The Shadow House

We’ve been broken for such a long time. We don’t belong to each other anymore.

I didn’t think of myself as courageous. How was it brave to have watched my father belittle and control my mother for years, and then fail to recognize the very same pattern unfolding in my own life? No, if I’d had courage, I would’ve left much sooner. If I’d been brave, I would never have moved in with him in the first place, would never have forced my son to do the same. I’d never have given up my job, my friends—and I wouldn’t have stayed silent after the first night Stuart put his hand around my throat and held me against the wall. But I did all of those things because, somehow, they made sense. They felt more normal, more reasonable than any of the alternatives. Right up until they didn’t.

Ah, that’s a tale for another time.” I dug my paddle into the water and sped up. “So, what about you?” Kit cleared his throat. “Me?” “Yeah, you. I’ve showed you mine, now you show me yours.” “Ohhh.” Kit raised his eyebrows and gave me a dazzling smile. “Well, if that’s the game we’re playing…” But he didn’t say anything else, and I felt a prickle of irritation. Great listener, but terrible sharer, I thought. Red flag.

Shit. I was doing it again: projecting my neediness onto the first person who made me feel special. But I wasn’t special at all; this was just the way Kit treated everyone.

Isn’t it funny how two people can be raised in exactly the same way but turn out so different? Violet is a beast, but Amy is so shy, so sensitive. It’s all I can do to get her to say hello to anyone.

My gut reaction was to make my capability clear. I don’t need anyone, thanks, I’m doing just fine. But my need to prove I could do everything myself had got me into trouble before. Well-meaning colleagues, thoughtful friends; I’d pushed them away because sometimes the sting of vulnerability hurt more than the struggle itself.

but alone with her, he was different. Tender and thoughtful. He used to make her feel special. Now, he just made her feel queasy.

Closing my eyes, I tried to calm my thoughts but heard Stuart’s voice instead. Go on, run. Go ahead and try. I’ll find you.

The screen stuff is killing me. I didn't grown up with technology, I don't know it like he does. It's like he's this alien, speaking a language that I don't, growing up in a completely different universe and yet I'm supposed to guide him through it.

There was nothing better than a fresh start.

But things had changed shortly after he turned eleven. He clammed up, got angry, became shifty and secretive. And then suddenly it was like we were speaking entirely different languages. I'd say something and he'd look baffled. Then he'd reply, and it would be my turn to be confused. Being around him became like hosting a foreign exchange student, but without the pleasantries. Or an end date.