The Color of Us

by Jessica Park

“Yeah. I got it.”

  “So, now, let’s go have fun. I can’t even remember the last time that I did anything totally fun, so let’s go have some drinks and enjoy ourselves.”

  “I don’t know who you are or what you’ve done with my serious mother, but I’ll take it.” Then, I make her pose while I snap photos of her and text them to my sister.

  As we walk down the stairs, she beams. “Honestly? I think I’m the old me again. A me without your father, but the me he taught me to be. I feel lighter than I have in years. As though I had ten years of therapy packed into a few days.”

  “I like that for you.”

  Matteo is our designated driver for the night, and he picks us up and chauffeurs us to the bar, wooing my mother with his accent as she asks prods him for stories about his life in Italy. Mary Ann ushers us in with her usual high energy, announcing that there are shots waiting for us.

  And we drink and dance, and my mom doesn’t embarrass me. She just talks to my friends and asks questions. She gets to know them.

  And the night is utterly perfect.

  Until it isn’t.

  Until the bomb that I’ve been waiting for hits.

  thirty-seven

  While I might have been uneasy when my mom and Danny were talking earlier, I’m less so now because when I sit beside them, he’s showing her pictures on his phone of the face painting that he’s done, and she is as inquisitive as I’ve been about his talent, so I sit back and watch them with ease. It’s not hard to see that she genuinely likes him, and he’s already comfortable enough with her that he puts his arm over my shoulders.

  “This is one of Callie’s favorites.” The detailed octopus covers his client’s face and then runs down his neck with the legs and tentacles eventually winding over the man’s torso. “Over eight hours to do this.”

  “My God, you are talented.” My mom swoons. “And patient.”

  She asks him about his construction work and then praises him for the quality of everything he did to help make my house shine.

  “Thank you, but Callie chose everything in that house. It’s all her transformation. We just did the grunt work.” He rubs my back.

  “Except for the lighting,” I point out. “I needed you for that.”

  “Barely. I can’t wait to see the pendants installed, but we have to wait for the tin ceiling tile to finish things off.”

  “Tin ceiling tiles?” My mom raises her eyebrows. “That’s going to bring that kitchen to another level. Well done, Callie.”

  Danny slaps a hand on the table. “Right? Paul and I were pretty skeptical about a few things at first, but she’s never made a wrong choice. She’s just more daring than most of us are.”

  “And her food, right?” My mom continues this weird lovefest. “Another talent of hers. I haven’t been this full and happy in Lord knows how long.”

  Danny laughs. “Yeah, you and everyone else in Wake.”

  “How did you learn to cook like this?” Mom knocks back the rest of her drink and leans in.

  “Accidentally finding all of my grandmother’s recipes inspired me to start.” Then, I explain about my furious recipe researching, video watching, and trials and errors. “I don’t really know. But I have so much fun with it.”

  “And it shows.” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “You should be very proud.”

  After, she makes her way around the table and talks to Jackson, Mary Ann, Matteo, and Slow, and I’m touched. She wants to get to know my friends.

  The music picks up, signaling that it’s dance time, and when Paul Simon’s “Cecilia” blasts through the room, my mom hops up, grabs a reluctant Paul, and drags him to the center of the crowd.

  “Dancing with Paul to Paul!” she shouts.

  “Oh God.” I plant my face in my palm. “Those two drinks seem to have hit her.”

  “Maybe my two drinks have hit me as well,” he says with a wry smile.

  Before I know it, he’s got his hips moving against me to the rhythm while he grins and sings along about making love in the afternoon.

  “Danny! My mom is here!”

  “And she’s not paying any attention.”

  It’s true. When I catch sight of her, she is bopping around and belting out lyrics, making Paul roll his eyes. Yet he keeps dancing—with more style than I would have expected—while watching her every move.

  I cringe. “Ew! Danny, ew! Are they … flirting?”

  “Maybe.” He pivots my sight away from them. “Who cares? They’re having fun, and they both deserve it.”

  After another five or six songs, everyone in our group has hit the floor, most of us boozy and all of us wild and full of life. We crash back to our table and order another round of drinks. It feels as though the joy that seeps from all of us feels impenetrable.

  Until it’s not. Until it’s shattered.

  There’s a moment in which my mom looks up, her gaze just over my shoulder. Undeniably, her expression changes, and her mood plummets.

  Before I can figure out what’s upsetting her, she sets her hand on my boyfriend’s shoulder. “Danny?” The tone in her voice cuts through the blaring music and makes me freeze.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?” I push my drink aside.

  She says simply and coldly, “Andie is here.”

  Danny visibly tenses, but he doesn’t move. Everyone at the table hears her, and no one looks pleased.

  “Guys, it’s fine.” His attempt at a smile and casual attitude are hard to watch. “It’ll be nice to catch up and hear how she’s been after all of her traveling.”

  None of us moves, not until she finds our table and claps her hands and beams. “What a happy run-in! Danny? Paul? So great to see you. And, Cindy? Wow. I wasn’t expecting to see you too. It’s been so long.”

  I catch Paul’s eye, and the anger that radiates from him is powerful. Then, he and my mother exchange looks as she makes a move to get up, and almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head, so she stays in her seat and takes a long drink.

  Andie is dressed in what I envision asshole-artist perfection looks like. Her hair in a sloppy yet also perfect bun. Printed wide-leg pants and a sheer, silky top. “I’ve got an art show in Burlington coming up, so I’m in town for some press stuff. Thought I’d stop into Wake. I’ve been curious about how everyone is doing.”

  Danny is frozen, and I don’t blame him.

  I set a hand on his lower back. “Did you know that she was coming to town?”

  “Not a clue.” The beer in his glass is gone within a heartbeat. “But it’s great. I’m happy to see her.” His voice says otherwise, but he plasters on a smile.

  She holds out her hands toward her son, and it’s all I can do not to throw myself in front of him and try and shield her from what I now see as a more toxic force than I feared. “How about you buy your mother a drink? We can catch up, and I can tell you about this tour I’m on.”

  Slowly, he stands. “Hi, Mom.” The hug they share is horribly awkward.

  After they leave, Paul holds up a hand. “No one is to say anything. This isn’t going to end well, and yapping about it now won’t help.” He orders another round of drinks for the table.

  As much as we all try not to, we each sneak peeks at the two as they talk at the bar, but Danny’s back is to us, so all we see is his mom’s animated gestures. Andie then starts to make rounds throughout the rest of the room and chats up everyone for a few minutes at a time, seemingly without any clue that she is not welcome. That she is hated, I now see.

  It’s about ten minutes after she leaves him at the bar that he walks outside and I follow. I find him just around the corner from the entrance.

  “Hey.” Tentatively, I approach him. “You okay? That must have been a surprise to see your mother.”

  “Yeah, it was.” It’s a relief when he stretches out an arm and beckons me in, swinging his arm over my shoulders and holding me against his side. “Sounds as though she’s doing well. Her art tour is a big hit. Lots of rave
reviews.”

  “That’s good.”

  But I wait.

  I wait for reality to hit. I wait for the pain to hit.

  Because she is not the woman he’s made her out to be. Not the mother he’s described or the one he deserves. I’ve heard hints of her neglect, but witnessing her behavior, her words, and the effects of her toxicity tonight are much harder than I could have conceived.

  Finally, he lowers his head and lets out a long sigh. “Seeing me was a run-in. Seeing me wasn’t her goal. She was just curious.”

  While I am holding this hurt boy close, raised voices come from nearby, just outside the bar. It’s my mom and Andie.

  “Mothers don’t leave! They don’t fucking leave!”

  Danny lifts his head. “That’s your mom.”

  He’s right. Her voice is probably echoing across this small town, but she doesn’t seem to care.

  “And they don’t get to show up after years and act like they’re not the worst piece of shit ever. What you’ve done to that sweet boy is unconscionable.”

  “I had a career to pursue. My glassblowing caught the eyes of so many important reviewers so early on, and not everyone gets that. I had success to chase, and it paid off. It’s not like no one was watching out for him.”

  “And that’s my mom,” he says quietly.

  Andie sounds absolutely perplexed by the accusations, the total truths, thrown at her. Zero understanding or responsibility.

  I can hardly believe it. Nor can Danny.

  We both flinch and tighten our hold around each other as my mother unleashes. “Other people watching out for him? That’s the baseline that you wanted for your kid?”

  “Look how great he’s doing. He’s a wonderful young man.” Andie’s reaction is too calm. And so sickening and heartbreaking.

  “Yeah,” my mother spits out. “Despite you. Despite how you abandoned him.”

  Danny moves us around the corner, ignoring my nonverbal protests, but he wants to see this conversation.

  “I have made countless mistakes with my kids,” my mom says. “But at least I am working on being a better mother. At least I’m trying to repair the damage I’ve caused. Because I want connection. I want relationships. I want all of us to heal from the hurt. You haven’t tried at all, have you? Why don’t you care?” She’s screaming now and stepping toward Andie.

  Paul emerges from inside the bar and reaches out to pull her back. “Cindy, that’s enough. She’s not worth it.”

  I silently applaud her as she pushes him aside, but still, he manages to grab her around the waist and keeps her from getting too close.

  “No, it’s not enough, Paul, and you know it.” She refocuses on Andie, ignited with rage, and asks again, “Why the fuck don’t you care? About your perfect, beautiful, creative, caring, giving son? Why?” she demands. “What is wrong with you?”

  Andie tosses up her hands. “The truth? That pregnancy was just something that happened, but it wasn’t something I’d ever hoped for. I never really wanted to be a mother.”

  My mother would throw daggers if she could. “Congratulations, Andie. You never were.” She stands tall as Paul lets her go, and she walks with force until she’s inches away from Andie. She speaks a truth that I realize no one else will voice. “He’s not your son. He never has been. He’s Wake’s son. Our son. But never yours.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Andie’s response lacks the kind of emotion anyone would hope to see.

  Danny almost collapses in my hold. Hearing him nearly choke on words that he will never recover from, seeing his disbelief and the tears in his eyes—it’s maybe almost as bad as the moment that I lost my father.

  Now, Paul moves in like a bear, and Andie backs up.

  “Leave,” he orders. “Get the hell out of here. And don’t ever come back.”

  “Paul—” she starts.

  “I am not screwing around. Leave for good this time. You’re not welcome in Wake anymore. We will never let you put our kid through this again.” His tone sends chills through me.

  When she steps away, the turn she takes puts her right in front of us.

  “Danny,” she starts. “I didn’t mean for you to hear—”

  “What? The truth?” he asks, his words shaky and broken.

  Paul is between us within seconds. “You don’t get to talk to him. Not ever again. I swear to God, Andie, walk the fuck away. Now.”

  So, she does. She leaves, but the damage that she delivered is here to stay.

  No one says a word for a while until, finally, Danny raises his head and faces Paul and my mother. “Thank you. Both of you.” Then, he barely squeezes my hand. “I have to go.”

  Before I can stop him, Danny has charged toward his truck and is off, and I’m left, helpless on the sidelines as my shattered boy tries to flee from the undeserved and unprocessed neglect.

  But just as I’m about to drown into the reality that there’s nothing I can do, Matteo’s car races up, nearly slamming against the curb. “Get in. We go to our Danny.”

  Without question, I hop into the front seat and buckle myself in. “You heard?” I ask.

  “We all heard,” Mary Ann says from the backseat, visibly shaking. “She is worse than I thought. Crazier and more neglectful. I didn’t realize.”

  Sitting beside her, Slowski is as distraught and shaken as the rest of us. “Cruel,” he states pointedly. “She’s cruel. And sick.”

  “He didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want to know,” I say. “And now that we’ve all seen how awful she is, I don’t blame him for running.” I roll down the window because I need air so desperately. “But should we give him space right now?”

  I really have no idea, but Mary Ann does.

  “No,” she says firmly. “It’s like when he found me in my crisis. I didn’t know that I needed anybody, but I did. He needs us to get him through this. Just to know we are here.”

  Matteo flies down the road, but when we get to Danny’s house, all the windows are dark.

  “I have a key,” I tell them. “It’s worth a try.” My quick walk-through shows me that it’s empty, except for Shallots. “C’mon, buddy. Let’s go find your dad.”

  After I load the dog into Matteo’s truck, I know where to go.

  “Matteo, back up,” I say urgently.

  “Why?” But he does as I asked.

  I hang my head out the window and look around. “Turn in here.”

  “To the greenhouse?” Slowski asks. “Why?”

  “Just turn,” I plead. “Just drive over the grass.”

  “She’s right,” Mary Ann says sharply. “Take the turn. Here! Callie, go!”

  Even before we slam to a stop and upload dirt, I have the door open. My legs tremble as I rush to the greenhouse.

  I’m only minutes too late.

  Shards of color rain down as Danny takes a baseball bat and smashes his mother’s ornaments over and over again. I try to rush in, but glass fragments are flying about too much. Tears fall as I call his name and beg him to stop, but in the end, all I can do is bear witness. He keeps his head low to shield his face, but he doesn’t stop until his bat finds nothing else to break. Finally, he throws the bat to the side, having destroyed everything he can.

  “I’m here, Danny.” My voice breaks, but I at least mange to get out the words.

  He’s breathing hard when he finally turns and looks me in the eye, and my heart shatters because only hours ago, he felt whole, happy, and full of life—loved enough to pretend that he also didn’t feel as abandoned and rejected as he knew he was.

  It only took a short time with Andie to make pretending impossible.

  “You might as well leave me, too, because you’ll realize how unworthy I am. How I’m the actual nobody that you thought you were.”

  “Never,” I state unequivocally.

  We both walk forward, and when we reach each other, he simply drops to his knees as his arms encircle my waist, and he lets himself cry for what I
suspect is the first time. The sound of his agony is not something that I’d wish on anyone, and hearing it from him is excruciating.

  When I lower myself to the grass, my arms go around his neck, and he falls against me. Within minutes, truck doors slam, and our friends move in. The three kneel next to us, and we all grab on to each other, surrounding Danny with love. We hold on and let him sob in the safety of our physical and emotional shield.

  thirty-eight

  Finally, Danny is drained and numb enough to stand and walk back to his house. Matteo and Slow bring him through the front door and into bed, and then Mary Ann gently helps him out of his shoes and shirt before touching his cheek and whispering in his ear. He takes her hand in his and nods.

  “Callie?” she beckons. “Will you stay with Danny tonight? It’s what he wants.”

  “Of course.”

  I shoot my mom a text, letting her know that I won’t be home, and her reply is nothing but understanding.

  When we are alone, I ease off his pants, and we move under the covers, neither of us saying a word until the lights are off and we are both settled in with Shallots snuggled up tightly against Danny’s feet.

  He sighs and rubs his eyes. “I’m so sorry that you had to see all of that. See me like that.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want this to be happening to you, but I want to be here for it. For you.” My head moves to rest against his chest, and I slip my hands under his back.

  “At least it’s done. Over. She’s made everything clear.”

  It’s never over when we first think it is. That’s something I know all too well.

  When his alarm sounds early the next morning, I assume he’s going to shut it down and skip work. Paul would understand. But instead, he snoozes it only once and rolls into me for a snuggle.

  “I shouldn’t be on this job site too late today. Can I come by later? I’d like to see your mom again.”

  Given what he went through last night, he deserves to sleep in and also take a few days off.

  “Sure. Of course.” I’m barely awake enough to reply, but I know that he sounds way too chipper, given what went down last night. Still, I don’t say anything about that.