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Jase
We need to talk.
He called me. Not the other way around.
For once, my kid was fighting, maybe not for me, us, or himself, but his mom. He’s fighting for her.
It’s been weeks. Fucking weeks. His voice has changed in that short period, that or I never paid enough attention like a dad is meant to do so.
He didn’t tell me what he wanted, only that we needed to meet. I would do anything for him, so I asked for a time and place. He said he’d meet me at home, that Gene would bring him.
It’s been a day, and I’m impatiently waiting for him to get here. Unlike our last conversation, he seems calmer. I don’t think he would forgive me after what he witnessed with Ellie. Knowing my kid can’t stand the sight of me is the worst feeling imaginable. Hatred washed over me every time he saw me, his hatred for me covering me like ink.
Thirty minutes pass before I hear a car door opening. Fuck. I didn’t even clean up. Yes, weeks later and my house is still a mess. I haven’t slept in our bed since then either, if you could even call what I’m doing sleeping.
The door opens, and in comes Gene and Ace.
Gene looks at our wall that once housed an array of family photos but now is beat to shit. His eyes widen, and I go for an excuse, but Ace beats me to it.
“Don’t worry, Pops. Mom went a little crazy before she left.” He says it like it’s a joke, but the undercurrent of despair is in his face even if he hides it from his voice.
“I’d never—” I start, but Gene stops me.
“I believe you.”
“Gramps, I know you’re, like, caring and shit, but I’m good.”
I go to scold him for his cursing. Lord knows I was doing much worse at his age, but Gene just laughs and slaps Ace’s back. “I’ve got you, kid. Always.”
Ace nods, a small smile on his face. “I know. I’ll call you when I’m ready to go.”
“Where will you go?” I ask Gene, unsure of what he could possibly do in the time.
“See Toby, of course. He hasn’t called in weeks. I’m worried about him.”
Weeks. He’s been unreachable for that long? Why is that?
“I’ll see you boys later. Millie says she loves you, Jase. Stop avoiding her calls.”
A chuckle escapes me. Mom never ceases to care even when I can’t care about myself.
Gene comes over to me, bringing me into a hug. “You smell like shit, boy. Clean up and get your life together.”
Unlike Brant and my father, Gene has filled shoes I never could have. He’s been so supportive and strong and has shown me a way to not hate my mom quite so much. We’re not best friends or anything, but he cares about me and Toby. He has done a lot more than either of our pathetic dads ever did.
With another laugh, he turns and leaves, waving at Ace.
I stand here, my stomach now filling with an insane amount of anxiety being alone with my own kid. He’s good at hiding his emotions, like me and Lo, but he’s a stronger version of us.
A scarier, more volatile version.
“Want something to eat?” I ask, attempting to break the awkward bubble threatening to swallow us both.
“Dad, I could cook you under the table in a heartbeat.”
We share a moment and laugh. Over the course of my relationship with Lo, I never did learn how to cook. There are so many things I took for granted. Cooking is the least of it.
“Plus, they fed me before dropping me off.”
After a pause, his face loses the lightheartedness, almost hardening all over again. He starts for the loveseat in the living room, and I go for a glass of tap water, praying for strength. I’ve cut out alcohol since that day, unwilling to be such a loser. You can’t take your life back if you don’t change.
“So...” I say, stretching out the word, eyeing him casually. He’s not relaxed sitting on the furniture I’ve seen him sit on over and over again. It’s almost like he’s protecting himself with the stiff posture and nonchalant attitude.
“What happened here?”
His question is sincere but also laced with confusion and anger, so much anger. How did I not notice before? Was I really that shitty of a parent, unable to see the destruction of my own son?
“A lot.” I leave it at that. I don’t want him worrying about his mom spiraling. Regardless of what he thinks, I know he pays attention to her, especially after she tried hurting herself all those years ago.
“Don’t. Like I told Mom before coming here, I’m sick of the lies. Be honest for once in your goddamn life.”
My eyes connect with his, feeling his temper raising by the second.
“Okay.” I want to reprimand him and tell him to stop cursing, but I can’t. Not when he willingly came here to try. “Your mom... she left me.” My throat aches with the admittance. My words are barely there, choked with the emotions ripping from the seams.
“I know,” he says with a nod, like this isn’t news.
She told him?
My shock must show because he smiles unapologetically. “She should have left ages ago.”
It hurts, the words and the wrath behind them. His disgust practically gut punches me.
“You’re happy she left,” I state, not ask. It’s rhetorical with how pleased he seems.
“At first,” he admits twining his fingers together, almost fidgeting. “Now...”
Taking a huge swig of water, wishing it was more potent, I level with him, wanting to know what I’m missing. “Now, what? Is she... is she relapsing?”
I use the word softly. Lo isn’t into drugs, but the depression is as crippling. It’s a disease. It taints, taunts and leaves no survivors. It doesn’t please. It doesn’t ask. And it doesn’t warn.
He nods, but then shakes his head. “Not exactly.”
“You’ve got to give me more than that, kid.”
“Why do you suddenly care? It’s not like you cared when you stuck your dick in Aunt El or when you kept doing it. Hell, you didn’t care enough to wear condoms and not get her pregnant,” he barks, venom dripping over every word.
I close my eyes, pain slithering across my skin like a venomous snake bite. If it’d make a difference, I’d tell him I never, not once, went without a condom. But that’s not where the anger is really resonating from, it’s everything adding up.
“You were a piece of shit, Dad. You ruined her. You ruined our family. You ruined happiness.”
It feels like there’s so much weight on my chest, as if there was a dog pile, and I was on the bottom, but they made sure the weight remained on my ribcage.
“I-I’m sorry.” It’s all I can offer. What can I say otherwise? I am a prick for not being enough, for not loving enough, for not fighting enough.
“It’s too late for that, Dad. You should have been better.”
He rakes a hand through his hair, pinching the bridge of his nose in the next second. He looks so old and aged here, with too much running rampant in his mind. Kids his age should be hanging out with friends, enjoying their childhood, partying. Not this. Never this.
“Ace—” I try, but he interrupts.
“No, let me get this out. While you were fucking a whore—” He shakes his head at me when I go to interrupt him. “Don’t. She’s a whore, and nothing you say can change that. The fact that she burrowed herself into our lives just for the sake of fucking you is pretty whorish.”
He stands up, grabbing the back of his neck, pacing back and forth.
“You forced me to grow up, both Mom and you, her with the depression, suicide attempts, and the meds, and you.” His voice drips with disdain. “You made me realize men are pigs. When their women need them most, they walk away. When life gets hard, they don’t care. When someone easy and nice to look at comes along, they spread their legs. You ruined my depiction of what a man should be. How am I supposed to grow up and be a man someday, have children, and be able to do what you never taught me? Words are just words, Dad, so before you get on your high horse and spew your BS about how you told me how to be good, your actions showed the exact opposite. I admired you, looked up to you. You were my hero, but one day, you took that away from me. I thought it was when I came home to a nearly dead mother, but I’ve realized it wasn’t then.”
He stops pacing long enough to peer at me with barely abated hatred.
“It was the first time I saw Aunt El touch you. I was about thirteen. It’d already been three years since Lilac and Grandma. Mom had put me to sleep. She was doing better, smiling more, being less robotic. The light was barely lit, but it was thriving in her heart. It was really late. You and Mom weren’t talking, but that was more due to the fact that you were never home anymore. That night, when you did come home, you were ragged and almost like you were drunk, but you were quiet.”
He glares down at me in my seated position, the tick in his jaw flickering fast.
“I’d woken up, thirsty for some reason. Not wanting to wake Mom, I snuck into the kitchen to get a glass of milk. At the door, you stood there whispering to someone. Thinking it was Mom, I creeped around the kitchen island. The thing was, it wasn’t Mom. It was Aunt El.”
He blows out a long breath, like this is hurting him more than me. I don’t even recall this night. There were so many I spent drinking until I couldn’t walk and hanging out with Ellie just to have someone to talk to.
“Well, Dad,” he deadpans, like there’s some quick catchphrase or joke coming, but there’s not. This is real life with real situations and real problems. “She grabbed your wrist, looking you in the eyes like Mom looks at you, and then she kissed your cheek. But unlike my smaller brain from before, I thought she was saying goodbye nicely. Now, though, I know it’s because you and her were cheating long before Gray told me.”
Out of all that, the thing that connects is her name.
“Gray told you?” I merely whisper, knowing she would eventually tell someone. I just didn't think it would be Ace.
“She was my best friend so, yeah. Way after the fact, she told me. She admitted that you hung out with her and made her feel special, and then she caught you and Aunt El together once.”
My eyes must be wide as saucers because I’m stunned.
“Yeah, Dad. You fucked around on Mom while little Gray was there.”
I swallow thickly, my skin itching with acknowledgement. I’m a shitty husband, and Ace pointed out how shitty of a father I am.
“While you were boning my aunt and being a father to a kid that doesn’t share your DNA, this house fell apart.”
“Why did you never tell your mom?”
“You really think I would tell her what you did?” he spits, his face redder than before. “She was already falling apart. She already tried killing herself. I wasn’t worsening it for a second. I kept your dirty secret, Dad, and it ruined me in the process.”
He finally sits back down, and I’m speechless. There’s not an excuse or explanation for anything I put them through. There are no words or poetic prose to offer him that would possibly make up for my choices.
There’s nothing.
Just emptiness.
Regret.
Turmoil.
Failure.
“But that’s not why I’m here.” When he says that, my eyes leave the ground for a moment, connecting with his. “I’m here to tell you to get her back.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion, my shoulders tense with shock, my stomach feels empty with despair.
“What?” I balk, unsure of what game he’s playing.
“I want you to fight for her. God knows I’ll never forgive you for this, but her, my mom, your wife... she’s miserable without you, and I want you to earn her back. Not in my eyes, but in hers.”
I have already been planning on trying to do that, but I just didn’t know how. I need a door to step through, an opening, an in. Now that it’s here, I’m shocked.
“Right now, Dad. You don’t deserve her time. You don’t even deserve to know her, but the thing is, she still loves you. After everything you put her through, the pain, the loss, the cheating, she still loves you. She’s hurting. I can tell every time you call her and she tells you to leave her alone.”
Every time you call her and she tells you to leave her alone.
That’s not me.
She doesn’t answer me.
I’ve given her space.
I’ve let her have her breathing room.
Fucking. Toby.
“I haven’t spoken to your mom since she left me,” I admit.
He quirks an eyebrow, acting like I’m lying. “She wouldn’t talk to anyone like that, Dad. Only you.”
“Maybe I was drunk,” I attempt. “I’ve had a lot lately.”
His eyes speak volumes. He doesn’t believe me, but he’s smart enough to let it go. “Come back with me for dinner. It’s a start.”
I eye him, wondering when my son became a man and how the hell it’s possible to fix things.
“Okay,” I manage.