“You don’t deserve that severe of a punishment, Graham. That’s bullshit and I think you know it too.” Fuming, I say to Mercy, “You need to run this by me next time, got it?”
“You need to be going now” is her only response.
“No! It’s not fair!”
“I know, hon,” I tell Gillian as she wraps her arms around me tighter. “But settle down. I’ll be back. I promise.”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
I find Haley’s shocked stare at Mercy’s words, knowing this is the moment my world will fall apart.
“Mercy…”
“We’ll be needing to have a discussion about those papers you want me to sign.”
“Please, Mercy, don’t do this to me.”
“You did it to yourself. You’re clearly not adult enough to handle four children on your own.” She laughs. If a laugh could sound old, Mercy’s would. It’s creaky and hollow, like it’s something she rarely does. “Of course, you really wouldn’t be on your own now. Not with”—she waves a hand Haley’s way—“that.”
Biting my tongue at how hurtful her words are, I say, “I got married, Mercy. It isn’t the end of the world. It doesn’t mean I’m not responsible.”
“How can you say that? You have been…togetherfor merely five months. That’s nothing to base a relationship on, let alone one with four children to raise. You’re not ready.”
“I am.”
“You’re not. That’s my final decision.”
Her eyes are as dead as her voice. She’s serious. She won’t give me guardianship of the kids when she passes, and I know it’s coming soon. That’s the reason we’ve been talking about this for almost two years. Ever since her stroke, it’s been a sliding slope headed downhill. Some days she’s well enough to care for the kids and the house and everything that comes along with that, but I know most days it’s a struggle, which is why so much falls on the kid’s shoulders. I help out as much as I can when it comes to fixing things up and paying the bills; that’s the reason I work three fucking jobs. I have a family to take care of, and I do it. Even though I’m not always physically here, I’m stillhere.I think Mercy forgets that sometimes, or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she knows she can hold the guardianship over my head so I continue to pay for the majority of the living expenses and her back-owed medical bills. I’m sure she doesn’t forget any of that.
The fire that was blazing its way through my veins turns to solid ice. My burning body turns cold and the hard beating of my heart withers down to slow, barely there patters. I feel nothing.
Until I do.
Everything hits me at once. Anger. Sadness. Hurt. Pain. Regret.
That one eats at me the most. For the first time since that night in Vegas, I regret marrying Haley. It’s cost me a future with my family, a future I desperately needed. I have wrongs to right. This was my only hope of doing so.
I can barely look at her as I let go of Gillian and step away. I can’t look at her as I give the kids a solemn nod or as I take one last burdened breath before I walk from the room without another word. I don’t glance over when she grabs hold of my hand and makes her way out the door with me. I don’t stop to meet her beautiful green eyes as she stares a hole into the side of my head. I refuse to even flinch when she starts a tirade filled with hurt and pain once we reach the sidewalk.
“How could you not tell me about this, Gaige?”
I was scared it wouldn’t happen if I talked about it out loud.
“You want guardianship of your four siblings?”
More than I want anything else in this life.
“My apartment isn’t big enough for that!”
Our apartment.
“How can we build a marriage if you don’t open up to me?”
I’m a screw-up.
“Is this what you want for our future? Lies and secrets?”
No, but I don’t know how to live any other way.
“What does this mean for us? Four kids? Holy hell. How are we supposed to make this work?”
It means we were too good to be true.
“Are you even going to look at me?!”
I can’t—it hurts too much to know I’ve lost you too.
“Fine, but remember: this isn’t me walking away, this is you giving up.”
I’m sorry, Haley.
