Page 19 of Duress
I, however, have no problem giving my brother the ultimatefuck youby stealing his wife. She deserves better than being his trophy, and I’m going to prove to her that I’m better.
After an uneventful shift,I head over to see Mom. I texted her that I would be coming by. I want to get a sense of how she might feel about moving…and maybe living with her son. She fell into a deep depression after Dad died, and became reclusive to the point that I was basically raising myself and taking care of her. It’s one more reason why Serena and I have bonded beyond just being partners at work.
We both were dealt shitty cards growing up. Losing our dads at a young age and being forced to become caretakers for our remaining parent. Bryce should’ve been the one to step in and take care of Mom, seeing as how he was an actual adult at the time. But he did fuck all aside from helping with Dad’s estate, stopping by on the holidays, and selling the house once I graduated from the academy. He claimed it was to use the proceeds to pay for a smaller place for Mom to live since she was no longer working. I think it was his way of kicking me out. He couldn’t cut me off fast enough.
I haven’t missed out on the irony of him needingmyhelp with a case that will advance his career significantly. Once I figure out a viable solution to Mom’s living situation, I’ll talk to Serena about the evidence we had documenting Dominick’s abuse. Make sure her and Kai’s alibis are airtight, then tell Bryce to get fucked. I’m done with him thinking he can dictate my life.
I knock once on the front door before letting myself in. Mom is usually in the back yard tending to her garden when I come by. She’ll probably be tending to the last of her blooms before fall fully sets in and makes the temperatures drop. She threw herself into gardening when she moved into this place and it’s the main reason why I am loathe to make her move. It’s the one thing that’s broughther joy since Dad died. If I have to find a place for us both to live on my salary, it’ll likely be a cramped, two-bedroom apartment with no yard.
When I step out on her small back deck, I find her watering her mums. There’s a pitcher of lemonade accompanied by two glasses and a plate of cookies sitting on the wrought iron table.
A wave of nostalgia hits me seeing the set up in front of me. Lemonade and cookies used to be our routine when I would get home from school when I was young. She always had them waiting, and she would sit with me and help me with homework or ask me how my day was. That lasted until I was in high school and busy with sports and friends and chasing after girls. Then she would only bring out the cookies and lemonade when she needed to have a serious talk with me about grades or something. Then Dad died, and she stopped baking cookies. She stopped getting out of bed. She stopped living. I don’t remember the last time we sat and had lemonade and cookies.
“Hey, Ma. The mums are looking good.” I lean on the porch rail to get a better look at the purple, burgundy, and orange blooms that line the flower beds that surround the small porch.
Mom’s green eyes, the very same ones I inherited from her, light up when she sees me. Her once charcoal dark hair is salt and pepper now, but her face still looks like the woman who raised me. Just with a few more lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her mental health has improved a lot the past few years. Not so much that she’s been able to bring herself to go back to work or really bearound people, but she’s gotten to a good place of pursuing some hobbies and interests at home to occupy her time. After setting aside the watering can and her garden gloves, she climbs the stairs and wraps me in a tight hug. She smells like dirt and flowers and home. I squeeze her tight, trying to hold on to this feeling of serenity before I shatter it with the news that she might have to move.
“What’s with the cookies, Ma? You haven’t baked in years.” I snag a cookie as she pours the lemonade. Oatmeal chocolate chip. My favorite.
“The urge just hit me when you sent that text earlier. It sounded like you needed to talk. Everything okay, sweetie?” I fight the urge to cringe at the endearment. Around the age of twelve I decided I was too cool for my mom to call me sweetie, so I asked her to stop. Hearing it now just reminds me of how much I took for granted before our lives were completely upended. Suddenly I’m the same young boy who just wants his mom to tell him what to do.
This is the mother who used to listen to me when I complained about bullies in school. The woman who patiently helped me with algebra when I struggled thanks to my dyscalculia. This is the woman who tried so damn hard to keep the peace between me and my brother, even though the friction between us ran so much deeper than typical sibling rivalry. Now I get to tell her how no matter how much she tried to help us bond, it would never be enough.
I open my mouth to mention the move but surprise myself when a question comes out instead. “Why does Bryce hate me so much?”
Mom doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks off to the trees that line the back of the property. Her eyes get that faraway look I became all too familiar with when she was so lost after losing her husband.
“I know he blamed Dad for Brian leaving, but why take it out on me?”
She lets out a deep sigh before turning her attention back to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “My relationship with Brian wasn’t great. It started out okay. We were college sweethearts. He proposed as soon as we graduated. I thought we had it all figured out. We graduated, got married, bought a house, and got pregnant with Bryce all in the same year. Things were great. Then Brian got a good job in finance, and he had all these big aspirations to become some hot shot CEO. The more money he made, the more time he spent at work. It got to the point where he was traveling so much for business deals that we barely ever saw him. It was just me and Bryce for so long. He was such a momma’s boy, but every time Brian came home from work, Bryce would look at him like he hung the moon.
Then one night, when he was home, I woke up, and he wasn’t in bed. I got up to look for him and heard him talking in his office. He was talking to another woman. I won’t go into detail, but needless to say, it wasn’t just a business conversation.” Mom pauses, taking a sip of her lemonade. She makes a face and stands up. “Hang on, this conversation calls for something stronger.”
I wait as she disappears into the house. When she returns, she is carrying a small bottle of vodka. She pours ahealthy measure into both of our lemonades before resuming her story.
“I was so hurt and so angry. I thought he worked so hard to provide for us, but it turned out he took all those business trips because he had a mistress in another city. Multiple in fact. I learned that after I did some investigating.”
“Why didn’t you just divorce him, Ma?” It hurts to see Mom relive some of her most painful memories, but I want to know the truth. I want to know why my brother hates me so much.
“Oh, I wanted to. I confronted him about it when I eventually worked up the courage. But Brian told me they meant nothing, and it was just a way to kill the time while he was on the road. He said all the right things, did all the remorseful husband duties. I didn’t want to destroy the life we’d built together so I told him I’d give him another chance. Because I worked part time, only while Bryce was in school, I didn’t make a lot of money and relied on Brian to provide for us. I was scared to get divorced. I wasn’t sure how I would support the two of us on my salary. Bryce was still young enough that I would have to pay for before school and after school care if I got a full time job… It was complicated.” Mom takes a long drink of her spiked lemonade before continuing.
“Eventually I discovered another affair. That time I did leave. I packed Bryce up, and we left while Brian was on a work trip. I left a note telling him I wanted a divorce. When he got back from the trip, he called the police and told him I had kidnapped Bryce. I was picked up at thegrocery store when I was buying food and snacks to take back to the motel room where we were staying. Bryce was eight at the time. He got to watch his mother be arrested and put in the back of a police cruiser while his daddy came and rescued him.”
My gut clenches at Mom’s story as I realize the apple didn’t fall too far from that particular tree. Bryce definitely inherited his dad’s manipulative, narcissistic personality.
“After spending a night in holding, Brian dropped the charges and took me home. He told me if I ever tried to leave him again, he would sue me for full custody of Bryce and never let me see him. He had the money to hire the best divorce attorneys that I would never be able to afford to fight. So…I stayed.” I watch as she wipes away the silent tears.
“Why wouldn’t he want a divorce if he was busy dipping his stick in women all over the country?” Rage toward Brian builds inside me. My hand clenches into a fist as I imagine tracking him down and kicking his ass for treating my mother the way he did.
“Appearances. It’s all about appearances. It was a lonely few years until I met Jake.” A wistful smile appears on her face at the mention of her deceased husband. “We met when I hired him to do some repairs on the house. It was like a cheesy romance novel. He was working on renovating the bathroom and came to ask me a question. He caught me in the kitchen, crying because I was a depressed, miserable mess then. He was so concerned. He sat me down at the table, got me a glass of water, and sat with me. It had been so long since someone showed methat kind of empathy that I just opened up and let it all pour out.
We talked every day for hours while he was there working. I would find new repairs for him to do or change my mind on things he had already renovated. Anything to draw out our time together. I would make him lunch while he worked, and help at times too. I did whatever I could to come up with an excuse to be near him. He made me laugh… Oh, how he made me laugh. He listened to me. He made me feel seen. Eventually I realized I had developed feelings for him. I didn’t act on them at first but…” Mom shrugs her shoulders sheepishly.
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” I finished for her, not terribly interested in the more in-depth details of my parents’ sex lives.
“Right. Well. I became pregnant with you. I honestly wasn’t sure who the father was. Brian was still forcing intimacy between us when he was home. Jake begged me to leave Brian and let him raise you and Bryce, but I couldn’t until I knew who the father was. It wasn’t obvious until you were born and they typed your blood. I’m B+ and Brian was AB+. You are O+. I guess that was the final straw for Brian. He left. Just…disappeared one day. Left the divorce papers on the kitchen table. Jake stepped up in a huge way, but Bryce never got over being abandoned by his father like that. I think… I think the fact that it happened when you were born tied the two things together in Bryce’s mind, and he blamed you instead of putting the blame where it really belonged. On me and your dad. We were the grown-ups in the situation.”
Mom looks crest fallen. I don’t want her to feel guilty for trying to find happiness in such a shitty situation. I reach across the table and take her hand. When she looks at me, she gives me a sad smile. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I tried so hard to make it right, for Bryce. No matter how much I wanted to blame his father and tell him that Brian had abandoned us, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take that from Bryce. Jake did everything he could to try to make Bryce feel like he loved you both as his own, but Bryce never would give him a real chance. I knew you boys didn’t have the best relationship but hate you? You really think he hates you? What happened between you?”
