Page 165 of Not Another Yesterday
He takes a breath.
“But eventually I understood that what happened to me isn’t who I am. It’s not my identity. I’m more than his son. I’m more than the bruises and broken bones. I’m not my father.”
Ashley leans her head against his shoulder, and Cormac’s voice softens.
“I’m Mac Johnson. I’m Ashley’s husband. Mark’s dad. I’ve built a life for myself that has nothing to do with him. I have my own business, my own home, my own family. And all of that… I chose it. I made that life for myself.”
He looks over at me. “Everything before I left happened to me. But everything after? I made it happen. And it’s a damn good life.”
Ashley smiles up at him, full of quiet pride.
“How far along is your girlfriend?” she asks me gently.
“A little over three months,” I say.
She nods, still smiling. “How long have you been together?”
“Just over two years,” I say. “It wasn’t… really planned.”
Cormac lets out a low chuckle. “Yeah, it rarely is when you’re young. It wasn’t planned for Ashley and me, either. We had Mark when we were twenty-one.”
He glances between me and Mark. “Actually, Ronan, when’s your birthday?”
“June second,” I say.
“My birthday’s May twenty-fourth,” Mark chimes in, grinning. “I just turned nineteen, too.”
“Crazy to think Rica had her first baby at sixteen,” Cormac murmurs, his voice heavy.
“It wasn’t exactly planned by us, either,” my dad says with a sheepish smile.
“I bet,” Cormac says dryly. “I bet my father lost his shit.”
“He did,” my dad says. “Kicked her out.”
There’s a moment of silence. Something shifts in Cormac’s expression—something tentative and raw.
“I think… I think I should go see my sister sometime,” he says quietly.
Ashley nods, her hand brushing gently over his arm.
“Frank,” Cormac says, turning toward my dad. “Do you happen to know which prison she’s in…?” But his voice fades, the question unraveling halfway through. Just saying the words seems to undo him.
My dad answers softly and writes down the name and address. While he does, the rest of us sit in silence. Ashley’s fingers gently rub Cormac’s back. Mark stares at the floor. I watch Cormac fold the paper in half, like it might tear if he isn’t careful.
“Are you guys driving back to New York tonight?” he asks, finally breaking the quiet.
“No,” my dad says. “We’re staying at a motel overnight. Heading back in the morning. It’s a bit of a drive.”
Cormac nods slowly. Then, almost shyly, “Why don’t we all grab some dinner?”
He glances at Ashley, who smiles without hesitation.
“We could check out that seafood place I mentioned earlier,” he says, his eyes landing on me now, soft and open.
My dad shifts a little, his voice polite. “We’d hate to inconvenience you.”
“Not at all,” Ashley says, waving him off with a warm grin. “After all, you’re family.”
