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“Mom, it won’t be me.”
She eyes me over her glass, once again waiting for me to continue, so finally, I say, “No. I’ve already screwed it up.”
I gulp my wine down, hoping to dull the pain, and then I look over at her when she remains silent. She waits for me to meet her gaze before responding, “Nothing is certain, Bill. And everything is redeemable.”
“Maybe. But not easily recovered.”
“Nothing worth it is ever easy, but there’s always room for recovery.” She stares at me, the emotion in her eyes overflowing, and it almost makes me want to grab hold of her and ask what’s going on.
“Mom, I-”
“Wife!”
Snickering at my dad’s voice, I huff out, “No, he doesnotcall you that!”
She laughs as she says, “Where do you think you get your snarky humor from?” Then she calls over her shoulder, “Out here, honey!”
Chuckling, I drain my glass and grab for the bottle to refill both of ours. The mood will be lighter now that my dad has shown up, and I’m grateful it’s just us three tonight. I don’t have to uphold any kind of appearance, and he’s more at ease without Adam’s attitude bringing down the room.
“Hey, Dad,” I greet him as he joins us outside.
“Son.” He acknowledges me then bends to give mom a kiss, lingering for a moment longer than I want to see, but I still smile at their interaction. “What’s going on out here?”
“Nothing much. Dinner is just about done. We were waiting for you.”
I don’t miss the way he eyes our glasses as he goes and snags a beer from the outside fridge, then comes back to sit with us.
“I’ve noticed your hard work this week, Bill. Thank you for that.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, just sits back next to mom.
“Welcome,” I mutter.
“Any word from Chess? I saw Jackson was back in the papers.” Dad asks as he gives me a look because yes, Jackson was in the paper, and he knows I was with him. I was just lucky enough to not be caught on camera with him.
“Nothing,” Mom answers with a sigh, fully aware of how my sister feels about Jackson. “She sent a text that she was going to be locked in with meetings all week, but that was it.”
“Tom?”
“Nothing besides what I told you.”
“I hate that our kids are all over the country.” He says with a frown, taking a drink from his beer as he looks out over the yard.
Mom reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze. “I know, honey. But we do what we can for the ones who are home with us.”
Even dad is more concerned about those not here. And I get it; you worry about the ones you can’t physically see daily, but, Jesus. You got ones here that need you, too.
“Dinner ready?” I ask tiredly. “I’m kind of tired and would like to get home soon.”
Standing, I empty the last of the wine into my glass, ignoring the burning stare from my dad as I head inside, draining my glass as I go.
A moment later, I hear them enter the house, and Mom’s voice startles me as she asks, “Want me to put something together to go?”
I nod in response then pick up a book from the kitchen table. Turning the book over, it looks like one of those old school Fabio romance novels, and I huff out a laugh. I toss it back on the table, but the caption across the top draws my attention.‘Seeing him daily was hell, but knowing he doesn’t remember is worse. How could I be the one to save him if he couldn’t acknowledge our past?’
“Come on, Mom. What are you still reading these for?”
She comes to my side and takes the book from me. “Everyone needs a happy ending, Billy.”
Don’t I know it?
