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Twenty Eight
In the end,it’s Maddison who cements my decision to tell my family about Olive. That along with the copious amount of guilt that is bearing down on my chest every time I get a text or phone call from my mother.
It’s not her fault that my brother ripped our family apart, and my father tore the last thread that was holding together whatever we used to be. My mother isn’t the villain in our story.
Yesterday, I called her and asked if I could come over today, that I had something extremely important to discuss with her. Single-handedly the most important thing in my life, but she doesn’t know that yet.
Putting my truck in park in the driveway, my hands clench around the wheel as my gaze swings to Maddison. She reaches out her hand for me, offering me comfort. “If you’re not ready, then we can do it another day,” she says quietly.
I shake my head.
No, it’s time. It’s been time, but my own reservations stopped me from doing the right thing.
That’s not who I am. Not anymore.
“I need to do this. Not just for them, but for myself.Andfor Olive.”
She nods, squeezing my hand lightly. “Okay, whatever you think. I support you.”
After getting Olive out of the car, I swing her diaper bag onto my shoulder and clutch her seat in my hand so hard my knuckles turn white.
“It’s going to be okay, Briggs,” Maddison whispers next to me, squeezing my hand again before reaching out to ring the doorbell.
Then… we wait.
This house is full of memories. I spent my childhood here, on this very porch, racing trucks down the stairs, across the rail of the wraparound porch. Just to the right of the porch, the massive oak tree that’s older than all of us combined is where I broke my arm for the first time. The pond behind the house is where I picked up a stick and skated for the first time.
I fell in love with hockey here.
It’s my childhood home, and now those memories are tainted with my brother’s betrayal.
The door swings open, and my mother stands on the other side. Her graying blonde hair is pulled back in her signature bun, and she’s wearing a simple blouse with jeans. She’s barefoot, as always, and it reminds me of the old days, when things were easier.
“Briggs, what-" She pauses then, her eyes dropping to the infant carrier in my hand. Her gaze darts back to me, then to Maddison.
“Hi Mom. This is Maddison…and Olive, my daughter.”
Mom lets out a strangled sob. Her hand flies to her mouth to cover the sound, as fresh tears well in her eyes.
“What do you mean, your daughter...Briggs?”
“Is it okay if we come in, Mom?”
She nods. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m just in shock. Please come in.”
I didn’t mean to drop a bomb on her at the door, but I couldn’t just bring a baby into her home without an explanation.
I realize once I step over the threshold, that it’s been years since I’ve been inside my parents’ house. Of course, I knew how long it had been, but I didn’t let it actually penetrate the wall around my heart for so long that I didn’t feel the full effect of it until now.
Years since I’ve seen my father, or been inside the home I grew up in.
I didn’t expect to feel… regret. But I do.
Following behind Mom, she leads us into the den that looks exactly like it did three years ago. The same worn, leather recliner sits in the corner with the same worn and soft spot where my Dad always sits still present.
Except right now, it’s empty. And that means he probably left because I was coming.
That’s okay. I didn’t come here to try and repair anything with my father. I’m here for my mom alone.
