Page 62 of Told You So
“I need to talk to you,” I tell her, and step outside.
She comes up to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. She’s short and petite in my embrace, and I hug her more tightly. When I open my eyes, I see the bottle of white wine on the table and a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie.
She takes a step back. “Well, this is a nice surprise. Do you want some dinner?” she asks, smoothing out her green blouse. She’s not wearing any makeup. She has nothing cooking. She wasn’t expecting me so there’s no charade in play.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. It’s obvious my dad didn’t call her, which I’m partially grateful for. Part of me needs to know how far she’s really willing to go to save face and protect me from the truth of their relationship. Another part of me wants to be mad at her, too, for lying to me—for doing this forme,if any of what my dad said is even true.
“Of course, everything’s fine. I didn’t have any plans today, so I figured I’d just...relax.” She laughs anxiously, and I can’t stomach her veiled truths.
“I know about Dad,” I bite out. My words are angry and clipped. I don’t want to sound like a petulant kid, but I want to shout at her to stop pretending.
“Excuse me?” She pales a little but has the nerve to seem affronted at the same time.
I hesitate, lost in the gaze of a mother who has loved me more than life itself for as long as I can remember. Only now do I see her pain and loneliness. “I know about Dad,” I repeat. “I saw him with her.”
Slowly, understanding fills her eyes, and her cheeks turn a burnt red. Deep lines crease around her lips. Her amber gaze doesn’t leave mine as she swallows and sits back down in her chair. “Sit, Nicholas.” Her voice sounds like a stranger’s, distant and maybe a little bit relieved.
“So, how long has he been screwing his partner?” I force out, unable to wrap my mind around this fake life they’ve been living.
“Language, please,” she says, clasping her hands in her lap. Despite how frail she seems, her tone brooks no argument.
I scrub my hands over my face and squeeze my eyes shut.
“I’m sorry you had to find out that way, sweetheart.” She takes a sip of her wine and rests her palm on the table. “And, to answer your question, I didn’t know it was a partner. I mean, I’m not surprised, but we don’t talk about his extracurricular activities.”
“How can you be so cavalier about this?” My words are strained and desperate, and I hate how small I sound.
My mom stares at me, sympathy in her expression, like she’s worried about me when it’s her my heart breaks for right now. My stomach roils in what feels a lot like guilt, and I hate my dad all the more for making me feel like I had some role to play in all of this. “And don’t tell me you did this for me. I wouldneverwant this.”
She nods and doesn’t say anything at all.
“I can’t believe this is happening.” I stare into the crystalline pool. Reilly and I used to compete for the biggest cannonball. Was my dad cheating then? My gaze shifts to my mom, but she’s fixated on the stem of her wine glass. “How long has this been going on?” I finally ask.
“A few years,” she admits, a bit reluctantly.
“A few years? You’ve been lying to me fora few years?” I grit my teeth. “This whole time you were putting on a show?”
“It wasn’t a show, Nick.”
“Of course it was a show, that’s all it’s been. Every family dinner, every time you’ve stopped by my apartment or we’ve gone out to dinner, acting like everything is fine. It’s all fake.”
“We didn’t want to burden you with—”
“The last three years have been a complete lie—it’s insulting. You knew why he wouldn’t work with me on the project—I feel like an idiot. My friends ask about you, and I tell them you’re doing fine. I tell them Dad’s working late and busy, not that he’s screwing his partner.” I hit the tabletop, sending her white wine sloshing over her glass.
“That’s enough,” she grinds out. “I know it’s difficult to accept all this, and I wish you didn’t have to find out this way, but this was our choice, Nicholas. This is what we chose, and that’s just the way it is.”
“Fine,” I say. I know her situation isn’t simple, but it seems black and white enough to me. “I’d like to know why. You’re a psychologist, for Christ’s sake. How could you possibly think lying to me is better than the truth?”
She doesn’t bother reprimanding me, she looks too exhausted. Her eyes glaze over until they begin to shimmer, and she looks away. Still calm and collected, she says, “Adults don’t always make the right decisions, or the best ones. But being a parent changes things. Sometimes we get ourselves into situations we’re not sure how to get out of, at least that’s how I’ve felt at times. One lie turns into five, then it turns into a lifestyle. It’s hard to break out of, even if you want to.”
She takes another sip of her wine. “When you were born, I was so happy. I kept telling myself that I didn’t need to go back to work because I had you, and you were my life, and I needed to spend as much time with you as I could. I knew one day you wouldn’t want your ol’ mom around, and I wanted to enjoy you while I had you.”
She offers me a sad smile. “I missed work though. I missed having a purpose in life outside this house.” Picking up her glass, she swirls her wine around and around, watching the liquid whirl. “When you and Josh became friends, I was so happy for you. Old Mr. Reilly was such a lost soul, so I was happy when you and Josh found each other. You were inseparable—such sweet boys—and you brought me so much joy. It helped me to forget that a part of me felt like it was missing.
“Then,” she continues, “you met Mac and Sam, and Sam’s mom had just died. The girls started spending almost as much time here with us as Josh did...It was nice, having a full house.”
“And now that we’re all living our own lives, you decide to live yours like this? You could go back to work if you miss it so much.”
