24. Trial
Igive in to my brother’s constant attempts to get me to come home for the weekend. Tamara struck a nerve at the pier the other day. Made me feel guilty about pushing David away as well as avoiding reality. But this will also be my first time home since moving on to campus. I am biting one hell of a bullet and still know I am not prepared for this conversation. The divorce announcement.
Something else I was not considering was the wrath of Brandy Finster when she found out I went to the Santa Monica Pier via Tamara’s Instagram post. She posted it on Tuesday, and I’m surprised I’m still alive to tell the tale. What makes it worse is that her anger only piled on to what she had when I called her a slut…or said that she was acting like a slut.
“I’m just wondering,” Brandy says as I throw a bunch of clothes in a duffel bag. “Were you even planning on telling me you went?”
“No,” I say simply.
“Why not?” she whines. “Aren’t we party buddies?”
“This was not a party,” I say calmly. “Tamara invited me, and it was nice not to have an agenda, okay?” I zip my duffel and go to the bathroom to retrieve my toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Whatever. You might have mentioned your picture with Mikey.”
“Why would I do that?”
Brandy throws something on her bed aggressively. “Is this all because of the frat party? I told Cameron about the list?” She’s not looking at me when she says this.
“Yeah, kind of. You have no idea how angry he is.”
She turns to look at me, leaning against her bed, hands resting on the mattress. “Because of a list?”
“No! Because that night he said he fucking loved me and then learns that I had sex with Mikey, so thanks for that.”
“He would have found out.”
“Sure. If I told him. Only him and not you and a billion other people. Brandy, it’s humiliating for both of us.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? But you embarrassed me too.”
I fill another bag and kick it to the side. “I’m not going to apologize for trying to get you off the table. Sorry it embarrassed you, but I’d do it again.”
Brandy and I just look at each other for a long moment. “Even?” she asks.
“Not really,” I tell her. “But whatever. I just need him to chill enough to listen to me.”
A mischievous grin pulls at Brandy’s lips. “Oh, we can solve that problem.”
Once David and I pull up to our house, multiple emotions rise and form a giant lump in my throat. Fear. Anxiety. Dread.
David pulls his key out of the ignition and sighs. “Whatever happens, please just don’t make things harder than they need to be. Stay calm and don’t freak out.”
I turn my head to see him. His tone sounds like he was speaking to me. The bob of his throat and that fact that he’s staring straight ahead to the house window makes me feel like he’s talking to himself. But that would mean he cares about the separation of our parents, and up to this point he has seemed quite relaxed about it all.
We say nothing more as we retrieve our overnight bags and walk to the front door. The familiar bushes and cobblestone walkway send a chill of yearning through my body. Longing for a time when everything was simple. When my parents were happily married.
The door opens before we even knock or have a chance to pull out our keys. My mother appears with a smile.
“Hello. Come inside,” she says.
We walk into the living room where my dad resides. He quickly stands up when he sees us.
“How are you?” he asks. “How has school been?”
I force a smile. “It’s been good. Some friends and I went to the pier the other day. It was a lot of fun.”
I ignore the look from my mom and admire the approving one on my dad’s face. “Santa Monica? Remember when we used to go in the summer all the time?”
“Yeah.” I let out a nervous laugh but do my best to push down the negative thoughts. “Hasn’t changed a bit.”
Why is it that this was our home for my entire life, yet today it feels like we’re guests. It doesn’t matter that I used to lie on that couch and binge-watch Disney as a kid or that I used to do cartwheels across this floor until I was fifteen. Today it’s all foreign. Has it always been this awkward to talk to my dad? This hard to make eye contact with my mom?
“Why don’t you drop your things in your rooms and come back out,” my mom says.
I follow orders and shove the ajar door open with my elbow. I toss my stuff aside and face-plant on my bed, hugging the comforter close to me. This is the day they change our lives forever. This is when they tell us they are leaving each other, and Mom will win. She’ll be free now to have as much sex as she pleases…with other guys that are not my dad. Screw this. Screw today.
David knocks on my door. “You need to hold it together. You need to last this weekend.”
I groan into my pillow.
“Please,” he adds, then leaves.
I roll to face the ceiling. At this moment, the one moment I should have this person off my mind, I think of Cameron. Are his parents divorced? Has he felt this dread before too? It’s disgusting how little I really know about his family. That needs to be fixed. As soon as possible.
When we meet our parents in the living room, they have prepared us each a cup of hot tea. Why? I don’t like tea. What the hell is this? They are being weirdly cheerful and formal with us. David takes the tea and sits in the corner of our sectional. I reach for it and set it on the coffee table, and sit. Our parents turn to face us oddly in unison. Then it begins.
“The last thing we want to do is bombard you with this first thing,” starts my mom.
“But that’s what you’re doing.”
“Lainey, please,” my father pleads. “I know you are aware of what we’re going to say. I need both of you to just listen. We can answer any questions you may have at the end.”
“Okay, Professor,” David remarks.
If he takes offense, my dad does not show it. He envelopes my mom’s hand in his. “Emmy, maybe we should hold off for a little.”
She shakes her head. “That might be worse,” she whispers.
David and I share a glance. “Get it over with,” I say. “Rip off the bandage.”
My foot begins its anxious tapping on the hardwood floor. “Your father and I have talked?—”
“Can’t he speak for himself?” I ask, intentionally sounding crass. “I don’t think you should speak for him.”
My dad exhales and scratches the back of his neck. “Your mother and I sat down and hashed this entire thing out. Once you told me, Lainey”—a glance to my mom—“that my wife wanted to leave me, I knew that things had come to a head. We’ve had fights about me working, but I kept telling myself our love would be enough.”
My mother picks up. “I adore your father, which is why it kills me to have so little time with him. And if I am honest, I have begun to resent him for that. It’s not fair. I’d rather be apart and fond of each other than be together and hold that against him. I felt it coming and needed to do something about it. I hope you will understand, at least in the future.” She looks directly at me when saying the last sentence.
“The last thing I would want,” my dad says, “is for the person I love to look at me with any kind of regret.”
“Then quit your job,” David blurts.
Surprisingly, my dad responds calmly as if David is not being a complete douchebag. “If I did that, son. I would resent her. A career is not more important, but that is not the solution. Not at this point in our lives.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I keep my focus on David’s face. His flaring nostrils, unblinking eyes. He looks angry. Somewhat panicked. It’s about time. If he feels my stare, he does nothing about it.
“I need you both to focus on me for this next part,” my mom says, pulling our attention. She sucks in air through her nose and exhales through her mouth. After giving one last glance to our dad, she opens her mouth to speak. Before any words escape her, my dad lays a hand on her arm. “Brandon, I can do it,” she says.
“Let me be the bad guy on this,” he whispers close to her ear, not great at that, obviously because I can hear every word clearly. He pulls back and makes direct eye contact with me. “This has nothing to do with you.” He’s speaking to me. “This was a mutual decision that required hours and hours of thought. Please, do not be angry with us. We love you.” I nod the slightest bit, and he nods back. He directs the rest of his words to both of us. “Your mother and I have decided to separate. I will move out, and we can take some time away.”
I swallow an odd feeling of relief but also dread. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means the two of us will still be legally married, until we decide when to get a divorce. In the meantime, we’ll live in different places, and if we want…we can date other people.” I know it pained my dad to say that.
My mom leans close to her soon-to-be ex and lays a lingering kiss on his cheek. “I love you forever,” she says against his skin.
Another vibration from my phone that I have to ignore. For the first time since my mom brought up leaving my dad, everything becomes more coherent. Why my mom couldn’t stand to be away from my dad. Why this isn’t better for me but is better for them. None of this is about sex or her not loving my dad anymore. Marriage requires more than simply love to remain sustainable. Even if two people love each other, that alone cannot keep them together.
“Did you tell Mom about the promotion?” David asks, interrupting my epiphany.
My dad rubs at his stubbled chin. “Yes. You know I did. That’s the next point. There’s something about it that I haven’t told you.”
Acid crawls up my throat causing it to tighten like I’m being suffocated. I understand the gist of what he’s about to say before he says it.
“I didn’t tell you because, Lainey, you were so distraught over what your mother had said that I couldn’t add to that, and as I said, I wanted us all to be together.”
I can feel David tense up next to me. “Spit it out, Dad.”
“More money, fewer hours but at their corporate office in New York City.”
You could hear a strand of hair hit the ground with how quiet it gets after that sentence. The fights they had, the ones they mentioned earlier, weren’t just about my mom’s complaining she didn’t get to see him enough, at least not all of them. They were probably about this promotion.
“Fuck this.” David bolts up and rounds the couch.
“David, please sit down,” my mom begs.
I place a hand to my chest to hold my heart inside my body.
“No!” David shouts. “This is bullshit! Both of you are selfish, ridiculous people.”
Both my parents hold back their reaction to that statement, but it bothers me. A lot. I stand up to match my brother’s height. “What is wrong with you?”
“Like you give a shit! All of you…just leave me the hell alone!”
Something is off. I’m the one who freaks out about these things, not him. He’s calm and collected. He’s the peacekeeper. The rational one. The realistic one. There is a sharp pain in my chest when I come to the realization that it was merely a fa?ade. So both of us weren’t acting like tantrum-throwing children. And I’d ignored his existence. I said terrible things to David for defending our mother. Maybe that wasn’t what he was doing. He was trying to keep the peace. He finally exploded. I follow him to his room and don’t even bother knocking before I barge in.
“What’s your deal?” I ask harshly.
He’s leaning over his dresser by the door with both his outstretched arms. “What’s my deal? Are you kidding me? Our parents are getting divorced, and Dad lied to us.”
“It’s just a trial separation.”
His expression is bewildered, and his eyes are wet with tears yet to be spilled. “How can you be okay about this? You were the one who was freaking out about it before.”
“Exactly. I was avoiding it because I never experienced anything like it. Now I understand it more.”
David curses to himself and rakes a frustrated hand through his dark hair. “I wouldn’t have to push everything down if my sister was being a good sister. Talking about this with a friend isn’t the same as talking to you. You made that extra hard for me.”
I should have known he was feeling this burden too, but instead I was acting like he was the bad guy. The villain.
“I’m sorry. To me there was no possible way discussing it could make it better. Just fury.” I laugh nervously as he stares blankly at me. “And I guess I was wrong about…Mom being obsessed with sex.”
He scoffs. “What gave it away?”
His tone is sarcastic, but I still reply. “Mom said she’d love Dad forever. The way they looked together.”
“Did you realize you’re not the all-knowing Lainey Coleson you thought you were?”
I respond with an eye roll, and I offer a shrug. “How the hell would I understand anything about love or relationships?”
David’s lips twitch, and he walks to sit on his bed. “It’s really not all that great, anyway. It doesn’t equal happiness. Our parents being a wonderful example.”
“It also means that even apart, love can remain intact.” I meet my brother’s eyes. “It’s one of the strongest forces on earth.”
At that, David raises an eyebrow, confused by my change of heart and sudden wisdom.
“But even it can’t solve all our problems.,” he finishes for me, looking down. I shrug. David’s eyes narrow, and he laughs silently to himself.
“Cameron’s a lucky guy,” he says sarcastically.
My cheeks go warm. “Who said anything about Cameron?”
“Is he the reason you abruptly understand Mom and Dad? Because you’re in love with him?” When David looks up, his expression is softer. His muscles are more relaxed, and his lips tilt upward.
I try to contain my shock at his statement and fail. I shake my head like a child as more warmth rushes to my cheeks.
“I really thought you were okay with this.” I change the subject.
“Not at all,” he drawls.
“I would rather have you freak out like me than be so annoying,” I tell him. “At least we could have bonded over something.”
He chuckles. “Noted.”
A third buzz spreads through my lower half, and I finally pull out my phone to see three texts. Two from almost five to ten minutes ago. The last one just now.
Cameron
On Insta… Nice pic of you and Mikey. Very cozy.
Cameron
Okay. Shouldn’t have sent that. I’m sorry.
Cameron
I want to talk. I miss you.
My stomach does a somersault, and I have to resist the urge to tell him that I miss him too. I smile to myself and type out a reply.
Me
Stop worrying about Mikey. There’s nothing there. I’m sorry too. Going through a family crisis rn, we’ll talk later.
There’s another thing I need to tell him that I just cannot type out. Partly because it’s way too big to say over the phone and partly because I need to know if Cameron’s loose mouth was due to mixing substances or his heart momentarily stealing the spotlight from his brain. If he really does “fucking” love me, then maybe that will give me the assurance I need to tell that I’m beginning to feel the same way about him. Because of his kindness, sense of humor, sensitivity, empathy, and reassuring personality. In spite of his flaws, frat boy tendencies, coping mechanisms, and…amazing looks—which isn’t a bad thing. It’s just very distracting.