Chapter 44
1485words
Alex stared at me quietly, waiting for me to continue. He was confused, I could tell from the from lines between his brows, but he didn't ask any questions or push me to go on. He just waited patiently and I appreciated it.
I was about to confess to him something that I'd never told anyone. If I did it under pressure, then I was either going to lie or not do it at all.
And I needed to do this.
For him and for me.
"My father left when I was eight. Or at least so I was told by my mom," I said, swallowing hard. My voice shook and something kept telling me to stop this madness, to turn away and walk upstairs, knowing that Alex wouldn't force me if I didn't really want to. I ignored it and continued. "At eight, you'd think I would remember him but I don't. I have not one single memory of him. The only person I remember when I was that young, was a man who was married to my mother for a long time."
Memories from the past assaulted me and instead of shutting them out, I let myself go. Allowing the same memories that I'd desperately fought out of my mind once upon a time, memories that I'd done all I could to detach myself from, to flow back into my mind and take the reins over my mouth.
"He moved in with us some months before the marriage. Mom was happy. He seemed really cool, I liked him so I was happy too." I brushed invisible lint off the couch, my vision going blurry. "I was so happy that I finally had a father figure, someone other than my mom who did nice things for me. I remember sometimes at school, my friends' dads would pick them up and I'd get so jealous that I didn't have a dad who would pick me up. I used to feel incomplete, like I was lacking something."
A warm, big hand covered mine and squeezed. If anything, the gesture worsened my situation. It broke the dam on the tears I was holding at bay and before I knew it, I was crying, fat drops of tears falling on my lap and making wet spots on the drawstrings.
"When Paul came, I didn't feel incomplete anymore," I told Alex, blinking rapidly to stem the tears. "He would take me to the park and I'd talk to these other kids who were also there with their parents and I—" I shook my head. "Sometimes, we'd all go to the movies. Me, him and my mom. Those were the best times, when we were together. I'd never seen my mom so happy." A small, bittersweet smile touched my lips as I remembered my mom's loud, carefree laughter and happy eyes. "He brought light and life into our home, kick-started my mom's spirit and made her the best version of herself I'd ever seen. I'd started to imagine Paul as a permanent fixture in our lives, Alex. I never thought he'd leave. Neither did I know he'd take all the light with him when he did."
There was movement beside me and before I knew it, Alex was rearranging us. He maneuvered until he was sitting behind me, leaning against the arm of the long couch, then he pulled me closer until my back was to his chest, his legs cradling mine on both sides.
His hand didn't leave mine and he didn't say anything. But he didn't have to. This was enough, and the warm feeling blooming inside my chest right in the middle of all the pain I felt, was a testament to that fact.
This was all so very new. Strange. But I could get used to it.
I could.
Encouraged, I continued, "I still remember that day like it happened just yesterday. I'd just come back from school. One of my friends dropped me off because mom had called beforehand to tell me that she wouldn't be able to pick me up." Memories—images—from that day flashed through my mind. The look on my mother's face when I'd entered the house, the dried tears, the bleakness in her eyes. "She'd sounded so fine, there was no way I could have known that there was something wrong, but when I saw her... My God, she was devastated. Broken." My throat felt tight, the words stuck. Alex squeezed my hand again, telling me wordlessly that he was there. "Apparently, Paul had a wife and two children. The same man who'd told my mom that he'd never been married and was glad he now had a child he could call his own. Me." Pain slashed through me, as sharp as it'd been that day, causing a fresh wave of tears to fall. "He lied to my mom, Alex. He lied to me. Without so much as blinking an eye. My mom got a divorce and as for Paul, he probably went back to his family or moved onto the next clueless single mother and child to deceive, but we don't know for sure."
Alex sucked in a sharp breath. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby."
The endearment gave me a tingly feeling and I squeezed his hand back, telling him that I appreciated him. That I was grateful.
I sighed, staring down at my palm in Alex's with teary eyes. "When Paul left, my mother was heartbroken. Me too, to be honest. I'd started to think of him as my dad and more than that, he was my friend. It was hard to accept that he was truly gone, and even harder to accept that he'd left us without a backward glance. Had we really been that unimportant to him? Had he not cared for us at all?" I gave voice to the questions that had plagued me for several sleepless nights, wondering if it had all been in my head. If I'd imagined the whole thing. With a shrug, I said, "I guess he didn't.
"My mom didn't date anyone after him. Well, until Cary." Cary, who had to have been the kindest man I'd ever met. "Cary was everything. He was patient with my mother, courting her when she said she didn't believe in love anymore, even when she seemed to be in love with another man. My God, he was so incredibly patient, he courted my mom for up to a year. Only for him to die in a car accident before they could even spend three together." My voice broke. "How unfair could life get?"
I'd cried with my mother that night. Not because Cary and I had been close—we'd never really clicked, not like Paul and I—but because he'd been a good man who hadn't deserved to die so young. I'd cried because my mother had lost yet another man she'd loved and probably the one she'd loved the most.
"When Cary died, my mom's soul did too." The words left my mouth in a monotonous tone, bitter in their truthfulness. "She lost interest in everything, she stopped talking much and it was a struggle getting up in the morning to go to work. Of course things got worse," I laughed humourlessly. "She resigned, started smoking and drinking. I was pissed at her for letting herself go and things got so awkward between us, we barely talked. She slipped further and further away from me until we became two strangers and I couldn't even get real mad at her because I knew it wasn't her fault."
I turned to face him, uncaring that I was crying. His face was contorted in pain, his eyes tortured as they tracked my tears. "The light died in her eyes, Alex. I watched it deteriorate slowly, chips falling away each day until it gave out completely." My lower lip trembled as more tears fell down my cheeks, unhindered. "I saw it. All of it. With my own eyes. Men did that to my mother. They destroyed her until only a soulless creature remained, existing and wishing from day to day for things she's never going to get back. Men did—"
"Shhhh," Alex whispered, wrapping his arms around me and rocking us from side-to-side.
I let my head fall back against his chest as I stared at the ceiling, allowing the tears roll down my cheeks silently. It should freak me out that I'd unloaded my baggage on Alex—that I'd finally told someone about my mother and had a complete meltdown while at it—but I felt strangely at ease. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and I felt ten times lighter.
Most of all, I was glad he now understood where my worries stemmed from. Why I was pushing him away—because that was what I was doing, whether I liked to admit it or not.
