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“I want to know why my dad did it. I want to know why he stayed with my mother when she was destroying his life.”
Bill briefly pauses while the refrigerator door stands open. He finally pulls out a pitcher of iced tea, plus a tub of artichoke dip, sets them on the table, and grabs two glasses and a bag of chips.
The old man sits and looks at me for several long seconds. “Are you sure you should bring up the past and dwell on it? It’s time you start looking forward instead of backward,” he finally says before pouring our tea and leaning back. “I’ve been told it’s no damn good to drive when you’re too busy staring in the rearview mirror.”
“I need to know why he did it. Did my mother hold something over him? Why else would he stay with her when she was so awful and despised him?”
“Even though your mother was a coldhearted bitch, she didn’t start out that way. She turned into one.” Bill looks into his glass of tea for a minute and reflects on things. “I think life shapes all of us into the person we become — you’re a victim of your circumstances to some degree. But you choose how you treat others,” he says with a sigh. “Your father certainly wasn’t a saint, Byron. It’s something I haven’t wanted to tell you, but he made several wrong turns himself. But is that important? I don’t see how any of this can help.”
“My father was beaten down, and she was the one who did it,” I insist. “Of course he wasn’t a saint. He allowed it. He should’ve fought her.”
“He’s the one who started it,” Bill says with a long sigh.
“Wait! What are you talking about? Start from the beginning, dammit.”
“Don’t use that tone on me, young man,” Bill warns.
“I’m sorry, Bill. But please, tell me the truth.”
“Your mom and dad met when they were young. She had high aspirations — she wanted a career, a family, and a lot of money. Nothing wrong with that. But then your father walked in the door. The man you knew wasn’t anything like the young man he used to be. He was full of life, full of confidence — a lot like Tyler, actually. He was good-looking and knew it, and he was the life of the party, with no chip on his shoulder like the ones you and Blake have carried for so long.”
“That’s not fair. I have reasons for this particular chip,” I say in self-defense.
“I’m not saying you don’t. I’m just saying your father was a cocky, fun-loving son of a bitch at one time, and he enjoyed the ladies — lots and lots of ladies.” Bill snorts in disgust.
I prod him. “But then he met my mother...”
“He met her at a party,” Bill says. “She was there with friends, a chance meeting, but your father was immediately attracted to her. When he wasn’t able to... um... bed her that first night, his fascination grew. He chased her. She knew about your father and his reputation. Girls talk, and she wanted nothing to do with him. That made your father go after her that much harder.”
“I honestly can’t picture my father as a ‘lady-killer.’ He was such a weak guy when I was a child.”
“You reap what you sow, boy.” Bill takes a big gulp of his tea before continuing. “It took him months, and by the time your mother agreed to go out with him, he was completely infatuated with her.”
“And?” I ask when Bill seems to be lost in an unhappy reverie.
“They dated for a few months, and she eventually fell head over heels in love. You see, at one time she did believe in love and romance and what a lot of people call happily-ever-afters. That ended about a year into their marriage,” Bill says with a grim shake of his head.
“Why?”
“Because as soon as your father had her toeing the line, he went back to his wild ways. Of course, he kept it hidden from her until after the wedding. He needed to have a beautiful wife to produce perfect children, but he didn’t want to give up his extracurricular activities. Almost as soon as they returned from the honeymoon, she found him with her best friend in her own bed.”
“Ouch. That had to hurt.” I say dryly, with zero sympathy for what my mother might’ve felt at the time.
“Yeah, it did, son. And your dad didn’t promise to never do it again. He said if she shut up and gave him the kids he wanted, he’d give her the lifestyle she wanted. She was already pregnant with Blake and knew leaving him would mean a life of poverty and hardship while she tried to raise the child. You see, your father assured her he’d disown the kid and leave her with nothing. She’d signed an airtight prenup.”
“How do you know all of this?” I ask.
“I’ve been around a long time, Byron,” Bill says.
“Go on.”
“After she had Blake, she changed. Her strength — if you want to call it that — increased, and she gave back to your father what he’d been giving to her. She slept with every guy she could find, and she grew colder. She pulled away from you and Blake. And...” Bill stops himself.
“What?” I demand.
“There’s more to it with Tyler, but I won’t share his secrets,” Bill says with another shake of his head.
“I need to know!”
