Page 72 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Is this woman for real?” Sadly, this is the way she’s always been. I can’t ever remember a time when she didn’t act this way, and I fully understand why she and my dad divorced when I was younger.
When Mom reaches for the wine and pours herself a glass, I know exactly where the night is heading, and I’m pissed. Beyond pissed.
Oliver gets up from his place at the table and then rips Noah’s phone off the shelf it’s on. He hands it to my mother. “Here, find that video we took earlier of me playing basketball.” He looks at Noah. “I made a basket from the three-point line, Dad.”
Noah smiles, but then he and Bonner exchange a terrified look. I’m not completely positive, but I can take a wild guess as to why that look is exchanged.
It happens faster than I’m sure Noah would like, but in amongst the conversation at the table, my mother finds our sex tape on Noah’s phone. You remember, the one where we had sex for a couple of hours and it ended with a black eye? The one he promised he’d delete?
He didn’t.
I look at my husband. His expression is blank but terrified. I look to my mother, and she fucking pushes Play as she whispers to Oliver, “Is this one it?”
The moment Noah hears my giggles and his laughter on the video, he lunges for the phone, knocks over wine, plates, basically destroys the table in the process to get to his phone and throws it across the room. It hits the wall and breaks.
“That definitely wasn’t my basketball video,” Oliver says, his eyes wandering to mine, and then Noah’s. “Was that you and Mommy?”
The next five minutes are spent trying to explain to the kids what just happened. It’s possibly the worst experience of my life, and Kate and Jason, they try to fix Noah’s phone. I think only because they really want to watch the video.
With bright red cheeks, my mom reaches for the wine bottle, shaking her head as she pours another glass. “I can’t believe what I just saw.”
I look at the wine bottle. “It’s not like you saw anything. The good stuff doesn’t happen until the middle.”
Noah chuckles, but his tone is off. He wants to laugh, but when our eyes meet, he knows I’m super pissed at him. In case he doesn’t, I scowl just so he knows.
The motherfucker shrugs and winks at me. Stupid, adorable asshole.
Here’s something I should point out. My mom is an angry drunk. Always has been, and, like I said, I know once she starts drinking, what has already been said will just keep coming. At Mara’s funeral, she drank so much she fell down beside the grave. Not from grief or despair that her firstborn granddaughter had passed away, but because she was so drunk she couldn’t even stand up.
Mom stares at me, remembering my faults, probably wondering if I still have the same ones. She’s looking for an angle, a way to get me to fall victim to her ways. Only I won’t this time. “That’s irresponsible parenting to let your children find something like that,” she whispers to me.
My eyes dare to drift to Noah. His hand finds his hair, frustrated as he watches my mom with a deep sigh. “He didn’t see anything,” Noah says.
This is awful.I can’t believe he didn’t delete the video. Actually, I can, but still, did Oliver see anything? Is this the one instance in his life where he’s going to look back and remember it as the moment his life went wrong?
Our friends are trying their hardest not to be involved and keep up their conversations at the end of the table. Kate and Jason watch us, Noah’s staring at my mother in disbelief, and then the kids. They’re playing with their food and paying no mind to any of us. I doubt they even know what’s going on or will remember Noah’s reaction to the video.
“Mom, knock it off,” I plead, tears surfacing. “Let’s just move on from it.”
“I’m just saying that I think since Mara—”
She doesn’t finish her sentence before Noah loses it. “Do not mention her name again. You lost the chance to ever talk about her around me.”
Kate looks to Ashlynn, then Charlee and Gretchen sensing the conversation changing and takes the kids into the kitchen with her. “Mommy made you cookies in there,” she says quietly to them, drawing their attention from us to the sugar.
“She wasmygranddaughter. I can mention her if I want.”
Noah’s body tenses beside me. “This is my goddamn house, and no, you can’t mention her around me.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” my mom has the nerve to say.
“Get out.” Noah slams his fist down on the table, rattling the glasses. “Get the fuck out now before I throw you out.” She doesn’t move. “I mean it, get the fuck out!” He stands, pointing toward the door in an aggravated jab.
What a fucking nightmare.
My mom’s mission in life, I swear, is to interfere with mine.
Clearing her throat, she stands, acting offended. “Well, if that’s how you feel.”
