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That’s it, that’s all he says. My eyes fill with tears, and I know that nothing was a dream last night. I was a bitch, and he was hurt. But am I wrong? Fuck, I have no idea.
I spend the day laying on the couch feeling sorry for myself. I ignore phone calls and text messages and focus on mindless TV. The thought of going to my parents’ has me wanting to just climb into bed and sleep the rest of the day away. I don’t know why she wanted to do dinner on a Saturday anyway.
**
Pulling up to my parents’ makes me want to cry. As soon as I walk in the door, my mom will know something is wrong. I’m still in my sweats with my hair in a messy bun, I didn’t even bother to put makeup on. I couldn’t find the strength and now that I’m here, I wish I had. She’s going to be relentless, and I’m far from in the mood to handle it today.
“Hey, Mom,” I mumble as I make my way to the kitchen.
She is sitting at the table with wine already poured and nods for me to sit down. “We need to talk,” she says.
Yikes, what the fuck is this about.
I sit down and take a sip of my wine, knowing I’ll probably regret it later. “What?”
“I had a nice dinner planned. I was going to have you, Tenn, Brenda and Fred over. I’m tired of the men watching football, so I said fuck it, I’m doing it on a Saturday.” Why does it feel like I’m in trouble here? I didn’t do shit. “I got up early, after your father and I orally pleased each other,” she says.
“Mom, Christ, please just get to the point. I don’t want to hear that shit,” I mumble.
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “That’s your problem, Regan, you never want to listen to anyone else.”
I dip my brows, completely confused. “Mom, what the hell are you talking about?” I yell, getting pissed with her.
“How about you tell me what happened last night?” she says, raising an eyebrow.
I get up and walk into the kitchen, beyond pissed now. “So what, Tenn came running to you because we got into a fight, and you are automatically on his side? You don’t even give me a chance to explain shit from my point of view? You’re my mom, you should be on my side regardless,” I say, a bit too loudly.
“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” my dad says, walking over to me and kissing my cheek.
I take a deep breath and wrap my arms around myself. “Okay, fine. You want to know what happened, here it is. I got drunk. I accused Tenn of cheating on me, and I haven’t talked to him since. So either I’m totally fucking wrong or I hit the nail on the head. I knew coming here was a bad idea,” I say, going to walk out of the kitchen.
“Bring your ass back in here right now,” my mom yells, stopping me in my tracks.
I haven’t heard her raise her voice like that since I was in high school, and I know all too well not to fuck with her when she’s gotten to that point. Slowly I walk back to the table and stand there.
“I’m not looking for a fight, Mom. I’m hurting enough,” I whisper.
She gets up and wraps her hands around me, holding me tight against her. The tears I’ve been forcing back begin to flow, and I know there is no stopping them at this point.
“Baby girl, I’m always on your side. There is nothing more important to me than your happiness,” she whispers in my ear, brushing the hair off my neck.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Mom,” I say around a sob.
She pulls away and motions with her head. “Come with me.”
We go upstairs to her room and I cross my arms, standing in front of the bed. “Please don’t make this about sex, that’s not what this is about.”
“Everything is about sex, about feeling good, about being happy. Sit down,” she demands.
I wipe my eyes and sit down on the edge of her bed. Unfortunately, I know what happened here earlier, and that image makes me want to sit on the floor. However, I sit in silence as I watch her dig to the back of her closet. She walks out, holding a shoebox and sits next to me, running her hand across the top of it.
“What’s this?” I ask, tears slowly falling.
“Back before there were cell phones, we used to write letters. I know a crazy thought to you kids. Anyway, I’ve kept all the letters that your father and I wrote to each other, tucking them away in here,” she says, smiling.
“That’s really cool, Mom, I love that to be honest. Having all these love letters is something amazing.”
“Well, not all of the letters are sunshine and roses, baby girl. That’s the point of this. No relationship is perfect. There are going to be fights, misunderstandings, and lack of communication. There was a time when I didn’t trust your father at all. That I was sure he was out dipping his dick in any pussy that would allow it…”
