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I try to blame it on the fact that seeing this powerful man hugging my children affected me deeply. That might have contributed because, until now, even though I’d never admit it out loud, I really did see him as a "god." Seeing him with my kids made him human in my eyes. Someone real.
But the biggest reason I want him here is that I’m terrified. Dr. Athanasios seems like the kind of person who can face anything life throws at him. I used to feel that way about myself too, but that night changed me forever.
A thin line of sweat trickles down my back as I watch the three men—Zeus, the police investigator, and the lawyer my brother-in-law hired—settle into chairs they’ve brought closer to the hospital bed.
Athanasios, unlike the others, remains standing, almost by my side.
Feeling fear is something I despise.
Madison and I, having spent most of our childhood alone, learned to defend ourselves against the world—including some neighbors who tried to get too friendly because they knew my sister and I were without adult supervision.
We always managed to scare them off and grew up with the certainty that we could handle anything. But today, the thought of revisiting my nightmare makes me want to cry, and I hate feeling weak.
"You don’t need to stay," my brother-in-law tells Athanasios.
"Brooklyn wants me here."
I look from one to the other, confused by the cold tone they’re using. Madison told me the doctor is a friend of the Kostanidis family—her husband’s family—so what’s the problem?
"Why?" Madison’s husband now directs his question at me.
I’d rather cut off an arm than admit in front of the detective and lawyer that I’m so scared it’s making me feel physically ill. "I want him to stay," I say, not looking at Zeus but at the doctor. At this moment, he is my ally. He’s the one to whom I’ve confessed my weakness.
"Shall we begin, Miss Foster?" the detective asks.
"Yes, we can."
"One moment," the lawyer interrupts. "Miss Foster, if there’s any question you’re unsure about answering, consult me first."
"I have nothing to hide, sir."
"Understood," the lawyer says, unfazed. "In that case, let’s begin your statement."
For the first twenty minutes, the detective asks me to detail how I met Moses and how long after that we moved in together.
I’m not embarrassed to admit I only moved into his house because I got pregnant. I explained that I wanted to provide a complete family for my children, since I grew up with just one parent—and even that parent was absent.
What almost broke my pride, though, I don’t confess: that just a couple of months after moving in with him, I felt like a needy fool for falling for the first jerk who showed interest in me beyond my body.
I was a naïve virgin. I thought I was in love, but looking back, I realize it was mostly hormones making me believe there were feelings where there was only physical attraction.
No, I can’t blame it all on hormones. There was also the fact that I wanted to rewrite my story. To show the world that, no matter how little I grew up with, I could do better for my children.
I force myself to focus on the questions the detective is asking. Now the man wants to know if I knew any of my ex-partner’s relatives.
I tell him Moses claimed to have no immediate family, saying he was an orphan. I also revealed that Moses assured me his extended family was small, with only a few distant aunts.
The man looks at me with disbelief, maybe even a little condescension. I don’t understand why.
"Excuse me, but are the questions one-sided, or can I ask you something?" I ask.
"You can, of course."
"No offense, but why did you look at me as if I were naïve when I told you the father of my children had no living relatives?"
"Because you couldn’t have been able to know for sure."
"I don’t understand."