going to tell me to leave. I’ve put this woman through hell over the last couple of days. She deserves so much more. But when she finally speaks, she surprises me.

“I need to know something,” she says in a low voice.