Page 92 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Lies!I want to talk about it right now, hash it all out. Is she moving, or am I? I’d really hate to give this place up now that it’s finally coming together the way I want, but I really don’t see her leaving her grandmother and the home she’s always known behind. This will have to be a conversation for another time.

We head back to my parents’, enjoy another dinner on the patio with my family, and head upstairs for Chloe’s bath time. I bathe and dress Chloe for bed and brush her teeth so Abby can pack. They head back home tomorrow, and Abby wants everything to be ready to go so they can spend the morning with me. We read a couple bedtime stories, and when Chloe starts to yawn and rub her eyes, Abby settles her into the crib. My phone dings from my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from my dad. That’s weird. He’s texting me from downstairs?

Dad:Come to my office. Your mother and I need to speak with you.

My brow pinches in confusion and concern. This is odd. I can’t imagine what they have to say to me and why it can’t wait until tomorrow.

“Hey, Dad wants to see me downstairs. Be back in a few,” I call out, not wanting to worry Abby. I slip out of the room before she can respond.

The door to Dad’s office is open, so I knock on the frame before entering. Both my parents are standing in front of his desk across the room, my mom with her back to the door, leaned over and gripping the edge with white-knuckled hands. My father stands off to the side, cradling his chin in his hands like he’s mulling over something serious.

“What’s going on?” I ask from the doorway. The air is thick with tension, and a sense of foreboding fills my gut. I swallow back my unease and walk into the room, even though my instincts scream for me to run.

“Shut the door, son,” my father instructs. My mother still has her back to me, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. What the fuck is going on?

I do as instructed, keeping my mouth shut because I know those are the words that will come rushing out if I open it.

“Have a seat, Jacob.” I fall into the chair, a ball of dread settling in my gut. Whatever this is about, it’s not good. “Evelyn?” my father prompts, a barely contained fury boiling under the surface of his usually calm demeanor. His use of her full name catches me off guard. He never calls her that. He always addresses her as Ev, Evie, or darling. That tight knot in my stomach starts to unfurl, spreading wariness throughout my entire being.

She takes a few shuddering breaths and wipes her eyes before turning to me. Her face is pale and drawn, and dark circles rim her puffy red eyes.

“Mom, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

“There’s something I need to tell you, but I need you to stay calm and let me explain everything.” She holds her hands out pleadingly, palms turned under as though she’s already trying to calm me down.

“Okay,” I drawl out, wondering what on earth she could’ve done that’s so bad. Never in a million years could I anticipate the devastation her next words would cause.

“It was me,” she says, her eyes glazing over with fresh tears. I glance back and forth between my parents, utterly confused.

She looks to my dad for help or maybe guidance; I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want to know what she’s talking about. “Go on, Evelyn. He needs to hear all of it.”

“I’m the one who had your phone.”

The moment it clicks, I jump from my seat, knocking it over in my haste. It clatters across the floor, skidding to a stop against the coffee table.

“Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it means,” I bite out, my fists and teeth clenched, my entire body consumed by fury.

“I was the one texting Abby.” Her words come out in a rush as though if she doesn’t get them out fast enough, she won’t be able to speak them. “I pretended to be you. I didn’t want her ruining your future. I didn’t want you to be tied down by some fling.”

Her confession inflames my already burning rage and I let out a primal, guttural roar as I swipe my arm across my father’s desk. She jumps, backing away from me and the now empty desk as books and papers scatter to the floor, glasses and mugs shattering on the wood.

“How could you?” I shout, my voice reverberating off the walls. I pick up my father’s decanter from his sideboard and throw it as hard as I can. My mother ducks, throwing her arms over her head in a protective maneuver as the glass whizzes by several feet in front of her face. I watch it shatter, spraying fifty-year-old scotch all over the walls. She scurries behind my father’s desk in an attempt to put more space and obstacles between us.

“Jacob, that’s enough!” my father’s voice booms.

“No!” I yell back. “It’s nowhere near enough. She ruined everything! She’s ruined my fucking life for the last two years! She stole my child from me, and the woman I love, and for what? So I wouldn’t have the smear of a bastard child on my reputation?” I throw my hands up, searching out her excuse even though nothing she can say will excuse her actions.

“Jacob, I’m sorry. I know now that what I did was wrong. I’ve regretted it every moment since I first saw that sweet little girl in your arms.”

“Don’t,” I warn. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. You don’t deserve to be her grandmother or even be in her life. You tried to trick Abby into aborting her, for Christ’s sake! You made her believe that’s what I wanted. You’re a monster!” I spit out disgustedly. She sobs, burying her face in her hands. I try to search my heart, my entire soul for forgiveness or empathy, but I find nothing for her. Nothing but hate.

“You.” I point an accusing finger at my father. “Did you know about this?” One parent betraying me is bad enough. If they were both involved, my daughter will never see either of them again.

“Of course not! I just found out about this moments before you did. I urged her to tell you the truth. You had the right to know.”

“You’re damn right about that. I have the right to know what a fucking snake you are!” I spit out, all my hate and venom aimed at my mother. “If you weren’t a woman…” I begin, placing my palms on the desk and leaning over, looking directly into her eyes. “If you weren’t my mother, I’d wrap my hands around your throat and choke the life from you for what you did to us.”

“That’s it!” my father shouts, grabbing me by the collar. “I know you’re angry and hurt right now, but you will never speak to your mother that way!” he fumes, his face burning bright red from his anger.

“You always take her side!” I accuse, throwing his hands off me. “No matter what she does to us, you always forgive her and make excuses. What’s it gonna be this time, Dad? Huh?” I goad him.

“Get out,” he commands in a low, menacing voice, releasing his hold on me.

“Gladly.” I fling the door open, slamming it shut so hard, pictures rattle against the wall. My entire body is on fire, vibrating with rage. I can’t go to Abby like this. I don’t know what I’m going to say to her, but I have to tell her. She deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know she’s been sleeping under the same roof of the devil who destroyed us. It’s a small conciliation that my mother didn’t manage to keep us apart. We somehow found our way back to each other, even with all the odds stacked against us.

I slip through the back door and run out into the night, letting the crisp autumn air cool my overheated skin. My lungs expand and fill, my arms pumping at my sides as I run as fast as I dare to in the dark with nothing but the moon to light my way. When I reach the edge of the property I fall to my knees, spent more from the emotional turmoil than from physical exertion. I lean over and brace my weight on my hands, feeling the irresistible urge to hit something. I raise my fist and smash it back into the ground. It feels good, so I do it again. Over and over, I slam my fist into the dirt until my knuckles are raw and bloody and I’m finally numb to the pain.

Completely drained, I trudge back to the house, hoping I don’t see either of my parents. If I do, I’ll lose my composure again and I won’t be able to talk to Abby. With my anger in check, all I can think about is getting to her. I hurry back to the house, needing to hold her in my arms.

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