Page 89 of Downfall

“Yeah, well, as much as I’d love to stay in this love nest with you for the rest of the day, we better go make an appearance downstairs before my mom calls the authorities.”

We flew into California last night, rented a car, and drove to the little beach town where Skylar’s parents live. It’s the second time we’ve been here in the last five months. The first time was when Dave had his surgery. True to her word, Skylar used her inheritance to pay for it in full, and it was as successful as any transplant surgery could be. He was laid up for a while, but so far there have been no signs of rejection, and he’s been able to go back to work. Skylar’s mom was shocked to find out she was married, especially to me, of all people, but like with Ash, I don’t think Skylar ever told her mother the full extent of what happened between us. I don’t like knowing that she had to cover for me, but I’m thankful I get to have a clean slate with her mom. All she really remembers is that I’m Skylar’s friend from high school.

Her parents invited us here this weekend so we could go to the town’s annual fall festival where Skylar’s mom has a booth for her flower business. Palm trees and eighty degree weather don’t exactly scream autumn to me, but I guess it’s California’s version of it. We can go apple picking and play in the leaves when we get back home. I want to do all of it with Skylar—matching couples costumes’ for Halloween, picking out a tree for Christmas. We have years to make up for, and I don’t want to miss out on a second of it.

“Come on, lover boy,” Skylar teases. “Let’s scrub some of the sex off before we go down for breakfast.”

Skylar’s parents live in a little bungalow by the beach. It’s small, but they do have a guest room which they insist we stay in when we visit. Thankfully, there’s a bathroom attached to it so we don’t have to go far to shower. I promise to be a good boy in said shower, but the smell of her green apple shampoo makes me hard. I end up fucking her slowly from behind as she presses her hands against the tile before we get dressed and head downstairs.

Skylar’s mom greets us with a smile, her earlier irritation long forgotten. She has the same auburn hair, although hers is a tiny bit darker and her eyes are more turquoise than green. I think Skylar gets her eye color from her dad, but I haven’t asked. Her mom piles plates high with pancakes, bacon and fruit salad, and we sit down to eat. Her stepdad clears his throat, doing his best impression of a concerned father, and asks me about my plans for the future. Skylar rolls her eyes, but I tell him about the new business I started.

If someone had told me a year ago that I would be making and selling wine-related art and furniture, I would have laughed in their face. I’ve always loved working with my hands, and after I made that impromptu champagne ring for Skylar, it all sort of clicked. I realized there were other things I could make, like wine racks out of old barrels, coffee tables from corks. The irony is, I don’t even like wine. Well, that’s not totally true. I like the idea of it—the life it holds and the struggle that goes into making it. It takes actual blood, sweat, and tears to make a single bottle of wine, but then at the end there are all these casualties. Leftover materials. Why not make something beautiful out of them?

Skylar’s mom listens excitedly as I detail the projects I’m currently working on. She even told me I should have brought some items to sell at the fall festival. I promise her that I will do so next year. Because there will be a next year. Skylar and I are endgame. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.

“When do your mom and sister arrive?” Kat asks me, taking a sip of her chamomile tea. Aside from the fall festival, this weekend is also about our families finally coming together. Our moms have met before, but it’s been years and my mom has never met Skylar’s stepdad.

It took a little while, but my mom finally reached out a few weeks after Skylar’s birthday. She admitted to everything, and as I suspected, she was more ashamed than anything else, but she was also deeply apologetic. She explained that she was sick of the way my dad treated her, that she was willing to do anything to get him sent away. She didn’t realize he had mirrored her phone and was able to see all her text messages until it was too late.

I guess her plan worked in the end. My father was found guilty on charges of coercion and attempted murder. He was sentenced to fifteen to twenty years without the possibility of parole. Nicole ended up getting a plea deal for her testimony. She’ll still serve time, but not nearly as much as she would have, which is bullshit if you ask me. It sounds like my father was blackmailing her, but she still made the decision to get in that car and run Skylar into a tree. The civil suits from all the businesses he took advantage of have been put off because of his criminal trial, but eventually he will be held accountable for that too. Last I heard, Claire is running the company. I hope she does it honestly, but hope is all I can do. I want nothing to do with it anymore.

After everything, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to completely forgive my mother for putting Skylar in harm’s way, but we’re talking, working through our complicated relationship, and that’s what counts.

“I think their flight gets in at three,” I finally answer Kat, taking a sip of the coffee she made me. She and Dave don’t drink it, but they always make sure to have some on hand when we visit.

“I wish I could put them up here,” she says. “But living by the beach means sacrificing space here in good old sunny California.”

“It’s not a problem. They found a hotel only ten minutes from here. Thank you for having us all for dinner. I know they’re both excited to catch up with you.”

Skylar’s warm hand finds my thigh under the table. She’s always so in tune with me. She knows seeing my mom is still hard.

“I can’t wait to see Victoria again.” Kat gives me an easy smile. “It’s been far too long. And your sister? She must be all grown up now.”

“Oh, she is. Just graduated from college this summer.”

Skylar’s hand tightens on my thigh, and I swing my arm around to rub her back. Relief spreads over me like a warm blanket, and I realize that this dinner, our families meeting? I can handle it. With Skylar by my side, I can handle anything.

Skylar

Dinner goes better than either of us expected. Victoria and Amelia chat with my mom and Dave about everything from the best way to grow lilacs to Amelia’s medical school applications. She’s taking a little break after the crazy year she’s had, but she is starting to apply for next year. My mom asks if there’s anyone special in her life, and Declan grits his teeth as he nearly crushes the glass of water in his hand. We were both shocked when we discovered what Amelia had been keeping from us this past summer, but Declan is slowly coming to terms with it.

My stepbrother, Matt, tells us about the colleges he’s interested in and how he wants to be a software engineer. Everyone chats excitedly, sometimes talking over one another, and I watch as my mom beams the whole time. This is what she’s always wanted. Family dinners that are a little chaotic, but real, rather than the sterile reserved dinners the three of us would have if my dad even made it home in time. Most nights, she would leave him a plate warming in the oven.

My relationship with my dad has always been complicated. He pushed me to do things that were out of my comfort zone, but I never knew if it was because he wanted me to be stronger or because he wanted me to be more like him. I still don’t know. His words in that card I opened all those months ago haven’t left me.

If you’re reading this, I may not have gotten a chance to say it to your face, and I’m sorry for that.

I’m proud of you.

When I was growing up, I would have killed to hear those words from him, but he never said them. I strove for his attention, but not enough to change who I was in order to please him. He wanted a son, someone who would get a business degree and follow in his footsteps. I wasn’t so naïve that I didn’t realize that.

When I came back to live with him after college, something had changed. He was softer, a little more understanding. He gave me the locket, and we’d eat dinner together sometimes. Still, he didn’t say the words. Like a coward, he wrote them down in a letter I would only read after his death. It’s weird being angry at someone who is no longer here to defend himself.

I once thought you needed to have someone strong by your side in order to be successful, but I was wrong. You are strong enough on your own. I know that now, which is why I took the marriage clause out of your inheritance.

He did tie my worth to marriage at one point, but he changed his mind. Why? Was it because he saw that I could hold a job, rent a house, and live on my own without a man? Does that make it better? Would he ever have told me these things if he were still alive?

I don’t know if I’ll ever get the answers I’m looking for. What I do know is that I’m thankful that he worked hard and was able to leave me with the means to help my stepfather. I’m happy that he realized his mistake and changed his will in the end. I’m grateful for the time we spent together before he died, and that will have to be enough for now.