Shallow River

“The fuck did you just say?” I ask darkly. She heaves a weighted sigh. Her face is pinched with regret. Her blood-stained fingers fidget, her stare pinned to the twirling digits. She can’t even look at me.

Matt saved me. He’s my father. I love him. And that’s being ripped away from me right now.

“Ryan told me. I asked him why he turned out the way he did when he has everything in life. And Mako… I don’t think he was lying. It really didn’t feel like he was.”

I rub a shaking hand fiercely down my face, trying to rub away the words she’s spoken. My hand glides into his hair and grips tightly. My chest tightens painfully, making it hard to breathe. My vision swims and it takes everything in me to hold onto reality. I’m losing my shit. I’m losing a lot more than that.

“I’m really sorry, Mako,” she whispers. I nod my head distractedly, not really hearing her. It feels like water is rushing through my ears, drowning more softly spoken apologies that don’t mean shit right now. It’s not River’s fault, but I almost hate her for telling me. Now I have to live with this new reality.

My father is a fucking rapist.

He never laid a hand on me. Never gave any indication he felt that way towards me. A slew of memories flash through my mind. How much Ryan hated me. The world. How angry he was. And how anytime Dad would try to hug Ryan, or show any affection, Ryan rejected it like he was being stung by a nest of hornets. Little things that never made sense are adding up.

I close my eyes.

I guess I’m not as good at putting together puzzle pieces like I had thought. My brother was the biggest piece of all, right in my face. And I never suspected a thing. Guilt assuages me.

“Let’s focus on the matter at hand right now. I—I’ll worry about that later,” I rasp.

River bites her lip and nods her head, reluctantly agreeing.

“Ryan’s cheating on you,” I start.

Disdain crosses her face as she asks harshly, “You knew?”

I couldn’t keep the guilt off my face if I tried. Telling her Ryan’s cheating on her wasn’t said as a confession, but as the beginning of the story we’re going to spin, but she caught me before I could finish.

“You didn’t tell me?” she accuses, her eyes flaring with fury. Her cheeks flush strawberry red, and all I can manage is flapping my mouth like a fucking fish, at a loss of what to say.

“It wasn’t my place, River. I thought the hitting part was a little more concerning than Ryan being a player,” I defend.

“When?” she demands sharply. “How long ago did you find out?”

“I saw him cheating not too long after you met our parents,” I confess on a weighted sigh. This is not where I was trying to go with this, but I won’t lie to her, either. “But River… he’s always cheated, and I don’t mean with just you. He gave Alison chlamydia after a couple years together. I should’ve told you, but like I said, I was more concerned about your safety.”

She looks away, hurt radiating in her eyes. It bothers me that I caused that.

“So, why tell me now?” she asks, her tone having dropped several degrees and is now ice cold.

I scratch the back of my head, a sheepish look on my face. “I wasn’t, really. I was trying to get our story together, and Ryan being a cheater is going to play a big role in our cover up.”

This time when her cheeks turn red, it’s from embarrassment.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, River,” I start, feeling worse by the second that I didn’t tell her the truth about Ryan cheating from the beginning.

“That was what made me want to leave him,” she says abruptly, glancing at me sideways. “Just like every cliché, I found lipstick on his collar and it smelled like perfume. He had tried to wash it off. Realizing that he was fucking someone else is what finally made me want to leave.”

I’m not sure if she’s telling me this to make me feel worse, but it fucking works. My head thumps against the back of the couch and I sigh with defeat. If I would’ve told her sooner… maybe she wouldn’t have felt like she had to do what she did. She would already be gone, living her life away from him. But Ryan would still be here, already searching for his next victim.

“I’m sorry,” I repeat.

“So, this cover up story?” she prompts, swiftly changing the subject.

Reluctantly, I allow it. “He said he had a work-related trip next town over. That was the last you’ve seen of him.”

She nods her head once. “What happens when they figure out he didn’t?”