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“Liam’s been doing all of the driving.”
“Sarah?” My body is tensing, already angry at what she’s about to say. I’m expecting an insult disguised as a warning towatch out for boys like him,so I’m taken off guard when she says, “I’m sorry.”
“You and Dad should have told me.”
“We did, when you were too little to understand, and we always planned to be more open with you about it, but then…”
“What?”
“Then it just seemed so much easier, and less confusing for you.”
“But you had to know at some point that I’d find out on my own.”
“This isn’t an excuse, and I don’t really expect you to understand, but sometimes it’s just easier to put troubling things out of your mind.” She pauses, then says, “It was me, Sarah. Your father wanted to make it very clear when you were twelve, thirteen…but I pushed back. ‘Next year, she’s not ready,’ I’d tell him, when it was me who wasn’t ready.”
“Why, though?”
She doesn’t answer and I don’t say anything to fill the void. I’m fighting a war with myself at the moment. Mad at her, but also reasonable enough to imagine that the child you’ve raised since day one meeting the woman who gave birth to her cannot be easy.
“Mom, I’m going to call you back later when we get on the road.”
“You’re still there…with her?”
“Grace and Owen just went out to get us all something to eat, but I’m thinking we’ll probably head out later on today.”
“Grace and Owen,” she repeats. Her voice sounds wrung out and spent when she says, “Wait…Your father is here and he wants to talk to you.”
Guilt washes over me again. Troubling things? Yes, I’d like to put the last conversation I had with my parents far, far out of my mind. “Hey, Dad.”
“Are you all right?”
“Dad, I’m fine. It’s actually been…good so far. Weird and uncomfortable, but good.”
“We really are sorry.” His voice sounds choked when he says, “We should have told you all along.”
And now I’m crying while trying to speak, but the tears fall like a watershed. Liam appears beside me with tissues, and he’s rubbing my back. It’s a full minute before I can clear my throat well enough to say, “Nothing changes, you know that, right? You’re my father and Mom is my mother. Always.”
“We love you, Bug.”
“I love you, too. I’m going to call you later when we get on the road, all right?”
My mother is back on the line now. “We’ll be up, so please call no matter what time it is.”
“I will, Mom.”
Turning to Liam after catching my breath, I say, “Nice bathrobe,” and we both start to laugh. Well, he laughs. What I’m doing is more like a combination of hiccupping and crying.
“I’d ask how you are, but…”
Taking another tissue from the box he’s set before me, I proceed to blow what seems like a gallon of liquid from my nose. “Gross.”
“Feels good though, doesn’t it?”
My head hurts, my skin feels so hot that I’m sure it’s a blotchy mess, and I’m so, so tired, but he’s right, I do feel better. “Big fan of the ugly cry?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had one, but it looks cathartic. I’m kinda jealous.”
“I needed that, but maybe I should jump back in the shower, or put ice on my face or something.”
