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“I just found out Mary abused Theo.” I’m surprised by the steadiness of my voice. “All his life.”
Only silence greets me. Then, “I’ll kill her.” I believe him. That’s why I have to speak fast.
“No, you won’t. And that’s why I’m calling. There’s no way I’m keeping this from Ma, and no one can hurt that bitch, because the only thing special about her is that she’s my ex-wife, I’m the first person they’d investigate if something happens to her. I’ll tell Ma tomorrow when we’re all calmer and together, then you’ll come get her and tell her you’ll take care of it,even though you won’t. Not right now. We’ll figure out what to do with her eventually, but you have to lie to her. Got it?”
“Fuck!” he screams, and I hear something crash in the background. “Fine.” He hangs up.
I lower the phone and toss it on the desk, then bury my face in Tristan’s chest and focus only on breathing. It works for about a second, then I have to stand, to move, to do something to let all this out.
I see it then, the shiny piece of glass that says I’m the man of the decade according to various New York real estate associations. Behind my desk, right at eye level on the bookcase full of my accomplishments.
Next thing I know, the trophy mocking me is flying out of my hand and crashing against the wall. I scream then, and while I scream, I take every single item saying I’m a good man and throw it away, because I’m not.
I’m about to grab another glass trophy, this one saying I’m New York’s most philanthropic person. The mayor gave it to me a few years ago.
Tears blur my vision but I reach for it anyway. Tristan stops me. He hugs me from behind and traps my arms to my sides.
“It’s enough now, it’s enough,” he murmurs, and I hear him through the rage.
I fall to my knees and Tris follows me down.
It’s not enough, it’ll never be enough.
* * *
After drinkingtwo glasses of water and doing all I can to put myself together, I step into my children’s living room.
They’re watching the late slot games on mute, and I realize I forgot about the Kings game we just came from, it’s like that happened longer ago… another day, another month really, not a few hours ago. I shake my head, I won’t even attempt to focus on it now.
I squeeze Tristan’s hand to remind myself he hasn’t bolted. He’s still here, supporting me after I lost my fucking mind, after the call. He’s been here, and God, I hope he will be tomorrow, too.
They don’t seem to have heard the elevator come up, so I watch them for a while. How Mike plays with Theo’s hair while he talks about the games with Iris. How Iris smiles at both of them before she turns back to look at the screen intently.
They seem to be doing okay, though I can’t see Theo’s face from here, his shoulders are relaxed, he’s not tense anymore. I should’ve been making sure they were okay, I shouldn’t have lost it.
“Dad,” Iris says, making Theo and Mike turn and see us standing by the elevator.
“Hey,” I say, and standing taller, I walk to them and sit on the opposite side of the couch with Tris. “How are you feeling?” I ask Theo.
“I’m okay,” he says but his eyes are still swollen from the tears, like I suspect mine are.
“Theo,” I whisper. “Please just tell me the truth,” I beg and I’m not even talking about Mary. I’m talking about right now.
“I—” he cuts off and looks at Mike, who nods at him and pulls him closer to his chest. I squeeze Tristan’s hand involuntarily. “I’m pretty scared, honestly,” he says when he looks back at me.
“What are you scared of?”
“That you’ll be mad at me? That you’ll do something drastic to Mary, or that you won’t ever forgive me for not telling you what was happening back then?” he lists off with a bit of an attitude, so I know he’s feeling better.
I can’t hold back the small smile it brings out in me.
“You should only be worried about one of those,” I tell him and lean back on the couch, feeling more in control.
This is Theo, my Theo. The boy who came into my arms seconds after his first breath. I know him and he knows me. Just three days ago I thought of how he was way too young when he learned that ignorance is bliss, this is only more proof of that.
“I’m not mad at you, I’ve never been mad at you when it comes to these things and since you didn’t do anything wrong, there’s nothing to forgive. I only wonder how long it’ll take you to forgive me, or me to forgive myself.” A tear slips out and I don’t try to disguise it.
“What?” he asks. “Dad you did—”
