TWENTY-NINE

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'Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed or hidden that will not be known.'

Whenever my mother used to quote that bible passage, I used to laugh. We all have secrets; even she does. I don't know what her secrets are, but I know she has some. How would God know about them if they're secrets, anyway? Sure, he is all-seeing, but he isn't a mind reader, right? She used to scold me for questioning the Lord like that, but even now, how would an entity know what goes on in at least seven billion people's minds all the time? You'd have to tell God your secrets for him to know or listen.

But as I look at the pathetic idiot sitting in his bed, I feel sick. Mainly because he's an idiot, but also because I know he knows. His icy eyes penetrate, accusing. It's like I'm being accused of witchcraft in Salem.

Then, I remember what I've done is in no way worse than him. He and Summer have been sneaking around for a year. I've only kissed Nick. He got her pregnant when he has a killer disease that's like a coin toss in terms of his children's life, and he didn't bother to wear a condom.

It takes two to tango, but when he got me pregnant, I had no idea what safe sex was; my parents refused me sex education. Joel didn't wear a condom, nor did he pull out.

I thought he would've learnt by now. Luckily, for me, after I gave birth, the doctor gave me information on contraception, and we've used condoms ever since – not that we have sex that much. Had – he's now my ex, right?

Did Joel not learn? Especially with his disease? How could he not...

It would've happened just about when he became sick, probably a day or two before he had the first seizure.

Just staring at him now is making me angry. It's defying all my reasonable logic not to unleash a tirade of anger at him.

"I... I wanted to talk to you about the divorce," he says eventually.

I sigh and sit on the chair. "What about it? I thought we'd agreed... I apply and you won't contest being adulterous. Quick and painless, right?"

He nods, but he's full of coldness. This isn't the Joel from a few days ago who agreed to stay best friends.

It's because he knows.

"I can apply tonight," I continue. I don't understand what his point is or why he wanted me here.

"The thing is... I won't contest it... but you've also been adulterous, right? So why is it just up to me?" he asks.

Ah, here we go. He's approaching the subject. As usual, though, he's awful with his words. Is that the disease, or is it just Joel, though?

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