I honestly didn’t know. It was possible that I would’ve felt comfortable enough letting my father see me naked. It was also possible that in forcing Mason out, my mother had made us mysteries to one another, and mysteries needed solving.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’m here now, and I feel good about it.”
My mother’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Every decision I have made was for your protection. I took you far away from the only home I’d ever known. I gave you another man’s name. I became a single parent overnight, and I never asked for one cent of Mason’s money. Now, I’m not asking for gratitude, but could you at least respect my sacrifice?”
“You forced my father out of my life based on a hunch and threatened to use his own art against him. I’m fucking devastated for you, Mom. I really am. But it sounds to me like Mason made the bigger sacrifice.”
My mother flinched as though my words had physically hurt her. A small part of me was glad. I blamed her for separating me from my father, and then I felt awful for blaming her, and then I didn’t know what to feel, so I felt nothing and then everything.
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Can’t you see that he’s just using you to punish me? That painting is a slap in the face. My face.”
I scoffed. How typical that she would try to make his painting of me about them, as if our relationship was merely an offshoot of something they’d started. “That doesn’t make any sense. You weren’t even supposed to see it.”
“Jett, wake up! Of course I’m supposed to see it. Everyone is going to see it. Shining a light on things that should be private is what Mason does.”
I needed to step back, to reclaim some space, to remind myself that I wasn’t as trapped as I felt and that I still had a choice. To believe her or not. To remain here, in this room, or not.
“You won’t understand,” my mother said. “Not until you have children of your own. Not until you have to look into the face of the man you love and ask yourself if he’s really a monster.”
I stared her down. “Mason is nothing like your father. He loves me. We love each other. He would never hurt me. You’re wrong about him now, just like you were wrong about him back then.”
“For your sake, Jett, I hope I’m wrong.” Her bottom lip trembled. She leaned forward, as if gazing deeper into my eyes might help her see the truth more clearly. “If it’s not too late, if he hasn’t already fucked you, do yourself a favor and get out while you still can. Because once you cross that line, it changes you. There’s no going back.”
I’d never seen my mother cry more than a few solitary tears before tonight. Now it was as though the floodgates had opened, allowing a rare, unguarded glimpse at a person I’d spent my whole life struggling to know. I saw the defenseless child and the hardened, distrustful teen, the overprotective mother burnt by the past and terrified of the future.
She stood before me vulnerable and exposed, as she must have the day she’d told her own mother what her father had done—the moment her mother had chosen to side with a monster against her own child.
“I had hoped to bring you home tonight,” she said. “But I see now that you have no intention of letting me help you out of this situation.”
I pushed past the twinge of revulsion and frustration corkscrewing through my belly. “Because I don’t need help, Mom. I’m okay.”
She shouldered her purse, took one last plaintive look at me and said, “Take care of yourself, Jett, since you obviously have no interest in letting me take care of you anymore.”
Chapter Fifteen
I watched my mother leave and then sat on the futon with my head in my hands and my heart in my throat. Another wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a flood of pity. Pity for my mother and everything she had gone through, and for the havoc her decisions had wrought upon the lives of those closest to her.
My father hadn’t wanted to leave me. It was my mother who’d pushed him out. Because she wanted to keep me safe from the shadow of the man who had hurt her.
Of all the potential reasons behind Mason’s abandonment, I had never considered anything like this. I felt wrung out like a rag, limp and useless. I wanted to wrap myself around him and let the strength of his body support me. I wanted to press my ear to his chest and listen to his heartbeat. The slow, dependable throb I’d come to rely on to lull me to sleep.
I rinsed my mouth again and took a moment to dry my eyes before returning to the apartment. Mason stood at the kitchen sink, staring into the drain as though hypnotized. I approached him slowly.
“Mom told me who my real father is,” I said. He closed his eyes. “She says she was raped by her father... My grandfather.”
Mason let out a long breath as he reached for me. I let him pull me close.
“I’m so sorry, Jetty.” He cradled my head in his big, warm hand. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”
“Did you know?”
His body tensed in the seconds before his reply. “Not for sure. But there weren’t a lot of men in your mother’s life at the time, which left only a few possibilities.”
My eyes burned with tears. I’d thought I was done crying; apparently, I was mistaken. I clung to him like a small child as he lifted me up and sat me down on the kitchen counter.
“None of this changes who you are, Jetty.” He kissed my trembling lips. “You’re your own person, and you’re a good person. What that evil man did has no bearing on who you are now.”
I desperately wanted to believe that.