by Lilly Wilde
I scribble his order on my pad.
“Do I need to repeat that? You know… to make sure you got it right this time?”
I look up to see him grinning at me. Yes, he’s doing this again—having fun at my expense. My eyes drift back to the door and I shake my head at the happy-go-lucky girl walking toward me. She stops in her tracks when she notices Branch. Her eyes widen and dart back to me.
“Is she a friend of yours?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Ask her to come over.”
“Why? Because in a matter of a second, she’s already given you more of the reaction you like?”
“I’d like to meet her.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s pretend I’m a good waitress. Bright, perky, friendly, displaying the right amount of boobage… you know, the type who cares about her appearance. And let’s say I take your order and surprise, surprise I get it one hundred percent accurate. You eat your meal. You leave a decent tip this time, and then we both go about our day. How about that?”
He rears back. An amused smile traces his lips.
“So instead of arranging your meet and greet, I’ll focus all my brain cells on getting your order right. Don’t want you disappointed two days in a row.” I turn to leave but stop short. “And if you want to meet my friend, try waving her over yourself.”
January 22, 2017
I SPEND THE DAYS AND most of the nights inside my head. The quiet storm brewing. My mind connecting dots and erasing lines. My emotions ranging from anger and sadness to regret and confusion. My identity shaken.
Who the fuck am I if not the protector of Mary and Jace? If not the fatherless son who’s spent a lifetime building walls and suppressing emotions. If not the player who doesn’t want for anything beyond status, a payday, and a warm body whenever the mood strikes? And then, as if on a loop, I cycle through it all over again.
Dad’s story has shaken the very foundation of who I am. Of the man I’ve become. Of the asshole who rides shotgun with the prodigal son. I wonder who I would’ve been. Who I could have become with both parents—as fucked up as they may be—in my life.
And then I ask the question that’s on repeat. What has Mama done?
And an even better question…
Why?
The drive home is quiet.
Today’s my first time seeing or speaking to Mama since before the game… since my talk with Dad. And that’s a good thing because I’ve been fighting my way through a whirlwind of emotions, none of them good.
“Branch, is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” I reply, staring straight ahead. “So the nurse will be working full-time at the house.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, all right, but I don’t think that’s necessary. I haven’t felt this good in years. But if you think it’s best…”
No argument? Shocker.
“Well, is it Deidra?” she asks, the anticipation audible in her voice. “You know… the one I told you I liked?”
“No.”
Mama falls quiet, and just as my mind settles into the silence, she says, “Don’t tell me it’s that Christina.”
“Fine. I won’t tell you then.”
“But I told you—”
“She’s familiar with your case and she already knows us.”
“Yes, but—”
“She stays, Mama.” I don’t know if I went against her wishes because of the logic or because I wanted to punish her. Something tells me it’s the latter.
“What’s gotten into you, Branch? So cold and unyielding. You only behave this way when I’ve done something you don’t approve of, but I’ve been good. Taking my meds without being coerced. Been nice to that know-it-all Dr. Blake and all of the hospital staff.”
“That’s acceptable and expected behavior, but as usual, you sound as though it’s something that should be applauded.”
I unlock the door and we step into the house.
Mama draws a breath and exhales. “Feels good to be home.” When she turns and notices I haven’t moved, her smile fades. “I may be a little off-kilter, but I know my son. Something’s not right with you. What’s going on?”
I wasn’t planning to do this now, but since she asked… “All those years ago, why were you so opposed to my seeing Dad? Even now… why?”
Her gaze flicks over my face, and I catch the panic in her eyes. “You know why. You’ve always known why.”
“Tell me again.”
“Branch, I just walked through the door. I haven’t seen Jace, and you’ve barely said one word to me. I want to catch up with my boys. Enjoy you for the time I have you. Why would I want to ruin my homecoming talking about a man who’s wronged this family?”
“See, that’s just it.” I tilt my head to the side, my eyes narrowing as I study her reaction. “I don’t think he’s the one who wronged this family. I think it was you.”
“Me?” Her eyes widen in shock and disbelief. “I’m the parent who didn’t leave, remember?”
“Okay, let’s start there. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did Dad leave?”
“You were here. You saw how things were.”
“And why were they like that? What was your part in it?”
Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “Couples fight. Your father and I were no different.”
When we hear a sound at the door, we turn, watching as it swings open. “Mama! You’re home.” Jace, clad in a soiled uniform, rushes toward us, bypassing me and going straight to Mama.
She pulls him into a hug. “Yep, I’m back.”
“And you’re all better?” he asks.
Mama throws a cautious glance toward me and says, “I sure am. So what have you been up to since I’ve been gone?”
“It’s been a lot of fun. Branch took me fishing. We watched movies in the game room with Cory, Drake, and Sam. He’s helped the coaches on my team and he even made homework fun. He’s the best big brother.”
“Yes, he is. He’s a pretty great son, too. Just like you,” she says and tousles his hair.
Jace turns toward me. “We should celebrate Mama coming home. Don’t you think?”
“Uh… yeah, sure, little bro. Why don’t you get cleaned up and we can all go out for dinner?”
When Jace leaves the room, I step closer to Mama and offer a warning. “You have tonight. But tomorrow, we will talk and you will answer my questions.”
Mama and I sit on the backyard patio, the wind chimes filling the intermittent silence. I’ve asked question after question about Dad, only to have her dodge each one. I can see it’s going to be like pulling teeth, so I get to the point. “Dad said he paid child support. According to him, he never missed a month. So what happened? Why did you say different? Why did you make me think he didn’t give a damn?”
She lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you spoke to that man and let him fill your head with lies. What have I always told you?”
“Apparently not as much as you should have.”
“Well, you can’t trust a word that comes out of Curtis’s mouth. He’ll place the blame for everything on me and I won’t have it. You are to stay away from him. Same goes for Jace.”
“Mama, I don’t have time for your manipulation. Especially since I don’t know when or if you’re gonna flip back to the other you.”
The hurt of my words reflects in her eyes, yet she says nothing.
I exhale an impatient sigh. “Mama, I’m waiting. What happened to the money? Why did Dad leave?”
She places her coffee cup on the patio table and tugs at the collar of her shirt. “Air… I need air.”
“Mama, you’re outside. How much more air can you need?”
“Well, I feel as though I’m suffocating.” She lays her palm flat on her forehead. “Something feels wrong. Maybe the new meds aren’t working after all.”
“Last night, you said you haven’t felt so good in years,” I offer in rebuttal.
�
��Yes, but maybe I spoke too soon. Maybe I need to—”
“You’re wearing my patience. Stop with the diversion tactics and tell me the truth. Now, Mama.”
“Branch, I’ve told you all I can remember. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Okay, if that’s how you want to play this.” I pull out my phone and scroll through the contacts.
“What are you doing? Who are you calling?”
“I’m asking Dad to come over. See if he can help connect the dots.” I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear.
“Hang up that phone, Branch. Right this minute!”
“I want answers and if you won’t give them to me, I’m sure he’ll be happy to.”
“Fine! Fine! You want to know, I’ll tell you. Your father left because of me!”
I push end on the call and shift my gaze to hers.
“Because I broke our vows. Because I became the person he hated to see at the end of the day. I knew I was wrong, but I didn’t care. I kept at it. I wanted him to hate me because it made it easier for me to hate him.”
What the hell? Broke her vows. Dad never mentioned anything about Mama breaking vows.
“Truth is… your father was a good man, a great father, and a saint of a husband.”
“Then why keep me away from him?”
“Because I knew I was wrong!” she shouts. “For running him off. For breaking my commitment to him. And I figured if you knew the truth—that I was this shallow bitch of a person who’d run your daddy off—you’d choose him over me and I’d be left alone.”
“You kept us apart so I wouldn’t find out you caused the divorce? There has to be more to this story.”
“When he left—something I didn’t think he’d ever do—I was devastated but too proud to ask him back. And when I found out he’d taken up with that whore, Charlene, that he’d gone straight from my bed to hers, it was bad, Branch. Really bad. I was hurt and I wanted him to hurt. And I figured the only way to do that was through you.”
I shake my head, watching as life-altering words slip from her lips. “Do you realize what you’ve done? How fucked this all sounds?”
“It wasn’t all me. It was the sickness.”
My brows rise. “The sickness? You mean the one you swear you don’t have?”
“Branch, please don’t be this way.”
I place my hands on the table, leaning in. “What kind of parent does that? Turns a child against their father to satisfy their own spiteful vengeance?”
“A shitty one. A screwed-up one, Branch. Isn’t that what you’re thinking?”
“Don’t waste your energy playing that fucking card! It’s not gonna work. Not this time.”
“Branch, please try to understand,” she says, quickly recalculating her approach.
“Understand what? What you took from Dad? How you hijacked a significant part of my childhood? How you’re doing the same damned thing to Jace?”
“You have to know that part of this was due to my mental issues, don’t you? It wasn’t all me,” she says, desperation flashing across her face. “I wasn’t always like this, Branch. Needing medication to keep my head on right. I was fine until Curtis left.”
I sit back in the chair, trying to put everything together. “Until he left? Then where did the drugs come in?”
“There were never any hard drugs… just pot,” she says, looking away as if embarrassed. “One evening, after one of our fights, Curtis went outside to get away from me. Me being me, I followed him and tried to kick-start round two, but he was completely unaffected by my taunts. He just took another drag and said, ‘Whatever, Mary.’ I poked and jabbed but with each word, he became more and more lax. And that’s when I remembered what he’d told me. That Mary Jane made the fast slow and the important trivial. In that moment, that was exactly what I needed—slow and trivial, so I asked him to let me try it. And to my surprise, I liked it, liked the way it made me feel. I was calm and more like the person I wanted to be, so I told him I needed my own stash. I figured I’d have it on standby for those days when I couldn’t seem to turn myself off. I’m sure that was music to his ears. A calm Mary McGuire didn’t come around often. Anyway, he came home one night and pulled out an extra bag of pot for me. And I never touched it until the day he moved out. The following morning, I felt weird. Like I was floating from one scene to the next. Been feeling weird ever since.”
My eyes are pinned to the martyred expression in hers. And I try to picture Mama as she described. As an innocent. But the hue of righteous indignation won’t let me. I only see an image of destruction sitting across from me.
“Branch—”
“So the pot… it must have been laced with something?”
“Yes. That’s what we later figured out. It was mixed with some synthetic strands of cannabinoids that trigger abnormal activity in part of the brain.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This kind of shit just doesn’t happen. But it did happen and we were all victims in one form or another. “And what about the child support? What did you do with it?”
Her gaze falls to her fingers twisting in her lap. “All of this was my doing. Had I been the supportive wife and been there for better or worse, none of this would’ve happened. But I was angry. Angry that I chose wrong. That I let go of my dreams to chase his. That I wasn’t the kind of wife who could stand by her husband. And look at me now. I have nothing. No marriage. No degree. A brain that works when it wants. And love for a man who hates me the way I wanted him to.”
“Tell me about the money, Mama,” I say, ignoring her draw for sympathy and pressing for answers she’s still reluctant to give.
“It’s in the bank,” she says, her voice sad, her eyes avoiding mine.
Something tightens in my abdomen.“What bank?”
“First National. In Iowa.”
“All of it?”
“Yes,” she says, finally looking up to meet my eyes.
There it is. That second punch in the gut I was waiting for. She’s the cause of it all. “You let us suffer for nothing,” I say, more to myself than to her.
She reaches out and places her hand over mine, but I instinctively recoil.
“We did all right, Branch. Didn’t we?”
“If you call all right going without water, electricity, or food, then yeah, we sure as hell did all right. How could you do that to your own child? Do you have any idea how much I hated Dad for that? Or how many hours I put in at Jimmy’s Garage to help with bills? Not only did you keep me away from my father, you lied about him to make yourself look better.”
“I’m sorry, Branch,” she says, her eyes wet with tears. “I know an apology is never going to be enough. And I know I can’t go back in time and do things differently, but if I could, I would. My head isn’t screwed on right and it was even worse back then. I was constantly thinking Curtis was going to take you from me. At your age, you could have chosen which parent you wanted to live with, so I figured if you viewed him as an uncaring asshole, you’d always choose me.”
She reaches out to me again, but I stand and place some distance between us. “Now is not the time. I don’t want to be mean to you, so it’ll do us both some good if you get out of my sight.”
The hurt of her dismissal flashes across her face, mixing with the tears. “Okay… but promise me I haven’t lost you.” She rubs a hand over her wet cheeks. “Please. I couldn’t bear if I lost you, Branch.”
“Go, Mama. Just go.”
I turn away from her and cast my gaze across the backyard. She robbed me of a father. She robbed my father of a son. I won’t let her do that to Jace. Not anymore.
As for me, it may be too late. Growing up as I did placed something dark inside me that will always shy away from light.
Mama said we did all right. Truth is we survived! Thanks in part to food banks, second-hand stores and the kindness of friends. We barely scraped by. And now… to know that we suffered needlessly… I have no words.
>
A breeze fingers the wind chimes and stirs long-buried feelings.
I’m not a man of tears. Nor do I give into the weakness of emotions. They are pushed down. Repressed. Never to be acknowledged. But today, when a tear threatens, I let it fall. Just that one. I let it have its way, tracing a path along my jaw in mourning of what’s lost and what will never be.
Present Day
“RAINE IS SCHEDULED TO MEET with us tomorrow afternoon, so I need you back in Dallas,” Vaughn says. “Directly after we seal the deal—and we will seal the deal—there’s a press conference to address the rumor mill. That’s when we’ll announce the Raine Industries endorsement and slide in our spin on your leave.”
I press the speaker button and finish getting dressed. “Has something gone down that I need to know about?” I ask, detecting something strange in Vaughn’s voice.
“Let’s just say your absence from the last few practices hasn’t gone unnoticed. Connie and I took care of it, but with you sitting out the next few games, we need your face on this one. We can’t have anyone thinking you’re stepping out for professional reasons. We need you in front of this.”
“Yeah. Got it.”
“We’ve already prepared your statement. Sending to you within the hour. Look over it. Memorize it. Don’t go off script. Too much is depending on getting this exactly right. We’ll keep it short and sweet. And then at the right time, Connie will step in and end it.”
“Got it,” I repeat. “Thanks, V.”
“I’ve gotta say, I’d enjoy this game far more if I were watching you play, Branch.”
“I agree with Curtis. It’s not the same when you aren’t the one behind the ball,” Jimmy says.
I take a swallow of beer. “Tell me about it.” If someone would’ve told me—even a few hours ago—that I’d be sitting in Jimmy’s man cave watching a playoff game with Jimmy and Dad, I would have dropped dead on the spot. And as for enjoying the game, I’m not. I’ve cursed the TV screen all four quarters, frustrated as hell that I’m here instead of on the field.
My phone dings. Recognizing the alert, I stop mid-conversation to check out the latest news. ESPN is reporting my leave—along with it, news of my endorsement with Raine Industries. I shake my head with a grin. It’s all playing out as Vaughn said it would.
