Giving up their friendship was the only way she knew how to forget, and it became even easier to do when Leah took time away from the college to work on her art. Or at least, that’s what the gossip was, but Therese knew it was probably more because she had broken her heart. She didn’t say any of this to Leah because she knew that no matter what explanation she gave, no matter how she arranged the words, they would ultimately lead Leah to the conclusion that she had been betrayed. And as difficult as it was for Therese to admit, she was probably right.

Two and a half years had passed, and the two women, who had been closer than best friends—than sisters, even—had altogether stopped talking.

But then, Therese learned Barbara’s secret. And she had to tell Leah because she was the only one who would understand.

She passed through the archway into the kitchen and saw that drop cloths lined the floor and small containers of paint covered the counter tops. She felt overwhelmed, as though her name was being called from various corners of the room. When she looked around, she realized that every surface in Leah’s kitchen was painted a different color. There was no pattern, no symmetry, just random splashes of paint launched arbitrarily throughout the room.

They moved to the living room, where Therese noticed a pitcher of water and a few glasses on the coffee table. Leah had been expecting someone.

“Sit,” Therese said, taking a seat and leaning forward to pour them both some water.

Leah stood.

“Please.” Therese handed her the water, and Leah took it and sat at the other end of the couch.

Leah shook her head. “What do you want?”

“I had to see you, Leah. I’m sorry. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Leah breathed in heavily, and suddenly Therese wondered if she had made a mistake. If whatever had been between them was now irreparably broken.

“Okay,” Leah said, though she hesitated, and, in those few seconds, Therese almost began to cry.

She took a sip of water, and the coldness numbed her tongue. “I found out something today. Something I didn’t know. Something that will change your mind. About Tim.” At that moment, she realized how important it had suddenly become for Leah to understand, but Leah just stared back at her, emotionless.

“Well, not exactly about Tim. Really more about his father.”

No response.

“Turns out his father wasn’t a rapist after all.”

There. Now it was out. The words burning inside of her released into the air. Leah looked down at the table and traced the circle of condensation left behind by her glass.

“Did you hear me? He isn’t the son of a rapist.”

“Yes, I heard.”