Underestimated Too (44 page)

“Uh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

He was going to die anyway, right? I
only helped him. I knew there would be no autopsy, and if there was, I’d be
gone too. The man had cancer, he was sick, and was a very easy target. Had he
not been such an ass and let the doctors and nurses do their job, he may have
conquered the cancer. He got sicker and sicker because of me and because of an
episode of Law and Order. Ethylene glycol, poisoning. It’s a toxic, colorless,
odorless, almost nonvolatile liquid with a sweet taste, known to be lethal to humans.

It was easy to stir in a teaspoon into
his hot tea, here and there. It was easy to keep the contents of the antifreeze
hidden in a shampoo bottle. Thirty two ounces, Andrew. That’s what it took. I
should have felt bad, watching him vomit green bile. I never felt bad, not once
did I feel bad witnessing Michael convulse, vomit, and be so weak that, he
couldn’t hold his head up. I remember laughing hysterically the first time he
soiled his pants. The nurse made me leave, I was laughing so hard.

He’s never going to hurt you again,
Andrew. I am never going to hurt you again.

Oh, my god. Drew’s mom killed Michael. She killed
him and herself for Drew. What photos? What did that mean? I needed to see for
myself. I didn’t want Drew seeing something that was going to set us back
further than we already were. I had a pretty good hunch as to what it was, but
I needed to see. I’d destroy them myself

I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry for
the life I let you live, and I am sorry for not protecting you. Be happy son,
live life in love. You have more than enough money to walk away and enjoy it.
Don’t get consumed the way the Callaways did. There’s more to life than money,
and I am sorry for not finding this out before I sacrificed us both. Once you
have seen the horrific evidence of why you deserve everything you have, destroy
it, and never look back.

I love you, Andrew, don’t hurt for me.
I’m okay now.

Until we meet again…..

                                      
Mom.

You’re okay, Morgan. Get this over with, put it behind
you, and move on. I pep talked myself. Opening the box, I removed a pink, satin
hanky. It still had a lingering perfume smell.

I didn’t even gasp at the surprise. It was exactly
what I thought it was. Drew was so little, and I could see the hollow look that
his mother spoke of.

“Excuse me,” I spoke to a young boy, consoling a
crying girl. He had a cigarette between his lips. I knew he had matches. “Do
you have a light?”

“Keep it,” he said, tossing me a bright yellow
lighter, walking his crying girl away.

I flipped through the photos of Drew growing up,
abused. The first picture I set on fire above Michael’s grave, it was Drew bent
over the same desk that I’d been bent over many times. His small butt bore
bright red lines.

“This is for you, fuck face,” I audibly spoke,
dropping the burning photo to the grave. One by one, I watched the photos of a
lost little boy burn in flames, all the way through his teenage years. Drew
lied. Michael did way more than fondle an innocent boy; these were repulsive
pornographic pictures. Not one of the pictures showed Michael’s face, only
Drew’s. The pictures only displayed Michael from the waist down.

I was appalled and stopped looking, placing the
photos on my self-made fire. I couldn’t stand to look at one more thing my
husband endured from this man, horrific things that no child should know about.

Once the last photo was up in flames, I picked up
the envelope. This time I did gasp, unfolding the paper with the hospital
header. “Paternity Test,” I read out loud. What the hell was this? Did Drew
have another child somewhere too? Nicholas Andrew Kelley, I read. That’s when I
felt faint. The test results were inconclusive and would need to be retaken.

This didn’t make since. I saw those test. I saw that
Drew was 99.9% the father. Why would he have an inconclusive test locked up in a
bank? That was a dumb question. He didn’t want me to ever find it. Did Drew pay
for a bogus test? No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he? Yes, Drew would do that. I
knew he would. But would he do it knowing there was a fifty percent chance of
him raising another man’s child?

I was suddenly furious. This was the last straw and
I was getting to the bottom of it; the lies, every last one of them were coming
out. Oh, my god. What if Nicholas wasn’t Drew’s at all. What if he was
Dawson’s? We would never survive that. I was sure of it.

“Hey, you can’t have a fire here,” I heard a male
voice say. Looking at the smoldering photos turned to ash, I felt the tears run
down my cheek. Wiping it away and feeling the soreness from Drew’s hand, I
looked at my fingers, puzzled. I was crying blood? That didn’t make sense. I
stood to leave and that was the last thing I remembered.

***

I couldn’t see. Why couldn’t I see? Where was I? I
could hear voices. I could see a bright florescent light but something was
covering my eyes. Was I in a coma again? Nicholas? Oh my god, where was
Nicholas. Did he wreck with me. Wait. Was I in a wreck? What the hell was going
on? Why couldn’t I see? How long have I been out? Nicolas wouldn’t know who I
was after five weeks again. Who was talking? I had so many questions going
through my mind, questions that I wanted answers to. Where was Drew? Where the
hell was I? I wondered as I drifted back into darkness.

“Drew,” I croaked the next time I woke or tried to
wake. I still couldn’t see and had no idea how long I’d been out.

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere,” I
heard the music to my ears. Drew took my hand, comforting me with his warm
touch.

“What happened, Drew?”

“You’re okay now. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Where is Nicky?”

“He’s with Marta. He’s fine.”

“How long have I been here?” I wasn’t sure I wanted
to hear the answer. I couldn’t handle knowing that I was away from my son for
five weeks.

“Around twelve hours.”

Drew explained to me that I’d had a bleed in my
brain and had to be rushed into surgery. The doctor said that it had been
bleeding for a while and could have gotten worse due to a sudden jar, or even a
light bump. We both knew what the jar was, although neither of us would mention
it.

I spent three days in total darkness, afraid that
once the bandages came off I’d be blind. The doctor assured me that I wouldn’t,
but I was still scared. I couldn’t wait until that evening when he removed
them. I wanted to see Drew and my baby. Somebody had to bring me my baby.

I slept, resting in total darkness for I’m not sure
how long. I was woken up by familiar voices. Who was there? It was Drew, I knew
that much, but who was the female. Why was I having such a hard time waking up?
Deidra! It was Deidra. She was mad. What was she saying? I squinted my eyes as
much as possible, trying to concentrate on the conversation.

“She’s got a black eye,” Deidra observed. I knew she
was close to me. She was right beside me. I tried to turn my head when Drew
spoke.

“Yes, she has two black eyes. She just had brain
surgery,” Drew pointed out.

“Did you hit her, Drew?”

“No. I just told you. She had brain surgery. The
doctor said it was expected.”

“Hmm, I get that. I get this and this,” Deidra
stated. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “You know what I don’t get,
Drew? I don’t get this right here. You see this dirty yellow right here? That’s
an older bruise, healing. For Christ sake, Drew. You could have killed her.”

Drew? I needed to wake up. Why couldn’t I wake up?
Drew was crying. I could hear him sobbing. His face was buried beside me,
holding my hand. Drew, it’s going to be okay. Drew? I wasn’t talking, not out
loud anyway. Damn it. Wake up, Morgan.

I didn’t wake up, not until, well, I don’t know how
long. I didn’t remember anything else that Deidra said to Drew. The last thing
I remembered was Drew, crying.

The next time, I woke up—well, I didn’t really wake
up, but I could hear voices again. My mom was there with Jason and Justin, my
little brother was there too. Why can’t I wake up?

Dr. Tharp removed the bandages around seven that
evening. I was never so happy in my life when I saw the fuzzy Drew right beside
me, holding my hand. Dr. Tharp explained to Drew and me about the importance of
me resting—a lot. He was going to send me home with something the following day
that would cause me to sleep several hours a day. That explained why I couldn’t
wake up. I didn’t like that idea. I had a one-year-old to chase after.

“Your brain needs to rest, Morgan. I don’t want you
watching television, reading, or anything else that will cause you to overthink
things. Let’s give you the rest your brain needs, and we’ll see how things look
when I see you next week. Okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“I want to see Nicky,” I told Drew once we were
alone.

“You can see him when we go home tomorrow,” Drew
replied, sitting on the side of the bed and placing my hand in his. “We need to
talk, Morgan.”

“I know,” I agreed. He had to know that I knew about
the falsified paternity test.

“We need to stop.”

“Stop?” I questioned. Stop what?

“Yes, I want you to take Nicky and go to the beach
house.”

“Without you?”

“Yes, I’m never going to lay a finger on you again.
I promise.”

“What? You’re leaving me?”

“Don’t look at it that way, Morgan. I’m giving you
an easy out. You deserve better than what I’ve given you.”

“Drew, we’re not getting a divorce. I thought you
wanted to talk about you paying for a fake paternity test. Why did you do that?
How could you do that?” I asked, wanting off the topic that Drew was insisting
on rehashing.

“It was only temporary. I couldn’t stand the thought
of Nicolas belonging to Dawson. He doesn’t, Morgan. He’s one hundred percent
mine.”

“How do you know?”

“I did have the test done but not until Nicky was
four months old. I wanted to do it before but whenever the birthmark on his
butt cheek like mine went away, I was terrified. I couldn’t fathom him not
being mine. I love him so much.”

“I know you do, Drew.”

“Morgan, I love you that much too. That’s why I have
to let you go. I don’t want either of you to live with me. You deserve so much
more than I can give you.”

“Drew. Stop it. You’re not throwing away our family.
We’ll make it. I know we will.”

“Morgan, you have got to be the dumbest girl on
earth. I hurt you. I did things to purposely hurt you. I hit you because your
father hit my mother.”

“He’s not my father.”

 “I did horrible things to you because Michael did
them to me,” Drew continued. I didn’t understand what he was saying. He
wouldn’t let us walk out of his life like this. I knew he wouldn’t. Would he?

“I read the letter your mother left for you,” I
admitted, looking down.

Drew didn’t reply. He looked to his lap, holding my
hand and breathed a long breath.

“You never read it, did you?”

“No, not until I took it from your purse.” I didn’t
even remember placing it in my purse, well, vaguely, I did. I think it was
right after the caretaker told me I couldn’t have a fire.

“I went to the store. I found the photos,” I
confessed. 

Drew sort of smiled. “And so I underestimated you
again.”

“Drew?”

“Hmm?”

“I underestimated you too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I underestimated who you are and who you’ve
become.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’ve been through a lot and have come
out on top. Drew, you’re not a bad person. You’ve just been dealt a bad hand.
Please don’t do this.”

“Morgan. I almost killed you.”

“You did not. Dr. Tharp said I have had a bleed for
some time. You hitting me probably saved my life.”

“Morgan, you can’t keep making excuses for me. I hit
you. I hit you in front of our son. It’s never going to happen again. I promise
you. I’m never laying another finger on you again.”

Drew had said this at least 10 times over the past
couple years. This time was different. This time, I believed him. I didn’t like
the reason I believed him. He was going to leave me. That’s what he was trying
to tell me.

“Let’s talk to Deidra about it when we go to our
next session.”

“I’ve already talked to Deidra about it. She agrees
with me. She thinks we need to be apart. She doesn’t think I will ever be able
to not control you.”

“You will. You’re getting better. I can tell,” I
begged like a little girl afraid of losing the only thing that ever mattered to
me.

Drew stood, held my face between his hands, and
kissed me. “I hit you with a fucking brain injury, Morgan. Don’t you get it? I
hit you with a brain injury,” he repeated like he was realizing that for the
first time.