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I fuckingamenough.
Dad doesn’t agree. He’s looking at me like he doesn’t even know me. Like he wishes I didn’t even exist. Like I no longer exist to him. “Don’t ever come back here. I never want to see you again.” His words are bitter, filled with venom, and he stalks out of the room without another word said between us.
I know we will never have another conversation.
I will never celebrate my birthday with him again.
There will be no more Thanksgivings or Christmases with him.
And while it will take me a long time to come to terms with this, I’m okay to never have those moments with him again. I want to save my precious moments for people who treat me likeI’mprecious.
I glance at Mom after Dad leaves us. She’s distressed and my anger has eased enough to put myself in her shoes. I don’t know why she did what she did all those years ago, and while I sure as hell don’t understand her marriage, I do know that no one besides the two people in a relationship know the intricacies of it. I won’t tolerate cheating in my relationship, but it’s not my place to judge her choices. And while I came here wanting to understand why her decision has changed my life irrevocably, I’m no longer interested to know anything about it. I don’t need to grasp why Dad’s done what he has because I’ve finally grasped that I’m so much better off without him in my life.
“Darling, your father is just—”
“No, don’t justify his behavior, Mom. You’ve spent my entire life doing that and I have to wonder if you’ve ever thought about all the justifications you’ve felt the need to keep making. I’m not a parent, but I don’t think children should have to put up with bad behavior being defended. When I do have children, I want them to know, without even having to think about it, that their father is a good man who does not need his actions explained away. A parent should strive to be an example of a good human being. Sure, some days will be a failure, but when the majority of days are like that, a parent should do better. Or just don’t fucking have children.”
“Do we really need that language, Kristen?”
No, no we don’t, but you know what? I’m so done with being told how tobein this world, that I’m not giving her this today. “I’m making no apologies today, Mom.”
She detests swearing but I think she’s realized I’m in no mood to hear about that, so she lets it go and moves back to defending her husband. “Your father is a very complex man. He’s tried to heal from what I did to him, but it’s been difficult. I hurt him, and you of all people should be able to understand that.”
“I should understand him because I was cheated on?”
“Yes.”
“I understand that he was hurt by your betrayal. I also understand how hard it is to move through those emotions. But do you know what I’m taking away from all of this?”
“What?”
“That there are just some things in life we will never understand. And there are things we just don’t need to know. I don’t need to know or understand Dad. And that’s the last I ever want to speak about this. I’m getting on with my life now and I hope you’ll be a part of it.”
She blinks and I think if I was to put my hand over her heart, it would be racing. Her life has been changed irrevocably too. “Of course I’ll be a part of your life.”
I know by the startled expression on her face and her high-pitched tone that she hasn’t fully comprehended how everything has now changed for our family. For the familyshebuilt.
I crave to know my mother more deeply. I would love to know who she was before the world told her who she had to be. I think I’d like that girl. I’ve seen glimpses of her fire over the years, but it never seems to last. I recall the time last year that she shared with me and Jenna about how Dad’s mom walked all over her for years. She’d told us she wouldn’t stand for anyone making us feel the way Grandma made her feel. And yet, here we are. She’s still making excuses for Dad walking all over us.
I collect my purse. “I’m living at Bradford’s now. You’re welcome to visit any time you want.”
Thank God Bradford told me he’d make time for me today. I need the kind of moment only he can provide to ease all the turbulent emotions this conversation has flared. I never imagined the day where my mother wasn’t fully in my life, and while I’ve struggled with her crowding my space,thiswasn’t what I wanted.
“Okay, darling,” she says, looking as bewildered as I feel. “I’ll come visit.”
When I step outside a few minutes later, the winter chill settles over me like a too-heavy blanket in much the same way Mom’s response to my devastation today is settling over me. I don’t know what I was looking for from her, but if my feelings are anything to go by, it wasn’t what she gave me.
I breathe fresh air in, pulling it all the way into my lungs so I can force out the toxic air my father put there. I wish my mother could give me more, but I’m not sure she ever will. That knowledge shreds its way through me, feeling like a thousand tiny paper cuts, reopening wounds that have never fully healed.
I remove my phone from my purse and send Bradford a text.
Me: Where are you?
I stand on the sidewalk outside my parent’s condo and stare at my phone waiting for his reply as those cuts keep on slicing. Tears gather behind my eyes and I blink madly, willing them not to fall.
My mother let me down.
When I needed her arms around me, needed her warmth, she left me out in the cold.
