Every Way

But all I did was continue to stare at her as she slowly backed into my father’s arms.

“It’s not a threat,” I said. “It’s merely a statement of the consequences you will incur because of your actions. What you’ve done was wrong, plain and simple.”

“Dorothy, answer the boy,” my father said.

“I am not answering him when he’s like this. He’s scaring me,” my mother said.

“All right, Dorothy. I am through with this,” my father said.

“What?” my mother asked.

I watched my father step out from behind my mother as she whipped around toward him.

“Michael, what are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m demanding you tell the truth. What is our son talking about?” he asked.

“He’s putting random pieces together! Making up things in his mind!”

“You know that’s not true,” I said.

I watched as my father slowly walked around toward me. My mother’s eyes followed him, heated with anger and frustration and shock. For the first time in my life, I watched my father stand up to my mother. I watched him take someone else’s side but hers. My eyes connected with him, and I could see the sorrow behind them. Years of apologies he wanted to give but couldn’t.

“I know, Dad. It’s okay,” I said.

“You know what?” my mother asked.

“That Dad is sorry for all the times he should’ve done this before but didn’t,” I said.

“Tell the truth, Dorothy,” my father said.

“There is no truth to tell,” my mother said.

“Tell the truth, or I choose. And I promise you that I will choose a relationship with my grandchild over a relationship with the shell of a human being you’ve become,” my father said.

“What?” my mother asked.

I sighed as my mother’s gaze fluttered back over to mine. I could see her cracking. I could see her slipping. I could see the truth dancing just behind her lips.

All she had to do was open her fucking mouth and say it.

“Fine,” my mother said. “Yes, I did it.”

“Did what?” I asked.

“I tracked down Laura Green and talked her through some of the things happening in your life. It started out as a simple lunch conversation, a way to vent to someone who truly cared for you at one point. She asked me if there was anything she could do to help, so I gave her something to do,” my mother said.

“Tell me what you did,” I said.

“It’s obvious you already know,” she said.

“Well, I don’t,” my father said. “So spit it out, Dorothy.”

My mother was seething as her eyes flared with fire and brimstone.

“I told Laura where Hailey’s gallery was and figured Laura could pay her a little visit. Just to talk to Hailey and figure out where her head was. Bryan deserves a certain caliber of woman, and I figured Hailey could use an example of the kind. It was to help Hailey, and it was for your own good too.”

“You did what?” my father asked.

“Are you aware of what you’ve done?” I asked.

“I helped my son. Where is the harm in that?” she asked.

“Hailey and I spent that entire night fighting over whether or not I was cheating on her. You didn’t fix anything. What you did was eventually bring us closer, but in the process, you put Hailey and your grandchild through an emotional ringer. Laura came into that gallery preaching about how she could treat me better than her. How Hailey needed to lose weight, Mom.”

“What?” my father asked.

“Well, she has put on a few unnecessary pounds,” my mother said.

“Have you forgotten the eighty pounds you put on when you were pregnant with John?” my father asked. “All the ridicule you took from your so-called friends? And you willingly put another woman through that pain?”

“Eighty pounds? Impressive, Mom,” I said.

“I did it for your own good. Hailey is no good for you, and you know it,” my mother said.

“Hailey has her faults, but there’s no need to pick at the splinter in her eye when you’ve got a Viking boat protruding from yours,” I said.

“I will not have you speaking to me that way in my own home.”

“Can it, Dorothy. I’ve had enough of you and this person you’ve turned into,” my father said.

“I’m going to keep my voice as steady as I can while I tell you this, because I’m only going to say it once,” I said. “Money morphed you into a selfish woman, but John’s death plunged you into a depression. And now that you know he was murdered, there’s no one to blame and no one alive to pay for what happened. And you’ve allowed this anger and emptiness to fester. You’ve turned into a demon, Mom, and I won’t have someone like that around my family.”

“You will not take that grand—”

“Listen to me!” I roared.

My mother jumped, and I could feel my father’s eyes widen.

“You are not the woman I loved as a child. You are not the woman I confided in as a teenager. And you are not the grandmother I want around my child. You are to no longer have any contact with us. What you did with Laura was unforgivable. I almost lost the family I created because of your antics. You want to know why Laura and I ended things? Because she didn’t like the fact that I wanted to start my own business. She thought I was boring, and it was her loss. You have no control over this situation. You never did, and you need to start dealing with that. So, until you do and until you can apologize to my wife and the mother of my child, you don’t exist.”

“Now you’re just overreacting. You get that from your fath—”

“Enough, Dorothy. This has gone on long enough,” my father said.

“Can’t I at least get a sent—”

“No,” I said. “You can’t.”

“I’m disgusting and ashamed of your behavior,” my father said. “This woman you’re trying to manipulate and carve out of Bryan’s life is pregnant with our grandchild. She’s the one who helped John when we didn’t step up to help. She’s the one who saved him from his addictions when we were chastising him for them. She was the one rehabilitating him while we were acting like he didn’t exist!”

“We did the best we could, Michael,” my mother said.

“We stood by and did nothing,” my father said. “But Hailey? She did everything. And if you’re uncomfortable being around her because of your guilt, then that’s on you. I suggest you get some professional help to work through it.”

“I’m not crazy,” my mother said.

“Yes. You are,” I said.

“Bryan, if you will still allow it, I would really enjoy a relationship with my grandchild,” my father said.

“Hailey was really looking forward to you coming over and talking about the European tour. I know she’d like it if you still came over to talk,” I said.

“You’re not going over to that house,” my mother said.

“I’m tired of listening to you talk,” my father said. “Deal with your anger and your guilt. Otherwise, you’ll lose the family you claim to be trying to save.”

I watched my mother as she crumbled down into the couch. Her head turned toward the wall as an eerie silence fell over the entire house. I could smell dinner beginning to permeate the house as my mouth began to water. I was ready to get home and eat. I was ready to get home and wrap my arm around Hailey.

I was ready to be done with this catastrophe once and for all.

“I’ve been horrible,” my mother said.

“What was that?” I asked.

She turned her eyes toward me and tears were glistening in her eyes. I was taken aback by the sight. I looked at my father whose eyes were trained on his wife, and I watched him soften instantly. And I couldn’t blame him. It killed me whenever Hailey cried. But this was rare, even for my mother. I had only ever seen her tear up once, and that was the night they got the phone call that John had died in a hospital in Los Angeles.

But for the first time, I was watching those glistening tears fall onto her cheeks.

Part of me thought this was a ploy, but the rest of me knew it couldn’t be. Her eyes were red, and her hands were shaking. Her cheeks were turning red and flushing with emotion. Her breathing was growing shallow, and her shoulders were starting to shake.

All involuntary signs of the fact that someone was genuinely crying.

“Dorothy,” my father said as he sat down beside her. “Talk to us.”

“Every time I look at her, I’m reminded of what I should’ve done,” my mother said. “Every time she turns toward me, it reminds me that John would still be here if I had done better.”

My father pulled her into his arms as I stood there, rooted to my spot. I listened as my mother sobbed into my father’s chest, her body quivering and her hands gripping his shirt. I’d never seen my mother so vulnerable before. So weak and open for the rest of us to see.

“Every time I’m around her, she reminds me of him, and I can’t handle it. I can’t take it. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You need help, Mom, help none of us can give you,” I said.

“Please don’t take that grandbaby from me. It’s—”