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“Yeah, I know, right? Oh, by the way, he’s picking us all up at nine tomorrow to take us out on his yacht.”
“Ooh, fancy.” Jilly was busy eating her way through a charcuterie board.
“Where did all this come from?” There was food on every possible surface in the room.
“Your beaux had it sent up to the room, along with some lovely wine.”
Mom was acting kind of weird, if you ask me. She’s been more talkative than I’ve seen her in years, and she was in the same room with Dad without looking like she wanted to die. I can’t think about those two now, though; I have to think about what the hell I’d gotten myself into saying yes to his proposal.
Of course, they didn’t leave me alone until they were satisfied that I really wanted this and wasn’t being forced into anything. I don’t know where they get these ideas. Dad was getting a firsthand up close and personal view of how we interact as a family, something he hasn’t seen in years because he was never invited to shit with us, and when I was forced to go to his home back in the day, we usually spent all of our time away from the common areas in his house.
I guess I should feel some guilt about the way I’ve treated him over the years after Mom’s story, but I don’t. He was an adult, and more so, Helen wouldn’t have had anything to threaten him with if he hadn’t fucked her in the first place. As for their dead bedroom and Mom hating him after giving birth, I’m not an expert, but they should’ve both sought help before things got out of hand, but that’s just me.
I was too little back then, and even now, I don’t have the answers; that’s between the two of them. What he did wrecked my innocent life and the lives of my brothers, who were still learning about life, and that innocence is something I will never get back.
It was their responsibility to love and raise us as healthily as possible, and now that I know what I do, they both dropped the ball. But, that being said, I believe in checks and balances. Once Dad realized his mistake and tried to rectify it, that bitch escalated shit; that’s why she’s about to lose her whole damn husband. Let’s see how she likes that shit.
A house built on another woman’s tears will not stand, not on my watch. So, what did I do? I secretly recorded Mom and Dad’s interactions, the way they teamed up as parents while sitting on the same couch together. The way they just seamlessly jumped back into parent mode when it came to one of their kids. Why they waited until we were adults to get their shit together is anyone’s guess, but I guess for them, it’s a case of better late than never.
“So, you’re doing this, you’re sure.”
“Yes, Bri, I’m sure. I think I like him.”
“See, when you say shit like this, it makes me worry.”
“Mom, did you marry Dad for love?”
“Why yes, I did.”
“See, and look where she is now.”
“That’s low, sis.” Cam chastised me.
“No, Cam, that’s life, that’s reality. People screw each other over every day. I can get screwed over and walk away with five million dollars for my troubles. I’m taking the cash, baby.”
“Stop playing tough, or we’ll get back on a plane home right now.”
“Trey, I don’t think she’s playing. Anyone who would walk into their Dad’s house and beat everybody doesn’t really play about life.”
“Jilly, your ADHD acting up or something? Mom doesn’t know about that.”
“What is she talking about? What happened?” I’m going to kill Jilly. Bri filled Mom in on the theatrics from weeks ago. She’d only learned about Denny and Lacey in the last week and was already having a hard time dealing with her baby being cheated on, now this.
“Oh, she must’ve been having one of her spells.” What now?
“Mom, you know about my spells?”
“She does; she has them, too,” Dad answered, and all their kids’ mouths fell open.
Now you’ve got to understand Mom is even shorter than I am. She’s also one of those women who wrings her ankle in flats, which means she lives in heels; even her house slippers are about three inches high. Her nails are always done, and she’s never left the house without at least foundation and lip gloss on, and that’s to go to the neighbor’s house.
The idea of her taking a baseball bat to anyone is comically laughable, but now, at least, I know where I got it. Dad spent the next half hour regaling us with stories of her antics when they were younger before us kids came along.
“But I didn’t raise my daughter to be that way.”
“She had no choice; Helen and Mitzie made her life hell.”
“When was this?” Dad had the nerve to ask. The boys tore into him for that one.
