chapter 17

acid tongue

As the week nears its end, leaves are littering the ground and the air has quickly grown colder. I feel the bite at work and wonder what I’ll do when winter comes. We’re almost midway through September and the chill is beginning to become unbearable. I guess my body became accustomed to the hot California weather and doesn’t know how to deal with temperatures below sixty degrees very well. The cold season also brings with it my mother’s birthday. I’ve missed her birthday the last few years and hadn’t even bothered to call while I was in California. I felt bad, but not bad enough to do anything about it. This year I’ll make it up to her by actually showing up. Dad even called me last night to confirm I was still coming. I guess he didn’t really have faith in me to show up. Although, I can’t really blame him.

All week I’ve considered what I should get her for her birthday. Our relationship has always been strained, but now that I’m taking the time to look at my own faults, I wonder if the lack of warmth in our relationship is something which I caused. If anything, we could both be equally to blame for the lack of amity. I wasn’t the model child, and I treated both my parents terribly for so long—so, I can see her problem with me. I’m fuck-up and who honestly wants to admit to parenting that?

After work, I take Grey shopping to find the perfect gift for her. Is it sad that I don’t know how old she’s turning? She never talks about her age, and her multiple cosmetic surgeries make it hard to decipher, but I should at least know how old she was when she gave birth to me. As I walk around the mall with Grey, I feel like I’m shopping for a stranger in many ways. I don’t know what she likes, what her hobbies are, and I don’t even know what her favorite movie is—or if she even has one. No wonder she dislikes me, I don’t know shit about her. I know she likes to hang out with her friends, going to cocktail parties, and having spa days; you know, that girly type of shit. I really don’t want to buy her a gift card to a spa, it seems too weird and impersonal.

My heart is sitting heavy in my chest. The muscles in my jaw are so tense, that when I open my mouth to speak with the saleswoman, my muscles feel like they’re being ripped apart. I stop and rub my jaw, rubbing the knot in my cheek with my thumb in hopes that it’ll disappear. Although, with all the stress in my life recently, I doubt that’ll happen. For some reason, as I shop I can’t help but feel fucking angry. I feel like I’ve been robbed of a mother. She’s been around all my life and I barely know her. It’s like she’s erected this wall between us and I can’t figure out a way to climb over it. She’s so far removed from my life, at times it feels as if she died along with Dean. It’s like all of her love was buried with him and I just can’t understand it.

Feeling defeated, I walk into a jewelry shop and settle on the first necklace I see. It’s sterling silver and has two birds, one big and one small, and it’s not like anything I’d normally buy. I feel almost embarrassed as I purchase it, mainly because I’ve got no idea what her reaction will be. That thought alone is enough to put me on edge. When I add all the other shit to the mix, I almost want to make up an excuse to avoid going. Thank, God Ronnie agreed to accompany me tonight. I’m always so much more at ease with her near. It’s like her presence alone calms flames within me and keeps me from doing something rash.

Fuck, I just want things to run smoothly tonight. I’ve been mentally preparing myself since I woke up this morning because I know how terrible these evenings usually end up being. At least this party will give me a chance to show off my awesome girl. She’s so intelligent and absolutely gorgeous; I know she’ll impress everyone she meets, which will be a good thing considering I won’t impress anyone. As I drive back to my apartment, I try desperately to lighten the fuck up. I don’t want to come across like I have absolutely no self-esteem. Ronnie deserves a strong man at her side and not some insecure asshole. Hearing Grey’s laughter in the back seat of my truck cab as he babbles along to his kids’ music definitely helps my spirits. I pray that by tonight I’ll be in the proper mood. Tonight isn’t just about dealing with the party; I need to get Grey’s records so I can begin the process of filing to for his benefits. I can’t believe my parents didn’t mention the benefits sooner. It seems like a vital piece of information to just overlook. I doubt a mistake like that could be an intentional one. If it were… I shake that idea off before I can dwell on it. I don’t want to believe someone could be working against me like that. Even if it was my mother.

I need to distract myself so, as soon as we return home, I focus all my energy on getting Grey ready. I want him to look his best tonight so my family and friends can see I’m capable of doing something right. I know they’ve had their doubts about me taking care of him, and I know it’s all warranted. I was a complete shithead before this and I know that—but it still stings to see the doubt on their faces.

“Are you going to be good for me, buddy?” I ask Grey as I fill up the tub to give him a bath.

He squeals as he watches the water rise and begins to kick his feet as if he were trying to jump out of my arms and straight into the lukewarm water. I laugh at his enthusiasm and as soon as the bath is a few inches deep, I shut off the water and place him in his bathtub seat. Grey immediately laughs and brings his hands rapidly up and down to splash the water. His eyes widen as the water makes waves and his smile soon becomes infectious; it’s not long before we’re laughing together. The tension in my body begins to dissipate as I watch him cheerfully play in the water. It’s hard to stay stressed for long with so much positivity surrounding me. I sit my ass down on the floor beside the tub and begin to wash his hair to the best of my ability. He wiggles away from me and does everything in his power to make sure he doesn’t get cleaned. As I go to wash his body, he splashes water in my face, then giggles uncontrollably at my shocked expression.

“You think that’s funny, little man?” I ask as I reach down to tickle his chubby, little stomach.

Grey throws his head back in laughter and reaches up for me, always eager for me to hold him. I push him gently back, needing to get him cleaned up for the party tonight. He doesn’t stop and continues to try to stand up while still seated in his bath seat until I give in and pick him up.

“Wait a sec, buddy, Daddy has to wash you.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I stop what I’m doing and let go of him to settle back in his seat. I fall back on my ass and stare at the little boy who’s so eager to be in my arms and wonder what the fuck I think I’m doing. I’m his guardian—his fucking uncle; I’ll never be his father. I can’t fill that role for him. Just thinking it makes me feel as though I’m dishonoring my brother’s memory. However, I should’ve known it would’ve come to this one day. Grey deserves to have a father and my brother is dead. Dean would’ve wanted his son to grow up having parents and not people who were just raising him. How will I tell him his biological parents are dead? Will I tell him while he’s still a kid? If I don’t tell him when he’s old enough to understand, when the fuck should I tell him? Since Dean’s death, I’ve been Grey’s father in every sense of the word; I love him like he’s my child. I wish I could talk to my brother and ask him what I should do. I look up at the ceiling as if he’s going to fly down out of nowhere and give me some advice. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and try to think of what my brother would say to me if he were here. While I don’t hear an audible answer, I believe I know what he’d want, and that’s for Grey to have a dad; even if I will just be a piss-poor substitute for his real one. I’ll love him like he’s my own son and do the best that I can by him.

I test the term out again, “Let Daddy wash your hair, Grey.”

He gives me a big grin that lights up his whole face. He points at me and begins to babble. Finally, he says, “da” and it makes my heart stop. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part. He was babbling on for seconds before he managed to say that, so it could’ve just been a meaningless accident. Whether he meant to call me “da” or not, just visualizing him calling me by that name makes me feel ten feet tall.

“Daddy’s almost done, buddy,” I say, testing it out one more time in hopes that he’ll try saying “da” again.

He babbles incoherently for a moment, before he points again and says “da.” I smile at him for a long time, unable to help the emotions which are running through me. I’ve never felt so fucking full—so incredibly complete. Who knew having a baby would give me this sort of happiness? The old me would’ve been shocked if he realized that being called “da” would be the highlight of his existence.

“I love you so much, Grey.” His eyes twinkle when he looks at me and I wonder if he can understand I’m telling him. Or at least sense my emotion. “Daddy loves you so much.” I reach down to tickle his stomach once more to break up the heaviness in the room.

As soon as I feel he’s as clean as he’s going to get, I pull him out of the tub, wrap him in a towel, and drain the water. He nuzzles his little head against my neck and begins to nod off as I take him to his room to dress him. I take my time getting him ready, making sure he’s perfectly presentable for the party tonight. I find a polo shirt that’s pretty nice—at least I think it is, I don’t know shit about clothes—and a pair of jeans that are easy for him to move around in.

He kicks his legs as I try to slide on his jeans and babbles a bit before pointing and saying, “da.” He giggles and says “da” again before letting me dress him without giving me too much grief. I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I listen to him call me that. Maybe I’m just being too hopeful or just plain ridiculous, but I love to think that Grey sees me as his father. There’s a knock on the door and I know it’s Ronnie—punctual as usual.

“Come on, buddy. Our girl is here.”

Although I put great care into our appearances—Ronnie has outdone us both. As soon as I open the door, she takes my fucking break away. God, she’s gorgeous. She looks sexy, yet, so incredibly sweet in a white cocktail dress. Her purple cardigan covering her shoulders causes her skin to look like cream. I’m so in fucking awe of her; I still can’t believe this girl is mine. I need to ask her to officially be my girlfriend soon because if I don’t snatch her up now, I’m sure someone else will. I’ve never seen a woman who I want to worship as much as I want defile—but that’s Ronnie. Glancing down her cleavage I notice her tits are perky and deliciously full in her dress; I want to do very, very, bad things to her.

“What is it?” she coyly asks, causing me to realize that I’ve been gawking at her for far too long.

“Sorry,” I mutter, running a nervous hand through my messy hair before adding, “You just look incredible tonight.”

She blushes and gives me a smile as she bites down on her plump bottom lip. “You look pretty amazing yourself, Trev. As do you, Greyson,” she coos as she steps forward to tickle his belly. He squeals and reaches for her; she readily takes him. He rests his head on her tits and I can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. What I wouldn’t give to be in that position.

“You ready to go, beautiful?” She gives me a pretty smile and a slight nod as we head for the door. “I thought afterward we could grab dinner somewhere. I wasn’t planning on being at this thing all night.”

“Sounds good, Trev. Whatever you want to do.”

Grey makes a garble of noises, as if he were trying to talk to her. Ronnie is a complete sucker for his baby talk, so she immediately nuzzles his neck before kissing the fuzzy hair atop his head.

“I think he’s got a crush on you,” I tease her as she follows me out to my truck.

“I guess you’d know a lot about what it’s like, wouldn’t you?” she teases right back. “With the way you constantly look at me I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to contain yourself.”

I stop walking to regard her for a moment. She pauses her steps for a second—just long enough to wink at me—before continuing on toward my truck. I can’t help but to burst out into laughter. She’s so funny. I’ve never really known a chick who had a sense of humor. I never knew I liked that in a woman. I reach and gently pull her into my arms, giving her a quick kiss before letting her go. I find that she gives me more than pleasure—she gives me comfort as well.

 

 

The drive across town is too fucking short. We arrive at my parents’ house to find the street littered with cars I don’t recognize leading up to the driveway. It looks like they’ve invited the whole fucking town to this party. I can’t even fathom how they know all these people. I end up having to park on an entirely different street. As we walk toward my parents’ house I wonder if my mom literally invited every person she’s ever fucking met.

I look over at Ronnie—who’s obviously uncomfortable in her heels—and frown. “Fuck, I’m sorry, baby,” I comment as we trudge toward my parent’s home.

“It’s fine,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. She’s never one to complain, she’d rather suffer in silence—just like me. “This is why I never wear high heels.”

“Well, you look beautiful, baby. But you look beautiful in anything you wear.” This is the first time I’ve called her “baby” and she doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, she looks quite content by the way she’s blushing at me. I love calling her that because she is my baby.

Ronnie smiles and grabs my free hand to hold tightly in hers. “I love it when you call me that.”

“‘Baby’? I’ve been wanting to call you my baby for a while now, but I didn’t want you to freak-out on me.”

She laughs at my response and quickly retorts, “I’d never freak-out on you. I like being your anything.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” Feeling confident, I wink at her, enjoying the way this night is going already.

Unfortunately, that enjoyment is short-fucking-lived. As soon as we walk into my parents’ home, I find the party is exactly as I expected it to be. I recognize absolutely no one. Grey’s staring at all the unfamiliar faces in wonder, but as soon as people start to direct their attention at him, he makes a frustrated groan and hides his face in the crook of my neck.

“You ready to meet my parents?” I ask my girl as I spot my dad in the kitchen surrounded by some of his colleagues.

She smiles at me, but I can tell she’s trying desperately to hide her nerves. I don’t know what she has to worry about, it feels like she could accomplish just about anything. I hold her hand as I lead us through the crowd, appreciating the warmth of her palm against mine. I feel everyone’s eyes on us as we part through the masses, but with Ronnie by my side, I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. Their stares range from being curious or dubious, to disbelieving as they watch as I cross the room with a baby in my arms and the hottest woman alive at my side. However, I know they aren’t really staring at the baby nor the woman next to me; they’re staring at me. Covered in tattoos—I look rough in their eyes. In this moment, I realize that no amount of changes I’ve made in my life will alter anyone’s initial perception of me.

When we finally reach my dad, my agitation dissipates, happy he’s talking to someone I recognize. With a beer in hand, he looks more relaxed and happy than I’ve seen him in a very long time. I stare at the ice-cold drink as it sweats in his hand and feel my mouth go dry with want. I lick my lips as I imagine the hoppy taste quenching my thirst. What could one drink hurt? It takes all the power within me to reel myself in and not grab a drink for myself from the bar setup in the kitchen. My strained eyes meet my dad’s gaze, and he gives me an odd look—as if he were trying to decipher what the hell was running through my mind. He knew I liked to party—but I don’t think he realizes the depth of my problems. Hell, I can’t blame him. I’ve never had the balls to tell him about my struggles. The way he sees straight through me, though… It’s obvious he knows now. I give him a small, tight smile and give his colleague a polite wave “hello.”

“Dad, this is my date, Veronica Clark; Ronnie, this is my dad, Arthur Warren.”

Ronnie reaches forward to give my dad a polite handshake. He rewards her an impressed smile as she gives his hand two firm pumps before pulling away.

“So, you’re the beautiful, young lady my son can’t stop talking about.”

“Dad,” I say, sounding pissed and shocked all at the same time. Way to play it fucking cool, Dad. Don’t feel bad about embarrassing me or anything like that. Next, he’ll be telling her all about how I came to him for relationship advice. I turn to Ronnie, who’s blushing at my side, seemingly pleased by my dad’s comment.

“I’m just joking, Trevor. It’s very nice to meet you.” When he notices I’m still glaring at him for practically outing me in his previous comment, he smiles at me and continues, “So, how did you two meet?”

I give him a grateful smile and he winks at me before taking a sip of his beer.

“Well, I saw him around town a few times but I was always way too shy and nervous to approach to him. So, when I saw he moved in next to me, I knew I finally had my chance.”

She wanted to approach me long before we ever spoke? “So, you wanted to talk to me long before you saw me move in?”

Ronnie gives me a small smile and says, “Well, you’re kind of hard not to want, Trev.”

Fuck, I feel like I’ve fallen in love with this girl all over again! I wasn’t sure about my feelings before—mostly because I was too frightened to admit them to myself—but now, as I see her confidently smiling up at me while she informs me she’s been into me for some time—I know I’ve fallen in love with this girl. I’m completely fucking smitten.

“We started talking when Grey was teething and I heard his cries,” Ronnie explains to my dad as I stand quiet at her side—too shocked by the realization of my feelings to contribute to the current conversation. “So, I stopped by and helped out and it progressed from there.”

“Well, that’s great,” Dad responds with an approving look on his face. “Trevor needs a girl like you in his life.”

Ronnie blushes and I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close against my side. My mother enters the room, and all the relaxed energy quickly disappears. She gives me a terse smile before walking towards us. I swear, even when she’s happy and attending an event which should give her some enjoyment, she still finds a way to be overtaxed. Her posture is rigid as she crosses the room. She greets me with a forced smile and doesn’t even bother to acknowledge Ronnie. I can’t help but cringe. Still, I decide to put my feelings aside because I want to at least say I tried with her.

Wanting to put the past behind us, I hand Grey to Ronnie and put my arms around my mother to give her a quick, birthday hug. Our embrace is one-sided, but I’m patient, waiting for her to relax in my arms and hug me in return. I feel dad staring at our interaction, observing us as if we were two strangers. I wonder what we must look like to him—his son hugging his wife’s rigid body without reciprocation. Once reality sinks in and I realize her ice-cold demeanor is unwavering and she’s not going to return my embrace, I pull back to look at her face. I find absolutely nothing. Her expression is blank and her eyes are dead. I look to my dad, who’s staring at me with a look I don’t want to begin to understand. He looks at my mother as if he was seeing her for the very first time and then looks back to me, his features softening slightly before he gives me a smile that is filled with grief.

Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence, I introduce my mother to my girl. She looks dazed as she automatically reaches out to shake Ronnie’s hand. She seems almost traumatized by the hug I gave her.

“Ronnie, this is my mother,” I say weakly.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Ronnie attempts to exchange pleasantries with her—but her endeavor is futile. I’m happy she tried because I know my mother can be fucking intimidating when she’s like this. My dad steps back, excusing himself to grab another beer. This is probably the best opportunity I’ll have tonight to ask him for Grey’s birth certificate and the records I’ll need to file for his benefits.

“Ronnie, do you mind hanging out for a bit? I need to get that stuff from my dad.”

She gives me an encouraging smile and kisses me on the cheek before I follow after my dad. He’s heading to his office, so he must be getting the “good stuff” he keeps stashed away from my mother. I look over my shoulder toward Ronnie, and find her sitting at the kitchen table, playing with Grey on her lap. I notice Mother is completely ignoring her. At least Ronnie’s got our little man to keep her company. I pick up my step and catch-up to my dad before he opens the door to his office.              

“Can—can you wait up for a second? I need to talk to you about something.”

He nods and gives me a tired smile before opening up the door to his home office. I haven’t been inside this room since high school, but it’s exactly as I remembered. It has the same leather furnishings and old pictures of our family lining the walls and covering his desk. I stop and stare at a picture of Dean and me. He must’ve been seven or eight at the time, and I must’ve been in kindergarten. It was taken at a park we used to go to all the time near our old elementary school. Dean had his arm around my shoulders—towering over me at nearly a foot taller. He was so tan back then. In the photo, his dark brown hair was sticking up in all directions from hours of playing after school. I smile as I look at him and reach out to trace his features with my index finger. He looks so much like our mom—with his dark hair and brown eyes—whereas I take after our dad. I always thought he and I looked sort of like him—but now, as I’m studying this picture, I realize we don’t look alike at all. We’re more likes opposites when it comes to our looks. I suppose our personalities were similar; even though I was the fuck-up and he was the star athlete, we both had the same kind heart. I just didn’t show it off quite like he did. We grew up fighting all the time, but we always made up, and he was always my best friend. Fuck, I wish you were here, Brother. A lump develops in my throat and I have to look away before I break-down. Hopefully, one day I’ll be able to remember the happy times without feeling this survivor’s grief.

“That’s my favorite photo of the two of you,” Dad comments as he steps up to stand by my side.

“You used to take us to that park every weekend,” I muse, unable to look away from my brother’s smiling face in the picture. It’s awful looking at his bright, shinning face and knowing he had no idea what the future had in store for him. “I don’t know how you had the patience to watch us like that for hours,” I continue, trying to lighten my mood.

“Well, you guys meant the world to me. Watching you was no trouble. I know you’ll understand when Greyson’s old enough to do that stuff. Sure, it’s stressful at first, but it’s worth it just to see your child happy.”

“I can’t wait for him to get a bit older. I just want him to be able to talk to me.”

“Has he said his first word yet?”

I contemplate whether or not I should tell him that he’s been saying “da” today. Would it hurt my dad the way it had initially hurt me to hear? I decide to tell him a half-truth. “He’s been babbling a lot, but I’m sure he’ll say his first word soon enough. Some of what he garbles on about sound like words—but they also sounds like gibberish.” My dad laughs and gives me a knowing look. “He stood up for the first time, though. So, that’s exciting.”

“Really?” he asks, pride filling his tone due to his grandson’s milestone. “Your mother never mentioned that. Maybe he’s only stood up around you.”

“Maybe,” I agree—although, I know he’s done it for Ronnie, too. “He acts shy sometimes.”

“That’s the way you were when you were a baby. You were shy, but once you warmed up to a person, you were hilarious. You were the happiest baby I’d ever seen.”

I smile, even though the idea of me being a happy baby seems like a foreign one. “I must’ve been really annoying.”

“No, you were wonderful. You were a great kid, Trevor.”

“I know I was a pain in the ass.” At least, that’s what my mother has led me to believe. “Grey’s wonderful, though. Actually, he’s the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

Dad grows serious all of a sudden, and with a concerned look he takes a seat at his desk and gestures for me to sit across from him.

“I just need his birth certificate and whatever records you have on him to apply for benefits. I need the guardianship documents from the will and Dean and Cat’s death certificates, as well. I need to apply for Survivor Benefits for Grey. I’m not entirely sure what he’ll be eligible for because I just found out all about this the other day…” I nervously trail off, not wanting to sound like a complete fucking idiot to my dad.

Dad looks at me for a very long time, his lips morph into a frown and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Trevor?” he finally asks, a hint of anger filling his voice. “How have you not been receiving benefits for Greyson? I thought your mother gave you all that information you needed and helped you file the applications? I told her specifically what she needed to do and she told me she went over it with you. I would’ve helped you out myself, but I’ve been really busy at work as of late. I guess I should’ve been keeping track of this. However, she told me you filed and were already approved for full benefits.” Dad’s voice grew louder with each word, and by the time his explanation is finished—he’s practically fuming.

“She never spoke to me about it, Dad,” I quickly defend myself. “I never even knew about any of this shit until my therapist brought it up to me the other day.”

“I’ll have to have a word with your mother then,” Dad says quietly. I learned early on to fear my father when he’s quiet. He’s not one to lose control or make a scene, but when he’s angry, his voice becomes dangerously soft and his stare can cut through you like a knife. Luckily, it appears his anger isn’t directed at me. “File for the benefits as soon as you can, Trevor.” He stands up from his seat and runs an agitated hand through his hair. He walks over to a family portrait which is hanging on the wall. He removes it and opens the wall safe. I never knew that safe was there. He retrieves a file—which I assume is the paperwork I need. “You must excuse me. I need to have a word with your mother.” He gives me a tight, apologetic smile before briskly walking out of the room.

After my dad leaves, I look over the documents from the file. When I see Dean’s death certificate, my hearts drops and my lungs constrict. Unconsciously, I rise from my seat. I feel myself move toward the door—but I’m too far gone to gain a semblance of control over my own body. I end up in front of the picture of Dean and me that I was looking at earlier. We were young; we were happy; we were so carefree. It’s strange to look at a picture of someone who is now long gone. I stare at his contented face with the sickening feeling that he had no idea how short his life would be. That little boy didn’t know he would grow up, have his dream family, and then would tragically meet his end. I’m surprised to feel wetness on my cheeks; I was so lost in thought, I didn’t even know I was fucking crying. I leave the office, unable to stand being surrounded by these memories a moment longer.

 I’m in a daze as I walk down the vacant hallway—my mind still filled with thoughts of my brother. The sound of my dad’s voice coming from the end of the hall brings me back to reality. He’s yelling. I’ve never heard him yell like this before. I hear my mother’s voice, as well, sounding defensive. I follow their voices, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“Evelyn, how could you do that to him? How could you do that to that your own grandson? What the fuck were you thinking?”

I’ve never heard my father curse.

“It must have slipped my mind. I’ll make it right, I promise. You know how much I love them.” Her voice sounds so artificially sweet. “Let’s not fight. Not tonight. There’s a party going on downstairs and everyone we know is here.”              

Dad’s silent for a long time. I can imagine him standing utterly speechless, contemplating what to do next.              

“Arthur? What is it?” I hear my mother ask.

“You’re beautiful,” he says in what sounds to be resignation, “and you’ve always been so determined. Even when it comes to doing something so utterly vindictive. But you’re not strong, Evelyn, and I don’t know if you’re ever really caring.”              

“What are you talking about, Arthur?” I hear my mother ask, sounding frustrated.

“Do you love me, Evelyn? Do you really love me? I’ve given up so much for you, for our family.” There’s a pregnant pause. “I’ve given up so much and you act like this. So, I just need to know if you really love me. If you’ve ever loved me.”

“I feel the same way I’ve always felt about you.”

A bitter laugh escapes my dad. “Everything would’ve been all right if Dean hadn’t died. You can’t handle the mess that comes with losing a child. You can’t even pull yourself together to hold onto the son we have left. When Dean died, it’s like the best part of you died with him… and I just don’t understand it, Evelyn. I’ve helped you in every way I know how. I’ve grieved with you. I’ve watched you turn your back on Trevor. I don’t know what you expect me to do now.”

“Arthur—” she begins, cut off by her own sob.

“Let me think about this, Evelyn. Just give me time to think. If you really withheld those documents because you were feeling malicious…  I don’t know what you want from me. I just can’t look at you the same way knowing you would do that to, Trevor—to Greyson!”

“Trevor!” she spits out bitterly. “He’s all you talk about. All you care about!”

“He’s my son,” Dad answers with finality.

“He’s been tearing us apart from the very beginning,” she shoots back. “Can’t you see that? Are you really so blind?”

I can’t listen to this anymore. I don’t want to know how my mother feels about me, even though part of me has known all along. I’d rather be ignorant than have to feel the pain the truth will most surely bring.