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I hurried over to her and grabbed her wrist before she could throw the dish. “Stop it, Mom, or you’ll have no dishes left.” I wrenched the bowl from her hand and carefully placed it back in the cabinet. I looked around at all the destruction. “You want to tell me what’s going on? And where’s Dad?”
At the mention of my father my mother’s face turned a mottled shade of red. “He left and he’d better never come back! I’ve had it, Skylar. He’s not welcome here anymore!”
I took both of her hands and walked her to the kitchen table, helping her sit down in the chair. Then I went to make her a cup of coffee, hoping it would help her settle down. Only one mug remained that my mother hadn’t smashed in her pique. This was probably the tenth set of dishes she had gone through in the past ten years. They were always the first casualties of her anger. I was pretty sure she liked the drama of smashing them.
I made her an instant coffee and put the steaming mug in front of her. I had to brush glass shards from the seat before sitting down beside her. “What did Dad do this time?
Mom lifted her coffee and took a sip. “Thank you, sweety,” she murmured. “You’re the only one I can count on in this shitty world.”
I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. “Mom, focus. What did Dad do?”
“Did you know he used to date Lisa Mackenzie?” Mom’s voice rose. “Lisa Mackenzie!”
“Who is Lisa Mackenzie?” I asked.
Mom’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “Lisa Mackenzie was the biggest slut in high school. And your father dated her. When we were first together! Can you believe that? And he never told me about it!” She was getting herself worked up again.
“Mom, that’s in the past, why would you care if he dated some girl when he was in high school—?”
“He cheated on me!” she shouted.
“Shh, Mom, no need to yell, I’m right here.” I patted her hand. “Okay, so he cheated on you. When you were teenagers. What does that have to do with your relationship now? You’ve been married for over thirty years. What he did when he was a kid hardly seems to matter,” I reasoned.
“He was talking to her just a few weeks ago. He ran into her in the grocery store. They were laughing and having a grand ol’ time. When I came over from picking out the ham for dinner, Lisa dared to hug him! Right in front of me!” She was shaking by this point.
“Mom, so what? What does that have to do with anything?”
“He kept it from me, Skylar! How can he keep something like that a secret? It makes him a goddamn liar!” She slammed her hands on the table, making her mug rattle.
Something about her words gave me pause.
“We’re done. I can’t forgive him for this,” she concluded, seeming to calm down slightly.
“You can’t forgive him for not telling you about some girl he used to go out with?” I asked slowly.
“Once trust is broken, that’s it, Skylar. I hope you learn something from all this. If a man keeps things from you, get rid of him. Don’t waste your time.”
“Even though you love Dad and he never meant to hurt you by not telling you?” Was I talking to my mom or myself?
Her reaction felt all too familiar. Perhaps I wasn’t as dramatic and over the top, but our stubborn refusal to see another side to things was entirely too similar.
“Love only gets you so far. And I’ve had it. I want you to put your dad’s clothes in trash bags and leave them on the porch. He can come and get them later.” Mom continued drinking her coffee as if we were talking about mundane things like the weather.
I sat there unmoving. Was I just like my mother? No. I wasn’t. I had gone to great length to distance myself from the walking tornado that was my mother and father. The reality was the way they went about their relationship had hugely impacted the way I went about mine. But our behaviors were equally destructive. My relationship with Mac was a case in point. I had turned the other way for months as he spent our money on camgirls. I hadn’t wanted the emotional display I was used to witnessing from my parents so I had gone in the opposite direction and had pretended everything was peachy.
When it blew up in my face I had been almost relieved that I could simply collect my things, take Morla, and get the hell out of there. There was no fraught exchange with smashed dishes and name-calling. I simply left.
But with Robert, things were more complicated. And it was in my dealings with him that I saw more of my mother and father than I cared to admit. I had been so quick to shut him down when the truth about his past came to light.
