I stare at her face, baffled. She might as well have just told me that my father was a hit man for the mafia, or a double agent for the KGB.
She holds out the bag that she’s been clutching to her chest. Her hands are shaking. I refuse to take it.
"That is not possible. If you knew my father, you’d understand that what you are saying to me right now is complete bullshit.” I spit the words out in a white-hot fury. “Do you understand the sacrifices he made to pay back a debt that wasn't even his?"
The look on her face is one of pure pity, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. Whatever she saw in that paperwork has her believing that he was paying back the debt because it really was his. All those years of stress, nearly losing our home and our store and worrying where our next meal would come from – she’s trying to claim that it was my father’s fault.
"I am really sorry, Blake,” she says again.
"If you're really sorry, then why would you try to destroy the man I look up to more than anyone in the world? The man who inspired everything I’ve ever done?” My voice has risen to a shout.
Her eyes shine with tears, but her gaze holds steady. "Because it's true. And because your uncle was part of it, and now he’s the CFO and he could do an enormous amount of harm to your company. Why do you think he’s so desperate to avoid going public? Because they’d be auditing the company and they’d want an accounting for every last dime spent. He’s probably still ripping you off, just being more careful about it.”
"So my uncle is a thief. Makes sense, doesn’t surprise me. That has nothing to do with my father.” I bite the words out viciously. There’s a warning in my tone. Shut up. Now. Take it back.
She doesn’t heed the warning.
“It’s all in the paperwork.” She tosses it onto the coffee table, a plastic wrapped landmine capable of tearing my world apart.
I refuse to touch it or look at it. "This is absolute horsecrap! You’re not a forensic accountant.”
She leans back, crossing her arms defensively. "I didn't say I was. When I showed it to Nestor–”
"You did what?” It’s a roar of rage that bounces off the rafters.
She flinches, the color draining from her face, but never drops her gaze. There’s so much pity there it makes me ill. "I had to. I didn't want to bring this to you without being sure."
"You gave our information to a journalist?”
“Are you even listening to yourself right now?” Her voice rises in volume. “I gave it to Clarita’s husband, not Clarita. And she is not a journalist. Clarita has a freaking neighborhood bulletin board. She blogs about neighborhood news and bargains. Nestor is a businessman – he knows how to read bank statements and spreadsheets. And I swore him to secrecy, and I’ve known the man for years. I’d trust him with my social security number and mother’s maiden name.”
“Clearly. Since you trusted him with mine,” I say nastily. I leap to my feet. Xena looks back and forth between Winona and me with big, alarmed eyes. “You just destroyed any chance of the company going public!” I grab the plastic bag from the table and hurl it to the floor. “The board meeting is in two fucking weeks!”
“Do not swear at me. Ever. I will not be spoken to like that.” She straightens up, her eyes snapping with anger. “I am not the one who defrauded your company. Whether or not you go public has nothing to do with me.”
I’m in a haze of pain and fury, worse than anything I’ve ever felt before. Worse than hearing that my parents were dead. At least when they died, I thought my father was an absolute hero. Winona might as well have just spit on his grave.
“Who the hell do you think you are to trash my family like that?” My throat is raw from the heat of my rage. “Our family isn’t a bunch of liars! Not everybody’s like you, Winona!”
She looks as if I just slapped her. “What are you talking about? We’re not liars.” Tears brim in her eyes, glittering like diamonds.
I should stop, but I’m so wretched, so heartsick, that I plow ahead with raging intensity. "You lie to your parents all the time. You hate Peach Pit, you hate everything about it, you never want to go back there! You’re letting them bully you into ruining your life and moving to a town that makes you miserable. And what about that fake business you started? What about buying those damn jars of peach jam every freaking month, even though it makes you sick? How is that not a lie?”
“Our peaches make you sick?" her mother’s anguished voice cries out from the doorway. Her father’s standing next to her, his jaw dropped in shock. Loretta is standing right behind them.
“You hate our town?” Loretta says in a petulant whine.
“You were the one buying all that product? Why?” Her father demands, looking mortally offended. “Was it some kind of charity thing?”
Oh fuck. Oh no. I was so caught up in the horror of what Winona just told me about my parents, I didn’t even hear the living room door open. This is bad. This is very very bad. My fight is with Winona, but I just dragged her family and her entire town into it.
Winona wheels around to face them, her eyes wide with panic.
“Mom! It’s not like it sounds!”
Her mother’s round face has gone a sickly shade of white. “It sounds as if you lied to us for years and made us into charity cases. And I certainly wouldn’t force you to live near us if you hate everything about us.”
“I didn’t say that! He did!” Winona’s words tumble out on top of each other, her voice thin and panicked. “No, wait – he didn’t say I hated everything about you! He said– I don’t– ”
Her mother slams the living room door with a resounding bang.
Winona wheels on me, furious. “You petty son of a bitch!”
I should apologize. Even though she’s got to be wrong about my father, I shouldn’t have lashed out at her like that.
But the old self-loathing swells up inside me. I’m the boy who killed his daddy. I don’t deserve nice things.
“Like that was a secret,” I sneer. I’m trading hurt for hurt.
I’d expect her to cry at this point, but she doesn’t. She just gives me a blank look that makes me sick and dizzy. As if I’m a stranger. As if we never loved each other.
I stand ramrod straight, returning her blank look. Never show weakness, even if you’re bleeding out; my father taught me that.
My father taught me that.
My father taught me everything. His words, his lessons, his beliefs…they have to mean something. They can’t all be based on lies.
She turns and stalks to the door without a single word. Then she glances back at me. “Be good to Xena, or I will find out, and I will come after you.” And she slams the door behind her. “Mom! Dad! Wait for me!” she calls, her voice lost and broken.
Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it, almost vomiting. I collapse on the couch and drag my phone out of my pocket. I stab the screen with a shaky hand, calling the one person in the world who can fix this. It’s a video call. I need to see her face.
When Alice answers, I spew out everything that Winona just told me, barely pausing for breath.