You might as well start doing cartwheels and demonstrating the wave!”
“That’s not true! I have to see this through. For Aidan.”
“Aidan is dead. He’s in the ground. And now you’re going to go be a figurehead that Gray can point to when he needs to and go, ‘Look, I care about middle America and family values. Look at the pretty blonde woman with a dead kid.’” He brought his face up close to hers, and I imagined she could feel the spit from his words against her face. “You’re not going to be in charge of anything. I mean, you aren’t even a writer anymore. They tell you what you can and can’t say! And if you think you’re going to have any influence on what happens with your precious bill from here on out, you’re deluding yourself.”
Mom stepped back. “How can you be so cold?”
Dad opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stared at her. After the longest seconds of my life passed by, he finally spoke. “You’re the one who did this. You’re the one who’s making me leave. Just know that.” The door slammed behind him.
Mom collapsed in a heap on the floor. At the risk of getting in trouble for listening, I ran down the stairs and cried with her. At that moment, her tears turned off. She looked at me and told me we were going to get through it. And instead of crying for herself, she held me instead.
• • •
Dad being a jerk wasn’t exactly a revelation for either of us. This one time, Mom, Dad, and I were sitting in the kitchen. I had a spoonful of cheerios in my hand, and Mom was on her way out the door. Dad sat across from me. She leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. I smiled and assured her my homework would be done by the time she got back. She leaned over to give Dad a kiss too, but he moved out of the way. “Where are you going now?”
Her cheeks flushed, and the woman who stood so proud ten seconds earlier slouched over and her eyes met the floor. “It’s a fundraiser. I’m giving a speech at the Military Appreciation Night.”
Dad smiled menacingly, like he hoped what he was about to say would hurt more if he sucked her in with a smile first. “Well, I’m certainly glad that our son’s death has given you such a vast opportunity to make new friends and play dress-up. Oh, and of course to spend time with that Bo. Tell me, Claire, have you slept with him yet?”
Mom’s eyes welled up. My hand took on a life of its own and I threw a spoonful of cheerios at my dad, a stream of milk flailing wildly across the table. “Don’t talk to her like that! Stop it!”
Dad threw himself out of his chair and flew over to me, hovering over me with frozen eyes and a raised hand. I shut my own eyes tight and braced myself.
When nothing came, I opened them. He still hovered over me. “Go to your room. Now.” I slowly got up, glancing over at my mom. The color was gone from her cheeks and she stood silently. As I started walking upstairs, she followed.
She missed that fundraiser.
• • •
Months after the divorce, I saw something that I had never seen before—a man treating my mother with respect. I started walking into the kitchen one afternoon but turned right back around before they saw me. On my way to the fridge to grab some grape juice, I accidentally walked right into seeing my mom pull away from Bo’s kiss. I ducked around the corner and listened.
Nothing.
After a couple minutes, I peeked around the corner to see what the hold-up was. They were just staring at each other.
Finally Mom spoke. “You know, you’re wasting your time with me.”
Bo smiled, gently playing with a curl of my mom’s hair. “I’d waste my time with you any day.” He grabbed her hand and guided her to the kitchen table, where they both sat down.
Tears streamed down her face. I would never get used to the sight of my mother crying, no matter how many times I had seen it since my dad left. Seeing someone you love cry isn’t something you’re supposed to get used to
“That’s not true! I have to see this through. For Aidan.”
“Aidan is dead. He’s in the ground. And now you’re going to go be a figurehead that Gray can point to when he needs to and go, ‘Look, I care about middle America and family values. Look at the pretty blonde woman with a dead kid.’” He brought his face up close to hers, and I imagined she could feel the spit from his words against her face. “You’re not going to be in charge of anything. I mean, you aren’t even a writer anymore. They tell you what you can and can’t say! And if you think you’re going to have any influence on what happens with your precious bill from here on out, you’re deluding yourself.”
Mom stepped back. “How can you be so cold?”
Dad opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stared at her. After the longest seconds of my life passed by, he finally spoke. “You’re the one who did this. You’re the one who’s making me leave. Just know that.” The door slammed behind him.
Mom collapsed in a heap on the floor. At the risk of getting in trouble for listening, I ran down the stairs and cried with her. At that moment, her tears turned off. She looked at me and told me we were going to get through it. And instead of crying for herself, she held me instead.
• • •
Dad being a jerk wasn’t exactly a revelation for either of us. This one time, Mom, Dad, and I were sitting in the kitchen. I had a spoonful of cheerios in my hand, and Mom was on her way out the door. Dad sat across from me. She leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. I smiled and assured her my homework would be done by the time she got back. She leaned over to give Dad a kiss too, but he moved out of the way. “Where are you going now?”
Her cheeks flushed, and the woman who stood so proud ten seconds earlier slouched over and her eyes met the floor. “It’s a fundraiser. I’m giving a speech at the Military Appreciation Night.”
Dad smiled menacingly, like he hoped what he was about to say would hurt more if he sucked her in with a smile first. “Well, I’m certainly glad that our son’s death has given you such a vast opportunity to make new friends and play dress-up. Oh, and of course to spend time with that Bo. Tell me, Claire, have you slept with him yet?”
Mom’s eyes welled up. My hand took on a life of its own and I threw a spoonful of cheerios at my dad, a stream of milk flailing wildly across the table. “Don’t talk to her like that! Stop it!”
Dad threw himself out of his chair and flew over to me, hovering over me with frozen eyes and a raised hand. I shut my own eyes tight and braced myself.
When nothing came, I opened them. He still hovered over me. “Go to your room. Now.” I slowly got up, glancing over at my mom. The color was gone from her cheeks and she stood silently. As I started walking upstairs, she followed.
She missed that fundraiser.
• • •
Months after the divorce, I saw something that I had never seen before—a man treating my mother with respect. I started walking into the kitchen one afternoon but turned right back around before they saw me. On my way to the fridge to grab some grape juice, I accidentally walked right into seeing my mom pull away from Bo’s kiss. I ducked around the corner and listened.
Nothing.
After a couple minutes, I peeked around the corner to see what the hold-up was. They were just staring at each other.
Finally Mom spoke. “You know, you’re wasting your time with me.”
Bo smiled, gently playing with a curl of my mom’s hair. “I’d waste my time with you any day.” He grabbed her hand and guided her to the kitchen table, where they both sat down.
Tears streamed down her face. I would never get used to the sight of my mother crying, no matter how many times I had seen it since my dad left. Seeing someone you love cry isn’t something you’re supposed to get used to
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