Page 103 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

“One day, Dad found out that Mom was having an affair,” I shared.

Her mouth dropped open.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “So you can imagine how that went over with my dad. He was rightfully pissed.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Dad started drinking.” I went on with the story. “To hide his head in the sand and not think about what her affair meant for their relationship.”

“Okay,” she acknowledged. “What happened?”

“My sister, Noel, happened,” I answered. “In her attempt to fix what she’d broken, she all but threw herself at my dad to fix it. Dad and Mom had a toxic relationship after that. Mom would try to make up for her affair. Dad would drink. Mom would sleep with him. Dad would get pissed the next morning when he realized what he’d done when he was drunk.” I shook my head. “It was a vicious cycle, and eventually, Dad started to get really fucking pissed that she was taking advantage of him in that state. One day, he started hitting her, and it just never stopped.”

Her mouth fell open.

“Mom got pregnant with Noel, then Ginger, and finally Christopher,” I explained. “Over the years, Mom would be pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or sleeping around having affairs behind my dad’s back. Then she’d come home, Dad would take his anger out on her with his fists, and the cycle would continue.”

“That’s…messed up,” she said.

“It was,” I confirmed. “Until one day my mom finally saw what she was doing to her kids. One, by having multiple affairs. And two, by staying with a man that enjoyed beating the shit out of her to take his anger and frustration out in an attempt to rid himself of the grief of having a wife like my mom.”

“Did you witness these actions?” I asked.

“I’m two years older than Noel. I witnessed it all and understood it,” I said. “I knew that my dad was beating my mom. I knew my mom was cheating on my dad. I knew that our life was a circus show that kept getting worse and worse until finally my mom admitted that she was fucking us up.”

“What happened when she realized?” Merriam asked.

“She was killed,” I replied. “By my father. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t.”

“What happened?” she gasped, shock evident in her voice.

“My dad killed her. Shot her. Then himself.” I felt the usual nausea sweep through me at the reminder.

“So you and your siblings had to experience that in some very pivotal years during your childhood.” She closed her eyes. “I have shielded Anleigh from my dad’s treatment. She’s never seen me get hurt.”

I touched the tip of her nose, causing her to open her eyes. “Good.”

“But what does that have to do with you helping me pay for a lawyer?” she asked.

I grinned. “I donate almost a quarter of my salary every year to help women escape abusive situations.”

She blinked.

“When I was drafted, I made it my life’s mission to make sure that if a woman wanted to leave, she could,” I continued. “And helping you would be no different than me helping those women at a shelter.”

“Maybe you’re right, but…”

I interrupted her comment with one of my own. “I like you, Merriam.”

She closed her mouth.

“And I know you like me,” I continued. “I want to see where this goes. But in order to do that, I have to help you get yourself free first. You have to stand on your own two feet, and I want to help you do that. And when you’re finally able to do that, I want you to choose to come back to me.”

Her eyes softened.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked.

“I want to help you every step of the way,” I exclaimed. “I want to help you find a job you’ll love. I want to help you find an apartment. I want to help you watch over Anleigh when you start working. I want to be with you, in any capacity that you’ll let me.”

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