When I walk into my building, Carl isn’t at his desk and my dress shoes echo sharp footsteps all the way to the elevator. I tap my feet, waiting for it to come while staring at the numbers. It was on my floor so that means Jason’s there now.

Over the past five weeks, Hannah and I have achieved a sort of schedule. I read to her most nights before bed. We have dinner two or three times a week at a family member’s home, joined by whoever’s available. If we’re at Jake’s, Jaxson and Rachel might come down from their ranch, etc.

No matter where we are, if Jeremy comes he brings his Rottweiler, Aslan. Hannah loves that dog with a vengeance. Drew was scared of having him around Emma and Ethan at first, but Jeremy worked with dogs in the Marines and he educated us all about this particular breed: they’re protective of women and children. Aslan has proved my brother’s knowledge accurate.

I’ve kept it together when I’m with Hannah, but my family can see right through me and have called me out more times than I care to think about. So as the elevator doors open and I see my mother waiting outside my front door, I groan, “Oh no way. Did Jason do this? Did he call you?”

“Justin, let me inside.”

I freeze because I’ve never heard Nancy Cocker use that tone. Ever.

Snapping the correct key out from the ring, I slam it into the lock and mutter, “Can’t wait for this.”

She stomps in behind me and slams the door. I flip around and see daggers in her eyes. “We are going to talk and we are going to talk right now!”

Blinking in shock, I ask, “Mom, you okay?”

“No, I am not okay. I am watching two of my boys hanging by threads and I can’t do it anymore. Now I can’t help Jeremy because I don’t know how. But you! You’re just a stubborn fool. You I can deal with!”

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need you—”

“—I know I did this to you and I’m going to undo it!”

Huffing, I pace the room.

“You haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I am your mother. And a mother’s children pattern their relationships after their parents. So what was it? Was it that I didn’t work? Do you think I lived off your father? Are you afraid of gold diggers?”

“What? No. You weren’t a gold digger. You were a housewife. And Dad wasn’t there all the time. If we didn’t have you… Mom, I can spot a gold digger five miles away! Jaimie’s not hurting for cash. It’s not that!”

“Is it you don’t respect housewives?”

“There’s no way she’d be a housewife. She likes her job.”

“Then why are you so against settling down?”

My arms fly up. “Why do I have to?”

Her voice softens as she comes to me with imploring eyes. “Justin, you said all you needed in life was to become a Senator and help people and that would make you happy. You said being a father to Hannah would make you happy. But honey, you have those things now! Are you happy?”

That heavy pain hits my chest again and I turn away from her, rubbing my eyes. “NO.”

“Why not?”

“I want Jaimie.”

Mom places a soothing hand on my back. “Does she not want you?”

Groaning, I turn to the one person I can’t tell the reason why I won’t get married. “Mom, I don’t believe in marriage. I just don’t. Please drop it. I’m begging you.”

Frowning with complete lack of comprehension she asks, “Why don’t you believe in it?”

“Because it’s not real. People do whatever they want. They give those vows and then they don’t keep them.”

“Are you afraid you wouldn’t be faithful?”

“I know I’d be faithful. It’s why I haven’t settled down!”

Mom searches my eyes. “Then why are you worried? You think women are unfaithful?”

“I just don’t trust it, okay?”

“You?”

“Marriage!”

“Justin, I don’t understand!”

Gently grabbing her head I kiss my Mom’s forehead and rasp, “I know. It’s okay.”

I head to the kitchen for some water but freeze as I hear Mom whisper, “You know, don’t you?”

I cock my head and look at her from the corner of narrowed eyes. “Know what?”

“That your father cheated on me.”

My jaw drops as the room starts to spin so fast I have to hold onto a wall. “Mom, you knew?”

In the tone reserved only for the spouses of cheaters she says, “Of course I knew. It went on for so long, do you think I’m blind?”

“How are you smiling right now?” I stagger to her. “How can you be smiling?”

“Am I? I don’t know why. I’m not happy about it. Maybe because it’s a relief to say it aloud. Do you have some wine?”

I nod, frowning deeply and thrown beyond compare. I open a bottle of white wine because that’s the only kind she likes. She stares out at Atlanta, slowly joining me in the kitchen and sitting on a barstool by the island while I stand.

“Justin, how did you find out?”

“Uh, wow, this is really hard to talk about.” Pausing I see she really wants to know. So I struggle to find the courage, after all these years, to share what I’ve never told anyone. “One day I heard Dad talking on the phone when I was a kid. I thought he was talking to you because of the things he was saying, but then when I went in the kitchen, there you were. Another time I followed him when the Sawyers came over for dinner and he and Ellen were talking about things I knew, by that age, were intimate. I was only seven or something, but kids talk at school.”

She had been staring at her hands but as soon as I finish she looks up. “Oh,” Mom whispers.

Now I feel terrible.

“Are you okay hearing this, Mom? I would never want to hurt you.”

“It’s just a secret I’ve kept for so long, but I want to talk. Especially if it will help.”

Pouring us both a glass, I eye her. “I also spoke to a golfing buddy of his. A doctor who can’t hold his liquor. He thought I was Jaxson and asked me how things were. I played along — even though I look nothing like Jaxson. He just knew I was a Cocker boy. The guy needs glasses. He shared some things with me that were…well, not good.”

Truth is, I don’t know how much to say.

It’s really Jaxson’s story to tell.

I’ve never told him I knew.

Mom’s lips tighten. “Your father and I have never been closer than we are right now. Things didn’t start up with her again.”

“Does he know you know?”

“He has no idea.”

“Why!?”

Mom drinks her wine in thought and then brings the glass to her lap, staring off as she tells me in the softest voice, “I was very young when Michael and I married. He chose me because I was from a good family who was high society. Those things mattered back then. And he loved me, in a boy’s way. But he was wild and cocky.” She smiles to herself. “You boys inherited your father’s rebellious side. It’s why I always hoped for a girl.” Glancing to her glass, she says, “Anyway, I wasn’t good in the bedroom.”

“Mom! That’s no excuse.”

She touches my hand and holds my eyes. “Justin, you don’t understand. And maybe it’s hard for you to hear because I’m your mother, so this subject may seem strange, but I was brought up very religiously. Your grandmother Lucy was, well today they would call how she raised us, abusive. She shamed me about my looks and called me a slut when I started to develop. I was nothing of the sort, but she continued whispering such things to me until I felt so detached from my own body and disgusted with its cravings. I was feeling things that mentally I thought were evil. That’s what she made me believe they were. When your father touched me, I cringed. I cried most times. My body didn’t respond to his. I made him feel terrible. And so he found someone who was more like him. And the affair began.”

When you’re a kid your grandmother seems like a saint. Grandma May, Grams, Dad’s mom, who is still alive, is one. I’m sure of it. She’s hilarious and witty and I know she never instilled fucked-up thoughts in Dad’s young head.

“Grandma Lucy did that to you?”

Mom nods, smiling with sadness but healed acceptance. “Yes.”

“So, what happened? I don’t understand why you didn’t leave Dad. Or tell him you know.”

“I loved your father so much, Justin. Although I was afraid of the bedroom, I admired everything about him. I stayed by him because I didn’t want to leave. And after a while I couldn’t take it anymore, his going elsewhere for affection, so I went to one of the priests at our church. Do you remember Father Matthew?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“When I was a young woman, therapists weren’t as accepted by society as they are now. We went to priests, and he was very kind to me. He listened and told me that I shouldn’t be ashamed. That sex between a man and woman who love each other is meant to be blessed with making love to one another and enjoying it. That it wasn’t evil. He said the urges I felt as a girl were natural and that my mother was wrong in what she’d taught me. He said to give myself forgiveness and compassion for being so afraid. And then he asked me, Do you love him, Nancy? And of course I said yes, because I worshipped Michael. He then asked me, Do you believe he loves you?”

Mom pauses, tears in her eyes.

“You okay? You want to stop talking?”

“I’m sorry, I’ve never talked about this with anyone. I’m getting a little emotional.”

“Mom, it’s alright. Here.” Reaching over I open a drawer where I’ve stored tissues. I learned from the time Jaimie told me not to use paper towels on Hannah’s nose, so now they’re stored everywhere around the penthouse.

“Thank you,” she smiles, taking them and dabbing her eyes. “I looked into my heart and I said, Yes, Father Matthew. I believe he does love me. And that day everything changed for me. I went to a store and bought a sexy teddy.”

“Mom,” I chuckle, covering my eyes to get the image out of my head.

“And I waited until after dinner was over and you boys went to bed. I put Jeremy down in his crib, got into that tiny thing and went into your father’s office. You should have seen his face.”

“Are you telling me you turned into a sexpot overnight?”

She bursts into laughter. “Oh no! Can you imagine? No. I did not. In fact, I cried that night, just like so many others. But for a different reason. I was impatient with myself. I was so tired of being me.” She quiets. “But afterward, I told Michael how much I wanted to love him like he needed to be loved. How I wanted to hold him and kiss him in all the places he wanted. And that I needed him to be patient with me. Because I wanted to try. He stared into my eyes and there were tears in his. It was the first time I saw him cry since Jett was born. Things shifted between us. The Sawyers moved to New York. I believe he asked her to go, but I’m not sure. I just know their move was only a month after I declared how much I loved him.” She touches my hand again. “Justin, I’ve never told him I know because your father has been such a good husband to me ever since. If it had continued, I would have left. But it didn’t and he’s worked so hard to be good to me. He was so patient as I worked though my shame and opened up to him. He’s become my best friend! I don’t want to punish him for being young. I just want to love him now that he’s all mine.”

“This is a lot to soak in.”

“Do you still feel the same way about marriage?”

Staring at her, I admit, “I don’t know.”

“What’s confusing you?”

“All of it!”

She brings her glass to her lips with a smile. “Well, I can’t blame you for that sentiment.” Sipping she considers what next she should say. “Do you think people are perfect?”

“No.”

“That everything is black and white? That if someone makes a mistake, you should walk away forever?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s why there are so many divorces. People give up. Give me a little bit more wine.”

I pour and stop when she motions it’s enough. “I don’t think he should have cheated.”

“Because he’s your father, or because he should have stayed loyal to a woman who cringed underneath him? Would you have stayed loyal to such a woman?”

“I would have stayed.”

“He stayed.”

“I would have…”

“Justin I know you’re a fan of sexual activities.”

A laugh escapes me and I admit, “I am.”

“Can you imagine being married to a wife who hated them? Where, for years, she cried when you touched her?”

My lips go thin. “I’d probably get divorced.”

“Michael didn’t do that, honey. He chose me. You’ve seen our bond. I don’t know another married couple as close as Michael and I are. It’s because we chose to stay, and we did the work. And by the way our sex life is outstanding.”

“Mom!” I laugh.

“It is. It’s very hot. And thank God for Viagra.”

“Oh Jesus, okay. We’re done.”

“What?” she exclaims, holding up her glass. “I can talk about the bad sex but not the good? Why are people so puritanical about making love? What was wrong with my mother, I want to know! It’s crazy how weird everyone is about it in America. Oh sure, let’s watch violence and blood and gore but show a penis or a vagina and everyone loses their minds. It’s part of life! We have great sex! Your father is amazing and I’m not so bad myself.”

We clink our glasses together, feeling like I might have taken acid by accident when I woke up. “To Father Matthew freeing my mom.”

Nancy Cocker whispers, “Amen to that,” sipping with a smile.