Page 16 - It Ends with Us

ins ide. ”

He’s staring up at the sky, waiting on me to ans wer. My ey es follow
the line of hi s jaw, the cur ve of hi s cheek s, the outline of hi s lips. His
ey eb rows are drawn toget her in cont em plation. I don’t und ers tand
why, but he seems to need conv ers ation right no w. I thi nk about hi s
ques tion and try to find an ho nes t ans wer. When I come up with one,
I look away from hi m and back up to the sky.

“My father was abusive. Not to me—t o my mother. He would get so
ang ry when they fought tha t somet imes he would hi t her. When tha t
ha ppened , he would spend the nex t week or two making up for it. He
would do thi ng s like buy her flowers or take us out to a nice dinner.
Somet imes he would buy me stuff bec ause he knew I ha ted it when
they fought . When I was a kid, I found mysel f looking for ward to the
ni ght s they would fig ht . Bec ause I knew if he hi t her, the two week s

tha t followed would be grea t.” I pause. I’m no t sure I’ve ev er admitted
tha t to mysel f. “Of course if I could, I would ha ve made it to where he
nev er touched her. But the abuse was inev itable with thei r marri age,
and it bec ame our no rm. When I got older, I rea lized tha t no t doing
somet hi ng about it made me just as guilty. I spent most of my life
ha ting hi m for bei ng such a bad pers on, but I’m no t so sure I’m much

bet ter. Maybe we’re both bad peo ple. ”
R yle looks over at me with a tho ught ful ex pres sion. “Lily,” he says
point ed ly. “There is no such thi ng as bad people. We’re all just peo ple
who somet imes do bad thi ng s.”
I open my mouth to res pond , but hi s words strike me silent . We’re
al l just people who sometimes do bad thi ngs. I gues s tha t’s true in a way. No
one is ex clusivel y bad, no r is any one ex clusivel y good. Some are just

forced to work ha rder at suppres sing the bad.
“Your turn, ” I tel l hi m.
Based on hi s rea ction, I thi nk he might no t want to play hi s own
game. He sighs hea vily and runs a ha nd thro ugh hi s ha ir. He opens
hi s mouth to spea k, but then clamps it shu t again. He thi nk s for a bit,
and then fina lly spea ks. “I watched a little boy die toni ght .” His voice

is des pond ent . “He was onl y fiv e yea rs old. He and hi s little brother
found a gun in hi s parent s’ bed room. The young er brother was
ho lding it and it went off by accident .”
My stomach flips. I thi nk thi s may be a little too much truth for me.