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The truth was that I was still waiting for that moment, even as she walked around this kitchen, going on and on about tomorrow and whether or not we were prepared enough. Trying to figure out whether we could fight to get the case pushed back until we could build up some evidence against the men at Crawford & Beam. Or until the police found something, anything to at least breed suspicion.
My own thoughts drowned out her chatter as a greater need was born inside me. The need to know whether I had made a mistake. Tiffany’s words cut through me like a serrated blade. Guilt marinated my bones, simmering deep within my muscles. Did I falsely accuse those men? Was Tiffany telling the truth? A sick rhythm beat within my stomach churning out nausea. If I’d been wrong, then she was right. I’d been a horrible father.
And if I were right, she was also right about me being a horrible father. I wouldn’t have stood next to her mother as she publicly disowned her. Her mother would’ve heard my disapproval of her ordering security to toss Tiffany out of the law firm. Tiffany, my daughter would’ve been my first priority today as she screamed her lungs, trying to get us to listen. She was right either way. I was pathetic.
“Are you even listening to me, Benedict?” my wife said, forcing me to look at her.
“Yes, yes, I’m listening,” I said, running a hand through my graying red hair. The left side of my chest tightened, prompting me to lean up against the kitchen counter to steady myself.
She rushed over to me, rubbing my back as I took a seat. “Do you need some water?” she asked.
“Yes, please.” I nodded.
She returned with it, standing before me as she watched me drink it, patting my hand when I was done. “You see, you’re just letting yourself overthink things. Don’t worry about what Tiffany said. When it’s your turn to go on the stand, just say what you believe happened. You remember what you believe happened, don’t you? You remember why you basically challenged the men to a lawsuit?”
For a brief second, as she stroked my back, brought me water, and squeezed my hand, it was there. That moment. Fleeting and bittersweet since I knew the show of compassion was just because my faintness had gotten in the way of her talking, and she wanted my full attention. See, I knew my wife. It wasn’t as if I weren’t aware of her manner. I would have had to been blind not to see her true self but knowing her didn’t make me love her any less. And I still clutched to some hope that I wasn’t trapped into a marriage of doom.
Placing my hand over hers, I asked, “What are you afraid of, Valerie?”
The words fell from my lips. They’d been sitting there for so long. She froze before attempting to pull her hand from beneath mine, but I seized it. “Val,” I said. “Don’t run away. Talk to me. What are you afraid of?” I asked, tugging her toward me.
Redness filled her cheeks as she fell forward in my arms. Yet she stiffened in my embrace, pushing herself from me. “What is this, Ben?” she asked, scrunching her face up in annoyance as she answered my question with one of her own. She adjusted my collar that had gotten messed up from her fall.
“This is not the time for foolishness. You’re just trying to distract me from what’s happening tomorrow, and we need to spend all night preparing.” She began to walk away.
“When does it stop, Val?” I asked, resting my elbow on the table so I could lean my face into my palm. “When do we stop preparing for something big and just go back to the moments when being with each other actually made us happy?”
She brought her brows together before rolling her eyes. “Oh, Ben. We’re too old to be happy.” She laughed as if the idea was naive and immature.
“I miss you Val,” I said.
She rolled her eyes again, crossing her arms across her chest. “This is ridiculous,” she scoffed. “I’m going to the library to do some more preparation. We have to be up early tomorrow, and we have to make sure we don’t look like fools when we show up. So, if you won’t pull your weight, I guess I’ll have to pull it for both of us.” She stomped across the fluorescent-lit kitchen.
Shaking my head from fatigue, I said, “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone anymore. Look at you. You’ve done it. Everything you said you ever wanted to do. You’re no longer that kid who struggled. You haven’t been that kid for a long time. You don’t have to keep running. What would you lose if you showed up tomorrow and told everyone that the lawsuit was a mistake?”
She paused as if she’d just been shot in the back by an arrow. Slowly, she turned around on her heels to face me. Her eyes were red and strained. “The fact that you even have to ask me that makes me wonder if you even know me at all. I’d lose everything, Ben. Everything.”
The quickness of her feet to escape me and the slamming of the library door brought an end to our conversation. Scratching my brow, I rose up from my seat, knowing this was a bad idea as I walked to the library to knock on the door and ask for her forgiveness.
Chapter 21
Chris
Thoughtheaching,sinkingpit in my stomach craved a drink, the needs of my son took precedence. Sitting on the back porch in the early morning when the sun was soft, with him snuggled in my arms, drinking from a bottle, filled me up so much more than the beers would have. His sleepy eyes fluttered closed, and his small, delicate body made the protective side of me jump to the forefront of my mind as I stared at him.
“I hope that no matter what happens in this world, whatever your choices and how we feel about them, you’ll always feel loved by me and your mother,” I whispered to his blissfully ignorant face. It made me happy that he was blissfully ignorant. He was a baby. He shouldn’t have any cares whatsoever. He should just be cared for, full stop. But what would change when he grew older and had things that bothered him? I’d want him to feel safe enough to come to either his mother or me to talk about anything.
It made me reflect on my own relationship with my parents. The fear I felt growing up when it involved coming to them about things that I knew they wouldn’t approve of. Hiding some of those things from them to avoid their upturned noses would come with so much guilt. I felt like, regardless of my fears, I should have been honest. But the environment never felt safe enough for honesty. My thoughts, if they weren’t favored by my parents, would have been met with such contempt, I’d have felt ashamed for speaking about them.
It was my desire that my kids would feel as if I had their back, no matter what, even if I didn’t approve of certain things. They shouldn’t have to feel as if they were stupid or gross for coming to me about anything. Even if I didn’t approve, I wanted them to know that my disapproval wasn’t because they weren’t loved. My actions should speak louder than my words, and they should feel my love for them rather than just hear me say it.
It was my desire to create for my kids the family I didn’t have. And if they did the most unimaginable, worst thing on the planet, they’d be reprimanded by me, sure. They’d have to face the consequences, one hundred percent. It wouldn’t be love if they were made to feel as if they did nothing wrong when they did. They’d know they did but throughout it all, they should also know deep down that they were loved, and they’d never lose my love. Even if I disapproved of their actions. Even if I supported the consequences they’d have to face.
To be honest, at the moment, that was just an idealistic thought since I was lost on how to ensure they’d always feel that when they were all grown up. Now that they were so young, it was so easy to make them feel loved. However, thinking about the future brought out a deep-rooted fear of failure.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”
The pitter pattering of my daughter’s feet racing through the house interrupted by thoughts. She burst through the back door with a grin on her face. The babysitter just brought her home from school.
