Thanksgiving was a bust, but at least it was over. I hadn’t heard from Marty or Scott in the forty-eight hours since Jaime had banished them from our apartment. Even if they wanted to get in touch, there was no way for them to, unless they called my parents for my phone number or emailed me from an internet café. They were due to leave tomorrow, so I didn’t expect to hear from them.
My emotions were a jumbled mess. Until now, my entire college existence had revolved around Marty and Scott. Marty and I still shared an apartment and every time I thought of moving back in with her, my stomach turned sour. It was too late to move out, but I couldn’t fall back into my pre-Ireland life. Not that I would want to when she was sleeping with my ex-boyfriend. Deep down, I wasn’t surprised; Marty always did what she wanted regardless of other people’s feelings.
Marissa stuck her head through the door. “Rory? Your dad’s on the phone.”
I rose from my desk and picked up the phone, curious as to why he had called. “Hi, Dad. Happy belated Thanksgiving.”
“Hi, honey. How was your day?”
“Oh, one for the memory book. Sorry I didn’t call. With the time change and everything, the day got away from me.” I tried to speak with varied intonation but my dismal mood carried on my voice. “How was yesterday? Did you go to Auntie’s?”
“Yes, just like last year. It was fine. Everyone missed you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Was Debbie there?” Debbie was his girlfriend when I left for Ireland, but his girlfriends never lasted long.
“No, actually your mom came.”
I twirled the phone cord around my index finger. “Huh. I thought mom was going to Grandma’s.”
“She did, but she came to Auntie’s for dessert.”
“Is mom there? I’d like to talk to her.”
“No, she’s at work.”
“Oh, so what’s up?” I didn’t try to sound rude, but my dad and I weren’t exactly close, and I couldn’t imagine him calling international just to check in.
“I just wanted to say hello,” he quickly said, “And also to tell you that December first I’ll be depositing the rest of your money into your account. That’s the last of it, so make it last.”
Relieved by his generosity, but still confused by my mother’s presence at his Thanksgiving, I stumbled over my words. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be sure to get you something.”
“Nah, just have a beer for me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tell Mom I said hi. Love you.”
“Okay, honey, bye.”
I hung up the phone, empty from my dad’s lack of words. Would he ever say he loved me? I reentered our bedroom and dropped on my bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.
“Are you okay?” Jaime watched me from the corner of his bed. “You look sad.”
I looked up and hesitated, not sure if I was ready to share all the layers of my dysfunction. “I’m okay. Just thinking.”
A flashback of my parents zipped through my mind like a car on the Autobahn. It was so fast I didn’t recognize the scene, but the triggered feelings brought me back to that day. At eight years old, I came home from school with a stomach bug. The nurse called my mom at work, and not only did she have to deal with my sickness, but also my emotional dysregulation from throwing up in front of my classmates. She drove me home from school, and told me she’d cook me chicken noodle soup. I went upstairs to change, and I heard moans and groans coming from my parents’ bedroom. Scared, I ran back to my mom. “Mama,” I had asked, “Is the TV on? I think someone’s up there.”
She dropped her purse and bolted up the stairs. I slowly followed, unsure why she raced up the stairs like a sprinter at a track meet. She slammed open the door, and through the crack in the doorjamb, I saw a woman wrestling with my dad under the blankets. My heart caught in my chest, and I crept to my bedroom. I turned on my music to drown out the screaming that ensued.
My eyes shot to Jaime, and my throat tightened. My face contorted into shattered glass. Jaime gently placed his hand on my knee. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“When I was eight, I saw my dad cheating on my mom. That moment has stayed with me, and I promised myself I’d never get so close to a man that I’d miss the signs. And I did.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice hushed and I sat up straighter, refusing to allow my parents’ marriage to stop me from finding love. Willie’s prediction of finding love within six months gave me hope that my future would be better than their past, but time was ticking.
“It’s okay. My mother pretended nothing happened. My dad moved into the basement, living his life, while my mom and I lived upstairs. It was confusing, being a child and seeing women and men come and go in a home where both parents lived but hated each other. To ignore my confusion, I buried myself in school, proving my worth to my dad. My mom had a mental breakdown and I was the one who picked up the pieces. She still hasn’t fully recovered.” I wiped my tears and smiled to reassure Jaime that I really was okay. “And now my mom is going to holidays with my dad and I don’t understand. Are they together? Are they not? He didn’t bring his girlfriend, but brought my mom. I don’t ask questions because the answers only complicate things. Instead, I watch them destroy each other and myself in the process.” I sighed and stood up. “Now you know why I’m fucked up.”
He pulled me into him and the armor around my heart chipped away one piece at a time. “We’re all fecked up somehow. You’re not that special.” Raising my eyes to his, I saw the laughter on his lips. “Just kidding, you’re more than special. You’re spectacular.”
My ears heard him, but my brain had already moved on. “And then there’s Scott and Marty. I still don’t know how I missed the signs. I remember, one night after an all-nighter in the library, I walked into our apartment and the two of them were eating breakfast on our couch. They both wore the same clothes from the day before, which I found odd, but they told me that Scott got locked out of his dorm after a frat party and needed a place to crash. It didn’t make a lot of sense, but I let it slide.”
