I exhale slowly. “Wow.” This is all a lot to take in. Especially given Timmy’s version of events—that this woman is his crazy, toxic ex who did nothing but drink and abuse him, slapping him around and calling him names, putting him down in front of her friends.
I don’t necessarily agree with everything she’s saying, but she seems… reasonable? And like a fairly normal person with good reason to be frustrated with his antics.
“He really needs to be in prison,” she says. “I think he’d be verypopular there… a good-looking guy with long hair. I think we all know what would happen to him. I would laugh…”
I’m disturbed by her comment, and don’t know how to respond.
Her friend speaks up. “Jennifer… that’s not nice,” she says, her tone scolding. “Nobody should want that for anyone, even Timmy.”
Jennifer shrugs. “He’d deserve it.”
We all sit there in silence for a moment. Probably all visualizing Timmy locked up in a prison cell, being tag-teamed by three cellmates. I feel numb.
“Yeah… oh, and by the way...” Jennifer smirks, savoring the moment. “He has a kid.”
I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”
She shrugs. “Yep. I only found out because I got the child support notice in the mail.”
The ground feels like it’s shifting beneath me. I think back to all the conversations we had about kids. He was adamant—he had none, they all belonged to his exes. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.
“He didn’t tell you, huh?” she says smugly, as if she’s relieved to know I’ve been deceived, too.
I can barely breathe. How could he hide something so huge? And worse—how am I supposed to ask him about this when he gets out? I can already picture the fight it will cause, the denials, the somehow turning it all back around onto me. My chest tightens at the thought of it.
But also, why am I thinking about talking to him about anything when he gets out? I’m so confused, my brain feels scrambled.
Jennifer leans back, as if satisfied with her revelations. “You’re not the first, you know. And you won’t be the last.”
I don’t know what to say. This entire conversation feels like I’ve stumbled into someone else’s nightmare.
“The worst part is,” she says. “There will always be another woman for him to suck in with his charm. And he’ll just keep repeating his cycle, time after time, until finally he goes to prison. Or… you know, he might just jump off some rocks and kill himself. That’s probably what he’ll do if you break up with him.”
Her words slosh around in my brain, heavy and dark, like the foamy water that smashes against the rocks at the bottom of a sharp cliff face.
As we wrap up, Jennifer hands me the keys again, a knowing look in her eyes. “Good luck with him,” she says. “You’re going to need it. My advice is to stay far away.”
I pocket the keys, feeling the weight of them press against my leg like an anchor. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
65
THEY SAY THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE... BUT WHAT IS THE TRUTH, ANYWAY?
The next day, my phone buzzes. It’s Jennifer, and she has some unexpected news about Timmy.
I stare at my phone, reading the text thread over and over again, my emotions in a tangled mess.
Jennifer:
Oh my god, I just got a voicemail from a phone number that said ‘Timmy in Jail.’
His message was all about how he needed me to bail him out. He even offered to give me back the truck and the chainsaw if I do.
Just seeing those words makes my heart race.
The part of me that knows how to survive tells me that everything Jennifer is saying is right—he’s dangerous, a menace, a walking grenade with the pin already pulled. But the other part, the one who felt cherished when he cradled me and kissed me like I was his entire world, aches to reach out to him. He needs me. I can’t just leave him there like that. My heart twists in conflict.
Jennifer: