“What are you saying?” I know she understands, but it’s obvious she wants me to say the words, and I don’t blame her.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” A huge smile appears on her face, illuminating her from the inside out. “Officially?” I add.
Real fucking smooth, Trevor! What are you, fucking twelve!? That was so horrible.
She giggles for a moment, and then tears fill her eyes as she closes the distance between us. Grey is alert in my arms, staring between us with a happy expression.
“Of course, Trevor Warren. I’d love to be your girlfriend.” She kisses me, long and deep. “Even though you were too stupid to ask me sooner,” she teases. “But all is forgiven.”
“I should’ve asked you the moment I saw you.”
“You were interested in me way back then?”
“At first, I was captivated by your beauty, but as soon as you spoke, I became captivated by the rest of you as well.” I’m shocked as I say it because it’s so romantic and out of character for me.
“I was drawn to you instantly, too. However, it was when I saw you interact with Greyson that I knew you were it for me.”
I crash my lips to hers, taking a moment to show her physically just how much I love her. I’m certain that we’ve got the rest of our lives to enjoy each other, but all I want right now is to bask in this moment.
Chapter 19
scars
With every tattoo session I had, I felt myself growing stronger. Ronnie and Grey sat by my side each time, watching as my tattoo was slowly completed. I felt my grief begin to transform into something else, something that felt a hell of a lot like acceptance. My brother is gone, but I’m not, and Grey needs me to be strong for him. As soon as that last dot of ink was needled into my skin, I felt like a completely different man. I walked away from the last session feeling stronger and more in control of my own life. Ink therapy mixed with actual therapy has transformed my life so much already. If only my cravings for alcohol would disappear—then my life would feel perfect. Maybe Dr. Russell is right. Maybe attending A.A. meetings would be more beneficial to me than I’ve been allowing myself to believe.
Therapy has been a slow progression, but I’ve learned to trust Dr. Russell. I feel like he’s my friend, although, I know he’s only there for me in a professional manner because my family’s paying him. He seems invested though—more than I imagined a therapist to be. There’s just something in his eyes when he looks at me during our sessions that suggests he cares—like a father would look at their son. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part. I don’t have many friends, so it’s nice to imagine that Dr. Russell is one of them.
“You seem more at peace with yourself,” he comments as he watches me relax in my chair across from him.
I’ve never really been able to relax since I started coming here. Something about the sterility of the impersonal room normally puts me on edge, but today, I feel calm. “I feel better,” I eventually say as I stare at my hands. “I finally filed for Grey’s benefits, so I should be receiving a check in the mail soon.” I’m going to buy Grey so much shit with that money. I’ll also be able to ease up on my strenuous work schedule, which will allow me to spend more time with him. After hearing my mother spew such shit about me, Ronnie’s been watching Grey for me while I work. Since she works from home, she promises she’s not put out by it; however, I still feel shitty about her giving up her free hours to babysit him all the time. She also claims it’s not a chore since she loves him, but I know it has to make editing difficult for her.
“That’s good. Was filing difficult for you?”
“Holding a copy of my brother’s and his wife’s death certificates was difficult,” I say, answering his unspoken question. I sit in silence for a moment, remembering what it was like to hold such a dreadful piece of paper. “I was so angry at first,” I began before I even realized I was speaking. “I was so fucking angry. I just wanted to scream at someone. Blame someone for all our losses. I want to know why it happened, but I know I’ll never get that answer.” I pause again for a long moment, Dr. Russell says nothing, not wanting to push me just yet. “Sometimes I wish it would’ve been me,” I say quietly. “Grey would have his dad, my mom would have her favorite son, and Dean would’ve gotten the future he worked so hard to have.”
“Wanting to die is not going to bring your brother back.”
“I know. I just wish I could take his place is all.”
“You say that Dean was your mother’s favorite son, do you really believe that is true, Trevor?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Of course, I do. I know it’s true.”
“Has your mother said as much?”
“Yes. It’s not just that though, it’s also the way she looks at me. Like I’m inconveniencing her by just existing.”
“And your father, does he love you? Or do you believe he also preferred your brother?”
“No, he loves me—but he just can’t help it. He loves everyone.”
“So, if he didn’t love everyone, he wouldn’t be capable of loving you?”
“It’s just in his nature. I think if he was capable of feeling differently, he would.”
“So, he only loves you because he can’t help himself.”
“I don’t know. I suppose so.”
“What about Greyson. Does he love you?”
“Yeah, but he’s just a baby.”
“So, when he grows older you don’t believe he’ll love you anymore.”
“I hope he does,” I say honestly, unable to stomach the thought of Grey hating me one day. “He’s my world.”
“Don’t you think that you’re probably his world, as well?”
I smile at the thought. “Maybe,” I finally agree.
Dr. Russell is silent for a few moments. “Do you think your mother loves you? Even if you believe it’s not as much as she loved your brother?”
“She’s never been able to love me in the right way: the way a parent should love a child. I’m sure she tried, but she just can’t find it in herself to love me.” I feel like I’m defending her as I speak, but it can’t be all of her fault. I’m sure my being such a fuck-up had something to do with her treatment of me.
“But you believe your father can love you the right way?”
“He doesn’t know any better,” I reiterate.
“So, he loves you because he has bad taste?” Dr. Russell challenges. “Is there anyone you love, Trevor? What would loving a person the ‘right’ way entail to you?”
“I love Grey and Ronnie right.” It feels so good to be able to tell someone how I feel about her.
“Ronnie?”
“Veronica, my girlfriend.”
“Oh, yes. Your neighbor, Veronica. She’s your girlfriend now? Congratulations, Trevor.”
“Thanks, our relationship is new. Very new. I only asked her to be my girlfriend a few days ago.”
“That’s wonderful, Trevor,” he says with a small, but impressed smile. “I’m glad you have someone to talk to. So, you love her the ‘right’ way, then?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She’s all I could ever want. She’s the person I want to share my life with. I love her now and I know I’ll love her even when it hurts to do so. I’ve already forgiven her for everything she could possibly do to me.”
“Is that why you feel your mother doesn’t love you? Because she doesn’t accept you and forgive you for your past transgressions?”
I nod, he’s spot-fucking-on. “If she really loved me, she’d do so unconditionally. Even when she doesn’t like me, she’d find it in her heart to love me—but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even try. I love Grey unconditionally and he hasn’t been in my life very long. There’s nothing he could ever do that would make me stop loving him. My love for him is limitless.”
“You say that you’ve changed a lot, Trevor. Do you think the ‘old’ you could have loved Veronica and Grey?”
I considered his question for a l
ong time. Could I have loved them just the same back then? The real question is: would I have been ready to love anyone back then? Hell, I was barely able to love myself. When I wasn’t deep in self-loathing, I was running around doing terrible shit, completely unconcerned with my own welfare. I couldn’t have loved anyone then because it wouldn’t have been right to drag them into my shitty life. I want to say I would have changed for Ronnie and Grey, but I can’t be sure. Change happens internally, the transformations that have happened in my life happened because I wanted them to.
“I would’ve wanted to love them. My judgment was so clouded back then, I could barely love myself enough to be able to love anyone else. I doubt I’d be able to change just because I fell in love.”
“Well, you’re seeing yourself clearly now,” Dr. Russell says with a smile as he jots down a few notes on today’s session. “That’s it for today, but I want to assign you some homework. I want you to do some journaling for me. Just document whatever you’re feeling in a notebook. Also, I hope you’re still considering those A.A. meetings we talked about. I know you’re hesitant about going, but it can be beneficial to talk to people who have also struggled with the same type of addictions.”
I nod, giving it some consideration, before parting ways with him and heading home. I suppose he could be right about those meetings. The only thing holding me back from going is my pride. I don’t want to admit to ever having a problem with any type of substance abuse. I feel so fucking weak saying that I had once allowed drugs and alcohol to control my life. On the other hand, I can see how admitting to and taking ownership of my problems—as well as talking with others—could help me. I’ll look into it. If it’s anonymous that means no one has to know about it. I won’t have to admit my problems to everyone—just a room full of strangers.
It doesn’t take long for me to arrive at my apartment, and before I head inside, I decide to take a moment to call my dad. After hearing his fight with my mom a few days ago, I’ve really wanted to spend some one-on-one time with him. I’ve never seen him stand up to her, I mean, truly stand up to her. Sure, he’s called her out on shit at times and they’ve fought every now and then, but he’s never gone off on her like that. Maybe he can finally see her, see the real her just the way I do. Part of me hopes that isn’t true because I know first-hand how heartbreaking that can be. Although, another part of me is glad he can finally see the truth.
When he answers my call, his voice sounds different over the phone—more somber and resigned. I’ve never heard him sound that way and I can tell he’s trying his best to mask his emotion for my sake. We make plans to meet up tomorrow after I get off work, and after saying goodbye and hanging up the phone I realize I have an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know my dad loves me and he’ll support me until the very end, but I can’t help but wonder if he’d go the same lengths for a woman like my mother. From the sound of his voice, it doesn’t seem likely.
I meet my dad at a diner near my worksite the next day. It’s a twenty-four-hour diner that serves breakfast all day long. Oddly enough, we used to come here all the time growing up. Although, today it seems just as foreign to me as my father does. He looks so somber and absolutely defeated. He’s always been so strong, the patriarch of our family growing up—a pillar of strength. So, it’s bizarre to see him like this. I decide not to say anything about it, I don’t want him feeling worse than he most likely already does. I don’t want to cause what little strength or confidence he has to waver.
He seems scarily resigned as he peruses his menu in his seat across the table from me. He looks older than the last time I saw him. It’s apparent he’s been through a lot over these past few days. His eyes are sunken in and he hasn’t smiled once since he’s arrived. It’s weird seeing him so discontent, especially here in a diner we used to come to so many times during my childhood. Of course, Dean was with us and things were happier back then. Today is such a sharp and painful contrast from our previous trips here.
The waitress comes to our table and we order our usual: Eggs Benedict for him and a mountain of chocolate chip pancakes for me, along with two black coffees. The waitress leaves but quickly returns with two mugs and a fresh pot. The silence at our table is uncomfortable, especially when happy chatter surrounds us.
“So,” I awkwardly begin as I pour each of us a cup of coffee, “how did things go after I left Mom’s party?” He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know it was a disaster.
Dad is silent for a spell, staring at his cup of coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I know whatever happened must’ve been major because I’ve never seen him act this way. Finally, he looks at me and the pain in his eyes gives me my answer.
“Your mom left,” he finally says before taking a much needed sip of his black coffee.
I sit in shock. I could never imagine my mom leaving him. She’s always been so dependent on him and has always been afraid of being alone. I wonder how she’ll fare in the world without a partner to rely on. I’m certain she’ll hate the way it looks. Appearances are everything. She likes all aspects of her life to seem neat and perfect to outsiders. Things like death and divorce are both so sloppy—contradictory to the life she wants. She can play make-believe all she wants, but her life is still just as messy as mine.
“What would make her leave?”
“I didn’t know if I loved her anymore,” he says, sincerity strong in his voice. He won’t meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I—”
“Don’t be,” he immediately cuts me off. “It’s not your fault. Your mom was not who I thought she was. Not the woman I fell in love with anymore. I never realized it until the other night. Once my eyes were opened, I couldn’t go back to living the life—the lie—I once had with her.”
I nod, accepting this. Regardless of what he says, I know I haven’t made things easy for him. My past was terrible and even now, I know I’m a nuisance. “Still, I know I never made things easy on you.”
He shakes his head. “Your mother is the way she is; that has nothing to do with you. When you were a teenager, you used to tell me that you thought she hated you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to listen at the time. Your mom was never particularly warm, and I just thought you were misunderstanding things. However, the other night I realized I was the one suffering from a misapprehension. I saw her face when you hugged her. I’ve never seen her look so cold and indifferent before… I was afraid that’s how she’d always treated you. Is it true, Trevor? Was that the way your mother always behaved toward you? Was I really that foolishly blind?”
I shake my head, not wanting him to believe he was at fault. “Dad, I was a giant fuck-up,” I crassly say. “I understood why Mom wasn’t as close to me as she was with Dean. He was the model child and I just… wasn’t. Even now, I get why she isn’t warm towards me.”
“Trevor, you were a kid then,” he spits out, anger filling his tone as he looks at me with weary eyes. “Your mom should’ve understood that. I just can’t bring myself to feel the way I once did about her. Not after what she did to you. She lied to me about that paperwork; she told me she explained everything to you.” Dad’s quiet for a while and I feel devastated for him. I couldn’t imagine what it feels like to realize the person I loved wasn’t who they appeared to be after so many years of being with them. I can’t stomach the thought of Ronnie betraying me; I can’t begin to imagine what my dad must be experiencing after so many years of marriage.
“Are you two getting a divorce, then?” I finally have the courage to ask.
Dad answers with a solemn nod. “I think it’s time. Things have been strained between us for a long time.”
The waitress delivers food to our table. Dad seems to relax in his seat now that he’s gotten everything he wanted to say off of his chest. I know things are painful right now, but I know soon enough he’ll be able to move on and find happiness without her. Fuck, I just hope this isn’t my fault in some way. As much as
I dislike my mother—I don’t want my dad to separate from her because of me.
As if reading my mind, he quietly tells me, “None of this is your fault, Trevor.” He gives me a tired smile and continues to eat. What he says must be true because my dad has never lied to me, at least, that I know of. Then he changes the subject to a happier one. “So, how’s my grandson?”
“He’s great,” I begin as I dig into my chocolate chip pancakes. “I think he said his first word.” I fucking gush before I can stop myself. I don’t know what it will do to my dad to know my nephew is calling me “da.” Will he be happy—or will he believe it dishonors my brother’s memory like I’ve worried it would?
“What was it?”
“He’s been saying ‘da,’ ” I quietly answer him. “He started saying it the other day. I’ve said ‘dad’ a few times around him on accident and I guess he just picked it up.”
“You are his father, Trevor. Why should you be apologetic about him calling you that?”
“I know you’re right. I’m his father in every sense of the word. Still, I feel like it disrespects Dean in some way. He’s Grey’s biological father and I’m just a poor substitute.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself,” Dad commands. “You’re doing an amazing job with Greyson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re the only father he has—so it’s fine that he calls you that. Dean’s role in his son’s life won’t be diminished because you’ve become Grey’s father.” He studies me for a moment, before adding, “You’ve always way too hard on yourself. That’s part of the reason why I couldn’t stand punishing you. You were constantly punishing yourself. Dean would’ve wanted you and Greyson to be happy.”
“I know.”
“So, how’s Ronnie?” he asks, changing the subject once again to something lighter.
“She’s wonderful. She’s my girlfriend now,” I proudly state, smiling.
“That’s amazing, Trevor,” Dad replies with a huge grin. “Have you told her that you love her?”
The Blessing (The Colorado Series Book 1) Page 21