I didn’t take the most direct route to her parents’ house. I knew she was half dreading this, and I wanted to help her nerves settle out. I also just loved having her on the back of my bike. I’ve had plenty of dreams over the years, but that? It felt like the ultimate fantasy come true. A dream that I dreamed of when I was awake, but never fully, because even thinking of putting her back there felt too sacred.
When we got here, Esme’s mom answered the door and led us through a living room with sagging floral couches and dirty, worn carpet, to the kitchen in the back. She offered us tea, which we both declined, then went out to the garage to get Mason, Esme’s father.
As soon as her mom was gone, Esme leaned across the table and whisper-hissed to me about him knowing we werecoming. She’d texted and made sure to let them pick the time. She said it was just like her dad to power trip them all and make them wait on him until things went beyond uncomfortable.
We’ve been sitting here, staring at each other in these four wobbly chairs over a scarred tabletop, for a few minutes. The silence isn’t just tense, it’s so thick and toxic that it feels like it’s going to crawl down my throat and choke the life out of me.
No wonder Esme wanted to spend as little time in this house as she could growing up.
Mason shifts restlessly at the table. He takes up the chair in that obnoxious way that my brother would. The ex-jock, testosterone fueled, die hard macho masculine spread. Is he trying to take up so much space to make up for the fact that he’s so small on the inside?
Esme’s hands are clutched tightly in her lap. I’m so fucking proud of her for doing this. It sucks, but she’s going to get through it. She’s so much stronger than she knows. It took a fuck of a lot of courage to come here.
“I wanted to tell you that I’m coming back to Hart,” Esme starts. Her head snaps up and she gives her parents the respect of looking them in the face. “I’ll be here for a while. And… that- that I want to try and forgive you both.”
Mason’s dark brows shoot up. His massive torso flexes in his sweat stained, beer t-shirt. He rubs his meaty hands on his old jeans. Beads of sweat gather and glisten on his shiny bald head. “Forgive us? What the hell are you talking about, girl?”
This is a child in a man’s body. Scared, hurting, fucked up, I don’t know, but one thing is for sure: accountability is a foreign notion in his world. He doesn’t know how to stand up and be a father for his daughter.
I know that, but it doesn’t stop me from clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw aches.
Esme doesn’t let her dad scare her. Her eyes flick to her mom. “I don’t know what you both went through, but I think that you should have got a divorce years ago. You’re toxic together and you’re clearly unhappy. It made for a very hard childhood. I never felt loved or safe with you.” She blinks quickly, her voice growing small as she admits, “I wanted to. So badly.”
“Don’t talk to us about what we didn’t give you!” Mason thunders.
He stays in his chair though, which is the only thing that keeps me from leaping out of mine, wrapping my hand around his throat, and shoving him against the wall to choke the life out of him until he promises to be civil.
“I worked my ass off to make sure you had everything you ever wanted. Food on the table. Gifts at Christmas. So your mother could take you to the mall and buy you all the shit you wanted.”
“I know that, Dad. Iknow.” Esme’s breath shudders in and out of her. I want to reach for her hand, but our story isn’t mine to reveal. Not yet. “I do appreciate that we never went without. I was never hungry, and I had nice things.”
I understand some of what she feels. That deep yearning for a mother and a father. People who should loveyou and see you and want you unconditionally. People who arepresentin your life as more than just suggestions and figureheads. I’ve always wanted to be more than an extra in my parents’ lives. I didn’t need the world to revolve around me, but I wanted. I hoped. I ached. I yearned. I tried so hard before I realized that there wasn’t a single point in it. I raised my voice, and I whispered in turns, trying to get them to hear me out, but there was nothing but deaf ears and aching silence. It created a bone deep weariness and phantom pains of wishes that never reached fulfillment. I never had that fairytale childhood, and neither did Esme.
Her parents are like mine, in some ways. Willfully blind. Ignorant. They’re different people, but I see so much of my own mom and dad in their blank expressions.
“You’ve been gone for years, only ever texting, and now you’re going to show up and offerusforgiveness?” Beth snorts, but beneath her sharp exterior and prickling sarcasm is real hurt.
“I want to apologize for that,” Esme says, voice unwavering. “I— don’t know what I want to say. Except, that—that growing up was hard for me. I can see you’re both unhappy. I could see it then. I want to apologize for the silence and the pain that I’ve caused, and I forgive you both for the ways you hurt me, maybe without even knowing. Everyone has their demons. I get that people are all human, just doing the best that they can. I’m not here to judge you.”
“Fucking right you’re not,” Mason snaps.
Beth flinches across the table. Esme is confident enough in me being here with her that she doesn’t shy away from her father. She doesn’t have to fear to tread, because I’m here toensure that she can speak her truth and that every step she takes, is one that finds firm ground.
I shift in my chair. Not threateningly, but he reads it that way. Mason’s bloodshot eyes land on me. “You brought your muscle because you’re afraid of your own parents?”
“No. We’re… Wizard and I are together.”
“Wizard? What a stupid fucking name,” Mason sneers.
His hand comes down heavily on the table, a blow that glances off with a resounding smack that echoes through the silent room. I wonder how many times those blows found different targets. Esme said her dad never hit her or her mom, at least not when she was around, but Esme tried to be home as little as possible.
By the way Beth flinches, I’m not sure that she was so lucky in escaping that targeted rage.
“From one brother to the next, then. You’re just like your mother. A whore.
Esme’s whole face twists with pain. It’s not just fists that leave a mark. Words are the worst blows. They stay long after bones knit back together. “Dad,please. Don’t say things like that. Not about me, and not about Mom.”
I’m vibrating in this seat. I want nothing more than to pick up this man, this very small, disgusting excuse for a man. He oozes his own fears and pain, and while I can sympathize with that, there are better ways than finding relief in the bottom of a bottle, and in tearing others apart. I fucking get it,sortof, but calling his wife and his daughter whores is inexcusable.
