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“Wow… That’s really something,” she muses. “My mom wouldn’t be caught dead in the kitchen. If we had left it to her, we’d all have survived on burned pasta.” There’s a sheepish frown on Mia’s face, and her eyes are locked on the table we’re all seated at.
Mom clears her throat and says, “You already know I abide by honesty being a keystone in the foundation of any relationship, so I won’t pretend I haven’t heard of your mom. Do you know what made her the way she is?”
“She’s embarrassed by me and what I do… What I did.” Mia’s tone doesn’t give away how she feels on the subject. “And yes, thank you for being honest.” She looks at me with an expression I can’t quite place, making my dad chuckle.
Mom slaps Dad’s arm lovingly. “Did you know Coen lied to Mia?”
“No?” Dad questions, looking at me. All I can do is shrug, since I have no idea what Mom is going on about.
“Our son didn’t mention your involvement in getting Mia’s boss chained up in their basement.”
Scoffing, I look at my mom and say, “Omitting Dad in that was hardly a lie, if anything, I omitted parts of the truth. The part I didn’t know whether you wanted her to know, and it didn’t feel like my place to say.”
“Withholding parts of the truth counts as lying in my book,” Mom says. Then she turns to Mia and says, “My son means well, I hope you know that.”
That’s my mom for you. Honest to a fault, but even more loyal.
Nodding, Mia looks at me with understanding in her gaze, and I blow out a breath of relief. I know I should have handled it better, but I panicked.
“I don’t count that as a lie, Coen,” Mia says as I sit down next to her.
Well, thank fuck for that!
We’ve all plated generous spoonfuls of Mom’s casserole, each of us focused on eating rather than talking.
“I imagine you’re here tonight to discuss the fate of your newest pet?” Dad looks at Mia with concern laced across every feature.
I’m about to answer my dad, but Mia beats me to it. “Yes, we need help to get rid of Neil. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I’m so sorry for putting you out.” I’m so proud of my girl for being that frank, for taking ownership.
“No problem, dear,” Dad says as he smiles kindly at Mia. “Would tomorrow work? We have two cremations scheduled.”
Mia scrunches her nose in confusion. “Cremations?”
“Did Coen ever tell you about his biological dad?” Mom asks, breaking the palpable tension caused by Mia clearly not knowing everything, despite my claim to the contrary. When Mia nods, Mom carries on. “He was an abusive man—”
Growling, Dad interjects, “He wasn’t a man!”
“He was very abusive,” Mom continues as if the interruption never happened, though she takes Dad’s hand. “Although his need to control and dominate me started out as what I now know to be mental abuse, it quickly escalated to him laying his hands on me. When Coen was born, he was so jealous he stopped me from being able to breastfeed him, and when I passed out from pain, he would attack Coen.”
Sniffling, Mom reaches for a paper napkin in the silver holder in the middle of the table.
“Nina, please, you don’t have to tell me. I already know,” Mia insists.
Smiling through her tears, Mom answers, “I think I do, Mia. You see, I’m not blind to my son's faults, especially not the ones he’s made with you. Here, I’m partly to blame—”
Finding the ability to speak again, I half-shout, “Stop it!” I already know Dad will rebuke me for raising my voice to my mom, even if it wasn’t my intention. “Just stop it. You don’t have to talk about this,” I insist.
Mom looks at me with a sad smile on her lips. “Coen, out of the two of us, I think you’re more scared than I am. My wounds were mostly on my skin, whereas yours are in your heart. I don’t care how old you are or how much you think you know from your job—you’re still carrying around what happened, unable to let it go.”
Hearing my mom talk like that makes me feel like I’m that kid again. The one who had no choice but to listen to his mom get beaten within an inch of her life. The kid who couldn’t protect himself or make a difference. I wasn’t even brave enough to anger the sperm donor, so he’d punish me and leave my mom alone.
I’m so lost in my head that I don’t notice Mia moving until she scoots her chair closer to mine. Resting her head on my shoulder, she places one of her hands on my thigh and squeezes. I know it’s her way of telling me she’s here. Not just at my side, but with me through this. She’s my anchor in the storm.
“I won’t get into all the gory details, but my husband, Coen’s dad, is the one who taught my son how to keep a pet. He kept the—” A distasteful grimace clouds my mom’s features before she calls him what she’s always refused to say, “James kept the sperm donor alive so Coen might one day exact his revenge. We know all about the basement at the house, the pets my son stalks and brings home, and my husband is the one who gets rid of the bodies.”
“What?” Mia asks, squeezing my denim-clad thigh tighter.
Chuckling, my dad speaks up. “He didn’t tell you that, did he? I work at a morgue, so it’s always been easy. I knew early on that there was what some would call a darkness inside my son, but I know better. It’s a thirst for retribution, to make sure no one suffers as he did. And yes, I’ve helped him and will always help him.”
