by Anthology
I don’t know why, but I had not been expecting him to say that. I knew she’d died—Brendan had told me that much—but that she’d committed suicide came as a bit of a shock.
Actually, a lot.
It was just too much. I took a deep breath and stood. “This is too fucking much to process.” Logan looked up at me then, a defeated look in his eyes. “Know what? Just stay the fuck out of my life. You, Brendan, my mom—you’re all dysfunctional, and I just can’t do this anymore.”
I ran out of his house and kept running once I hit the sidewalk. At the end of the block, though, I stopped. If mom was still home, I was in no shape to face her.
So I walked around the neighborhood, not caring that it was completely dark out. I had too many thoughts swimming through my head, the first being If this is what it means to be an adult, I want no part of it.
What the hell was I going to do now? In less than two months, my dream life had imploded. I’d found out my future husband didn’t like women and the man I’d lost my virginity to might be my dad. Man…the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it?
My life was like a white trash soap opera.
What was I going to do with my life now? I pondered, remembering a girl named Elena who’d dropped out last spring near the end of her junior year when I’d been a sophomore. When I ran into her last March, she’d told me she was a stripper now and made great money. “Besides, it’s nice having men admire your body from afar. No touchie-touchie,” she’d giggled.
I was pretty enough to be a stripper and I had a decent body—and, now that I was a slut, I might as well. My counselor might have thought I was smart…but a smart girl wouldn’t have gotten herself into a mess like this in the first place.
I wandered around the neighborhood a little longer, and feeling fresh anger well in my chest. By the time I got home, I was glad to see mom was still there, because I was finally ready to tear into her. She sat at the kitchen table, slouched over a can of beer, the ashtray in front of her overflowing with stinky crushed butts. “Decided to grace me with your presence, eh?”
“How dare you? You have no right—”
She stood and pointed at me. “I’m still your mother, Briana Kay, no matter how disappointed in me you’ve think you are.”
“You have no right to call yourself mother.”
I could see I was pushing a button. Good. She needed to feel a little disappointment, too. “I gave birth to you—and you might not know it, but I’m doing the best I can.”
I doubted it, but that was a conversation for another time. I refrained from rolling my eyes, saying whatever, or even telling her to fuck off. Instead, I said, “Just be honest with me about Brendan’s dad. Why?”
Something I’d said set her off. Her nostrils were flaring as she fished a cigarette out of the pack, but she didn’t light it yet. Her eyes became such narrow slits that I couldn’t see the line between the pupils and the brown irises. “You’re a little whore.”
Of all the things I’d ever expected my mother to say, that wasn’t it. I knew I’d been a cheater—and I’d justified it because I wasn’t happy in my relationship with Brendan. In retrospect, I believed it was because he wasn’t happy, either, so it felt like that had worked itself out. But the bottom line was I’d been a virgin before Logan. I wasn’t going around having sex with every guy I laid my eyes on—even though my libido had reared its ugly head. My ire still hadn’t subsided, so her nasty words didn’t hurt. They stung, but that made me angrier, and the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them or even analyze the truth in them. “I’m not a whore like you, mom. I love him.”
Wait…what? Was that true?
“What the fuck? Logan?”
My heart was speaking to me now. “Yes.” As mom’s eyes searched mine, she lifted the cigarette to her mouth and lit it, taking a long, slow drag, all while I let the reality of my words sink in. I realized that, no matter how angry I’d been or how betrayed I felt, I cared for Logan deeply. In fact, love wasn’t too strong a word.
It was true.
“Sit down, Briana.”
I obeyed this time, the wind out of my sails. Her words now didn’t feel as harsh as they’d been just moments earlier. In fact, for the first time in years, they felt motherly. Mom plopped in her chair as well. “Logan’s not your father, Bree. I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want you to know. Your real dad’s a loser, and I never wanted you to feel like you came from a loser.” She took another drag and blew the smoke up toward the ceiling. “His name is Jonny Shaw. I went to high school with him. I was pregnant before I even hooked up with Logan. I didn’t even know you were growing inside me when we got together. Jonny—he was the love of my life. But he dumped me for good and left me with a kid without even offering to help. He broke my heart. So I tried to get him out of my head, tried dating a few guys and other stuff—but nothing worked. And then when I figured out I was pregnant, I confronted him.” Mom took another drag off her cigarette before finishing the beer in the can. She got really quiet and kept her eyes down, but I thought I saw a tear fall. My mom might have been a lot of things, but she wasn’t a crier and she wasn’t known for sentimentality, so this was something new and strange. “He gave me a couple hundred bucks and told me to get an abortion, calling me a stupid bitch for getting pregnant in the first place—and then he walked away. So I dropped out of school and thought about my future. I considered getting rid of you for about five seconds.” Looking up at me, my mom swallowed, and it was then that I knew for certain her eyes were wet. “But I knew I already loved you and I wanted to see your tiny little face. I wanted to be your mom.” A tear slid down her cheek and she sucked on her cigarette. It was quiet in there and I wasn’t sure what to say. “But I fucked up every step of the way; I haven’t been a good mom for you. I don’t think I was meant to be a mother.”
It was then that I realized a truth. For some reason, my mother had always felt inadequate and unloved, and rather than trying to find the truth or even trying to prove the world wrong, she’d become that which she feared. Hearing her testimony now, though, I knew she did love me, no matter how she’d screwed up in every imaginable way. She touched my hand. “I love you, Briana Kay—and I’m sorry you didn’t have a real father…or mother. But you’ve grown up to be so smart and sweet anyway. You’re such a good kid and I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“That’s not true, mom.” Surely, she’d had something to do with it long ago. I had to believe that. “I love you, too.”
I don’t know how long we sat in the kitchen, crying and talking, but I told mom I was considering college. I didn’t tell her that I’d been thinking about stripping or anything else stupid—and she told me she’d be proud of me no matter what I did.
And that was all great, but as I lay in bed that night, I reflected back on what I’d told Logan. I’d told him to stay the fuck out of my life. And, even if I decided to make up with him, could I in my small town continue a relationship with a man definitely old enough to be my father? And just how would my ex-boyfriend feel about that?
I’d gotten myself into quite a mess…and I didn’t know how to work my way out of it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Autumn was always been my favorite season. I love how the weather gradually eases from long warm days into cool evening breezes, and the trees respond by turning an array of yellows, reds, and oranges while the smaller plants wither and dry up, bitterly letting go.
The season signifies death and this year I embraced it. After all my agonizing, I decided to go forward with what I’d initially planned, and I was going to live my life as a single person. Then there would be no more drama, nothing out of my control, no surprises.
Brendan and I began seeing less and less of each other, and that was simply a natural occurrence. It wasn’t that we didn’t care about one another, but we now had other interests with nothing keeping us together, save a friendship that seemed less important as the days
went by. I think it was because Brendan was finally allowing himself some freedom, letting himself explore and discover who he really was and not who he thought society wanted. A risk of living in a small city (college town or not) was that the reasoning of its citizens sometimes had to catch up with the rest of the world. Sometimes, though, it was almost there already, and we just failed to see it.
Brendan and I made time to eat lunch together in the cafeteria one Wednesday in October for old times’ sake. As I picked at my lasagna, he was answering my question about what was new in his life. The old Brendan had been introspective, a man of few words. This new guy was learning who he was and wasn’t wasting any time doing it. “I took your advice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I tried to add a drama class to my schedule but, just like I figured, it was too late.”
“Aw, I’m sorry, Bren. That sucks.”
“It’s okay. I did the next best thing.” He had a grin on his face that made his dimples deepen in that cute way that always made me feel gooey inside. Today, there was no melty feeling but it definitely made me smile back.
“What’s that?”
“I joined the drama club and tried out for the fall play.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah—and I got a small part.”
“That’s awesome!”
Brendan took a bite of garlic bread. “That’s not all, though. I, um…I quit the football team.”
“What?”
Nodding, he kept the smile on his face. “I didn’t belong there, Bree. Some of the guys were cool with the new me but not all of them. And that’s fine. I was playing football because that’s what I thought everyone wanted me to do.”
“What about your scholarship?”
“I still want to go to school there, so I’m seeing about changing my financial aid package. I have a phone call scheduled with them next week.”
“Good luck.”
“What about you?”
I shrugged, focusing my eyes on my half-eaten tray of food. I didn’t want to talk about myself because even though I was no longer a train wreck, I wasn’t sure what I wanted or needed my future to be. Without Brendan, I was having to re-evaluate everything about my life—and I wasn’t quite there yet. “Um…looking at schools and stuff. I have another appointment with Mr. Parnell next week. I’m pretty sure he’s sick of me.”
“No one could get sick of you, Bree.”
I wanted to change the subject. I wasn’t comfortable talking about myself, because I hadn’t figured shit out yet. I waved a hand at him as if brushing off the subject and smiled. “Did I see you walking down the hall with a cute guy yesterday?”
Brendan’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink but he grinned from ear to ear. “You did. I’m, um…I’m actually dating Dennis Mayfield.”
“I think he was in my freshman English class.”
“He’s playing the lead in the fall play—so I think I’m pretty damn lucky.”
“So is he. Trust me on this.”
“You’re too sweet, Bree,” he said, patting my hand. I smiled—even though I didn’t say a word, I disagreed strongly with his evaluation of me. Had I been sweet, I never would have cheated on him, despite the fact that he’d never know. Brendan deserved to be happy, and I was glad to see it—and thrilled to watch him moving on with his life and going after what he wanted.
I could have learned a lot from him, but I was stuck in this rut of feeling sorry for myself. I’d already decided Logan was off limits to me. The problem was that I couldn’t get him out of my head. I’d even had a couple boys ask me out now that I was available…but I’d turned them both down, because they weren’t Logan.
I felt like I would never be able to love again. He’d wrecked me. How could I ever come back from that?
Brendan invited me to watch the play. They were performing the week before Thanksgiving, with shows on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. I was looking forward to observing him onstage. I’d watched him on the field for over two years, so it would be nice seeing him in what I figured would be his element, his true calling.
But then I debated about it long and hard. Much as I loved Brendan and would always call him a friend, I needed to move on with my life. Continuing to see him occasionally seemed to serve one purpose and that was keeping my wounds from healing—but I told myself that this would be the last hurrah, the final farewell. Brendan didn’t need to know what I was thinking, but I needed to cement the idea firmly in my mind.
That Saturday night, I walked to the school, a chilly breeze biting my legs through my jeans, causing me to jam my hands deep inside my coat pockets, holding my head down so my hood could protect my face from the sting. After paying for my ticket, I walked through the lobby to the auditorium doors and stood looking over the seats in the audience. There weren’t many empty ones, and I didn’t really feel like socializing, so choosing the right seat would be difficult. I’d dated Brendan for two years, so I didn’t want weird questions or comments about why I was there.
While I stood in that gaping doorway, I sensed someone approaching me from the side, so I moved to let the person through…except that person didn’t keep moving. He stopped next to me and waited for me to turn my head to look at him.
It was, of course, Logan. And I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was there to support his son. He’d attended most of the football games; why wouldn’t he attend a play, especially when he’d been waiting patiently for his son to admit and accept his sexual orientation?
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Briana.” I nodded, my lips pursed together in a smile. “Are you here with someone?”
I knew why he was asking. “No.”
“I’m by myself, too. Do you want to sit next to me if we can find two seats together?”
“Sure.”
It took a bit of time searching, but we managed to find a couple of seats in the third row to the far right. It didn’t really matter where we sat, because every location in that auditorium provided a decent view of the stage. The only difference was how much facial expression we’d be able to see—and we were close enough to be able to catch an actor’s lifted brow.
Once we’d settled in, Logan asked, “How’ve you been?”
“Okay. Just kind of settling in to my senior year and trying to figure out what I want to do with my life.”
“I wish I could offer some sage advice but I’m afraid that’s something you’ll want to figure out for yourself. If you wind up doing what someone else thinks is right for you…well, you might wind up resenting it.”
“Yeah, I get that—but sometimes I think a few suggestions wouldn’t hurt.”
He sat up, clearing his throat—a sound I could barely hear over the low roar of the crowd engaged in conversation to bide their time before the play began. “I can give you the same words of wisdom I gave Brendan which are, simply, to think about what you want to do with your life and then figure out what it takes to get there. If, for example, you want to be a model, going to college probably isn’t going to help. You’ll need to find an agent to begin with, and I have no idea what else you’d need to do—but if that’s where your interest lies, you’ll want to do the research. If you instead decide you want to be a doctor, then you have to continue your education. There’s no other way to do it.”
I couldn’t help the grin that formed on my face. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy when you’re up on top of the mountain looking down. Really, though, that’s all there is to it.”
The house lights dimmed, signaling that the play was about to begin. “Did you know before this that Brendan wanted to act?”
“No idea. But I don’t think he knew it until recently, either. I’m just glad to see him embracing who he really is.”
I felt a little wistful but agreed. “Yeah.” I just needed to do the same for myself.
When the play was over, the cast invited everyone to say hi to them in the lobby. Logan a
nd I stayed together while making our way out of the auditorium as bodies slowly shuffled their way out. It turned out that there was a long line of people who wanted to chat with the actors, but the group seemed to be moving fairly quickly. While we inched along in the line, Logan said, “Brendan has a cast party tonight, but they have to strike the set first.”
I knew Brendan would have fun at the party with his actor boyfriend, and it once more made me nostalgic for the times he and I attended parties together in the past. Looking back now, I admonished myself for not figuring out his secret—but I knew he’d still been struggling to find himself back then. At least we had some good times.
“I think they’re probably going to be partying all night long.”
And, if not, Brendan would likely want to spend time with the boyfriend just the same. I nodded politely, growing tired of talking about my ex.
As we got close to the actors, we’d be able to shake their hands and congratulate them, and then we could end this awkward conversation. But Logan turned and almost buried his face in my hair—he was close to my ear so I could hear him over the din of the exuberant crowd. “I wondered if you’d want to come over tonight.”
Those words traveled from my ear to my heart. For the entire time I’d been with Logan, if anyone had asked, I would have said I was with him for the sex…for feeling satisfied as a woman. But now, entertaining the idea of spending time with him, I realized I’d been with him for entirely different reasons, ones I hadn’t understood fully until now.
And even with that knowledge, I questioned if it would be stupid to try again…to even want to try. And yet I could think of nothing else I’d rather do.
Before we began shaking actors’ hands, I said, “Okay.”
He smiled at me as we started congratulating the troupe on a play well performed.
Less than an hour later, I was sitting in Logan’s kitchen while he cut two scrumptious-looking pieces of tiramisu. I stirred my cup of coffee to dissolve the sugar and mix in the creamer before taking a sip. Logan sat beside me, placing the sweet dessert on the table in front of me. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”
