Rewriting History

“Mel seems nice,” she offers.

“Mel is probably the only person in my family—apart from Mom—who I do genuinely get along with.” I shrug. “I’m not sure why. I don’t think Leisel and Jules ever understood the complexity of my relationship with Dad, but Mel was just young enough to see glimpses of the man I grew up with.”

“Do you wish you’d sorted things out with him before . . .” Her voice trails off and I nod.

“I do. I don’t think our relationship would ever have been normal, but I do regret not resolving things with him before he died.” I glance at her, brushing her hair away from her eyes as she smiles at me. “How are things with your mom?”

She bites her lip, her nose scrunching up.

I laugh. “That good, huh?”

“I’m trying. I really am.” She sighs. “I don’t know. I’ll forgive her. I love her, and I know she regrets what she did, but I think I just need time to be able to fully move on. Is that selfish of me?”

I shake my head. “Not in the least.”

She smiles and rests her head on my chest as I run my fingers over the arch of her back.

Chapter Thirty

Jill

The next morning, I get up early and go for a run. I need to clear my head and think about things. I know Eli is right: I need to find a way to move on and forgive her.

As I walk into the house, I hear Dad’s booming laugh. Both he and Mom are sitting out back in the sun. Dad says something to Mom before laughing again. My heart twinges. This is how I always remembered them before. How can he have forgiven her when I can barely stand to look at her? Am I being that unreasonable? I almost resent Dad for being able to move on so quickly.

I used to dream of a carefree marriage just like theirs. Then, when Eli came along, I imagined it with him. I never would have thought Mom was capable of what she did, and it makes me wonder. Would one of us cheat on the other? We are so in love now that I can’t ever imagine that happening. But I would have said the same thing about my parents. That’s the problem with relationships: you never really know. Anything can happen in the future. People change. Circumstances change.

I jump as loud screams fill the house. It takes me a second to realize where they are coming from. I race out the back door to find a short, thin lady with a head full of red hair marching up the driveway toward my mother, with Jamie chasing behind her. I assume this is Jamie’s mom. I’ve seen her briefly, but not up close. She’s quite a beautiful woman but by the wrath on her face, she’s not so beautiful right now.

Opening the side gate and letting herself into our backyard, she roars, “You fucking slut.”

I stand there, gaping, as she lunges for Mom. Dad and Jamie move quickly and pull back both women before Jamie’s mom has a chance to hurt mine. As much as I’d say she deserves this woman’s anger, I don’t have it in me to enjoy watching my mom be abused.

“How the fuck could you?” she screams. “You’re a home-wrecker.”

“Hey, calm down,” Dad orders, his voice stern as he stands in front of her, protecting Mom. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Talk? You want to talk? I hate that bitch for what she’s done.” Jamie’s mom screams before falling to the ground in tears. She turns and wraps her arms around her son, sobbing loudly.

Dad picks up Mom and carries her into the house without looking back. I stand there and wait until Jamie and his mom leave, unsure of what to do. After a moment, I turn and follow my parents into the confines of our house. Mom is sitting on the couch crying into Dad’s shoulder. She’s shaking like a leaf on a windy day and apologizing to Dad over and over. For the first time in weeks, I actually feel sorry for her.

Patting her hair, he kisses the top of her head. “Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetie.”

I don’t know what to do so I just sit on the opposite couch. My presence is probably not needed but I don’t want Mom to be alone. She needs to know that even though I’m angry with her, she’s still my mom and I do love her.

“Dad.”

I’m lying on the couch watching the news with my feet in his lap. Mom ended up falling asleep in his arms, so he carried her to bed. He massages my feet as the reporter announces another mass shooting. I feel like a little kid again, and I long for him to protect me from everything bad in life.

“Yes, sweetheart.” His eyes are glued to the screen.

“Are you and Mom going to be okay?” I ask, my voice small.

“I love your mother more than anything. We’ll make it work, baby.”

“How can you forgive her so easily?” I ask.

“Because she made a mistake.” His eyes are sad. “What she did hurt me, but she’s sacrificed so much for me over the years. I didn’t realize how much I took advantage of that. I’m going to transfer to work in the Army Guard here.”