“What? What was it, Mom? Because you never fell in love and made a single impulsive decision?”
“Jesus, Easton. Do you think I ever anticipatedthis? There’s no fucking handbook for this. I’m sorry. The very last thing I ever wanted was for you to marry the daughter of my ex-fiancé.”
“And why is that?” I vent. “It’s not like I ever had the full story. I asked you months ago, and you skirted it. You couldn’t even say his name. I asked Dad the same. He did the same shit. Turns out, it wasn’t just me. You lied to the world, letting them think you and Dad lived out some romantic rock and roll fairytale. You totally omitted Nate. No wonder he hates you both.”
She clamps her hand over her mouth and speaks through it. “I can’t believe you just said that to me.”
“He shaped you as a writer, did he not?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “So, you’re blaming me for his reaction, but not your own actions?”
I grip the leather of the couch, my gaze dropping. “I blame myself for thinking our parents give enough of a fuck about our happiness to act like mature adults.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” I swallow back my drink. “But I don’t see what’s so damned impossible that the four of you can’t get over it, so my wife and I can move on with our lives.”
She drops her head and sighs before opening her purse, pulling out a large bound script, and tossing it on my lap.
“I omitted Nate because my agent reached out, and he wanted no part of it.”
I lift it to see the title.Drive.
My mom did write the fucking book, and you weren’t in it.
Only the version you know of.
“You really wrote a book about them both? It wasn’t just you and Dad?”
She nods.
“And Dad read this?” I hold it up.
“Yes, he did. He wanted to.”
“Jesus.”
“Son, I love you more than any soul on earth. I carried you in my body for nine grueling months. Your father and I gave you everything we could as parents. I’ll freely admit that you’re wise well beyond your years, and while you can write and sing a thousand songs about yourperceptionof things, that’s all it is right now—yourperception. Until you’ve actually lived through it, that’s all it will ever be. All I’m hearing right now is a rant about yourperceptionof a person’s life to thepersonwho actually fuckinglived it. Experience is what truly shapes the soul, yourownexperience, and you haven’t gained enough or lived enough yet to fully form yours. So don’t tell me what I lived through and what you think you fucking know. I don’t give a damn aboutyour perceptionof one of the hardest trials ofmy life. But if you want insight into what canneverbe fully experienced through words alone, that’s the full story. You want the truth. It’s all there. There’s your option to know exactly why the three of us—Nate included—have reacted the way we have and why we don’t mention the other in passing. It’s not because we hate each other, and it’s not because ofone thingthat happened. It’s a culmination of things that fucking hurt.” She lifts her chin in defiance. “So before you preach another word to me, know what the hell you’re talking about. Now you can invade my privacy the way Natalie did and no longer blame me for keeping my fucking personal life my own.”
She furiously wipes a tear from her face as I sit stunned, and shame sets in.
“Do you think I’m not sorry for hurting you and Dad? Because I am, but this,” I pick up the book, “is your past.”
“My past turned into your future. Jesus, you told me your own wife tried desperately to warn you, but you’re still dismissive. You aren’t this selfish, Easton. You’re just too wrapped inside your pain to realize what a shit you’re becoming. Look at me, son,” she orders, and I lift my eyes to hers.
“Twenty or thirty years from now, let’s say Natalie isn’t a part of your life anymore. Do you think, for one second, your experiences and love for her, your recollection of the way you’re feeling right now, the bitterness, the ache, won’t be bittersweet? Especially if you’re forced away from each otherpermanentlywith as much as you love herright now? You’relivingthe love story that will help shape your soul, Easton.”
“So why choose Dad?” I seethe. “If you harbor so much lingering love for another man?”
“Stop,” she says. “That’s enough. You want an explanation?” She gestures toward the manuscript. “There it is. That book is a product of the peace I made letting Nate go, along with an affirmation of all our decisions. Which were the right ones. I have never, not once, regretted it.”
“Might want to let Dad know. He thinks you still think about Nate.”
Mom pauses. “Well, I did. It’s natural. But I hadn’t in a very, very long time—until you married his daughter.”
She stands and shoulders her purse. “You’re everything I hoped for. You’re all of it. You’re the best mix of your father and me, and I couldn’t be more proud of the man you’re becoming. But as cocksure as you’re acting, you have plenty of growing up left to do. We, as your parents, deserve better, and yourwifedoes too. You want to be a married grown-up, fine,grow the fuck up. Your father and I aren’t at fault here, and I’m done trying to bridge this. This is a conscious decision you made, knowing the hurt it would cause. Try and simplify love all you want, Easton, but you’re still just a punk-ass twenty-two-year-old kid. Try living with the intensity of the love you feel foryears,only to lose it to another you feel just as much for, and then come to me and tell me how fucking simple it is. You made a decision, son. Now you have to live with it.”
Tossing my bottle, it shatters against the wall as I stand and face off with my furious mother. “Okay, Mom. I’ll stop loving her. I’ll start fucking groupies and live an empty existence like the little rock star you raised me to be. Maybe I’ll come home addicted to something fun for Christmas.”