Page 4 of All That Lies Ahead

“Okay,” she says slowly. “And how’s Emily taking this? Did she know you were seeing Addison?”

“She’s handling it well, better than I think anyone else in her shoes would be. Her and Addison have already become... friendly. You know how Emily is.”

My mother nods, ever so slightly, causing a few of the tears to drop down her cheeks.

I mutter an expletive, standing to bring her in for a hug. She doesn’t even bother to chastise me for cursing. Still sitting, her head barely reaches my chest, but I squeeze her to me as much as possible with the angle I have.

“It’s okay, Mom. I promise.”

This is why I wanted to talk to her directly rather than have my father tell her the news. My mom—not unlike most mothers—takes worrying to a whole new level. I thought if I was here to answer what I’m sure would be her many questions, I could help her feel better about the situation. She’s also fiercely protective of Emily, just as we all are. I’m not surprised she’s so shaken.

After a few moments of tears, the initial shock seems to wear off, and my mom pulls back from my arms, patting her face dry. The sadness on her face has been replaced with a scowl, and she shakes her fist at me like she’s a little old lady and I’m the would-be mugger who dared to attack her on the subway.

Then, she walks around the island to grab the tissue box. “Damn it, Chase! How the hell did this happen? Didn’t I raise you better than this?”

I don’t even need a whole hand to count how many times I remember hearing my mom curse. The first was during a fight with my dad. It sticks out in my memory because they didn’t fight often, at least not in front of me, and never do I remember a fight as big as that one. I couldn’t even tell you what it was about, but I can tell you the sentence that has played over in my mind since.

“You’re an asshole, Rudy Prescott!”

It’s true. Sometimes, my dad can be a real asshole, but it’s never out of malice. He’s just a guy that likes to make people laugh, and sometimes, he crosses the line in order to do so.

When I’d first brought up the incident months later, my mother’s cheeks had reddened, and she distracted me with the promise of extra dessert.

The next time she cursed was when she cut her finger with a fancy, new kitchen knife she had just gotten for Christmas. One minute, she was cheering that her new knife cut like a dream, and the next, she was screaming at me to call 911, her finger hanging by a thread. Or a tendon. I just barely managed to make the call before passing out and hitting my head on the kitchen table.

We both earned an ambulance ride that afternoon.

And the third time is now.

I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten the last two times, and she definitely won’t forget this one either.

“Can I explain, please?” I ask.

She pats her face one last time and drops back down onto her stool. She crosses her arms over her chest and mutters something I don’t quite catch, but frankly, I’m glad. The look on her face tells me she means business.

I settle back into my seat, not holding anything back as I tell her my and Addison’s story from start to finish. I do omit the X-rated details, of course, but otherwise, I pour my heart out to her.

“Oh dear” is all my mother manages. Her eyes are a little less hard and disappointed now, back to pained. I’m not sure which look is worse. “I understand your predicament, but my heart hurts for Emily. And Addison, too.”

“I know, Mom. Me too,” I agree quietly. “I promise, Emily is doing well. There’s still a lot that each one of us needs to work through, but we’ll get there. We’re all adults and we’re going to get through this—together.”

“And Willow?” she asks.

I drop my eyes, feeling shame for the first time in our conversation. Trying to explain such an adult situation to a ten-year-old has been a challenge, but I know we’re doing the right thing by giving her as much of the truth as possible. She deserves that. She deserves to be allowed to work through her own feelings in her own time, and shielding her from the truth just because it’s complicated wouldn’t help any of us.

“That’s been a little tricky.”

“I thought it might be. I’m sure she has a lot of emotions.” She takes a deep breath and lays her palm against my cheek. “Well, if there’s one thing I know it’s that you have plenty of love to give, and you’re going to be just as good of a father to that baby as you are to Willow. Everything will work itself out in the end.”

Her timer dings, and she jumps up from her barstool with a clap of her hands. “Now, tell me all about this Addison while we eat this cheesecake.”

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