Chapter 12
Chastity
Nothingin my childhood home has changed.
It’s a brick bungalow on a quiet street, and it feels as unwelcoming as I remember it.
Furniture perfectly arranged and not meant for sitting on, just for appearances. Framed photos of my grandparents, my mom and dad’s wedding portrait, a picture of me as a baby. The carpet is still the same. Burgundy.
I don’t know why I imagined it would all be different. Maybe because if it was so easy to cut me off, they could just as easily change up the house. Out with the old, in with the new. Which doesn’t really make sense. It’s only been five years, and my leaving had nothing to do with their home decor.
But it still feels weird. Like time has stood still. A perfectly clean and curated life that seems devoid of joy, to be honest. Did my parents ever really laugh? Half the reason I was always rebelling and running off to friends’ houses was because my parents” relationship with each other, and with me, was always so restrained, controlled. Full of rules and tests of my behavior.
I wasn’t even a wild child, even though I refer to myself that way. That is just conditioning. I was taught to think I was wild and out of control, when in reality, I was just a normal kid.
“Have a seat,” my mother says awkwardly, gesturing to the couch.
My father declined to be here.
Which tells me everything I need to know. He hasn’t forgiven me. When I don’t even need forgiveness. How ironic is that?
“Thanks. How are you?” I ask my mother, genuinely curious and concerned. She looks…tired. She also keeps glancing at her phone and the front door.
“Oh, I’m hanging in there.” But my mother sits down across from me, heavily. She grimaces like she’s in pain.
My parents were a little older when they had me, but they’re still only in their early sixties. She should look perkier than she does. “Mom, are you sure? You don’t seem like yourself.”
My mother was always a little caustic, but she downright snaps at me now. “Well, now how would you know if I seem like myself or not? You haven’t seen me in years.”
I’m shocked. It feels like a slap in the face. As if I walked out in a selfish flounce. “That wasn’t my decision. That was yours.”
Suddenly, there are tears in her eyes, and she sighs. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” She lifts a shaky hand and places it on my knee. “I didn’t mean…I never wanted…” Now she’s full-on sobbing. “It’s just…”
She can’t seem to bring herself to finish a sentence, and I realize it’s because she doesn’t want to condemn or speak ill of my father. It confirms to me that she was following my father’s lead.
“Dad doesn’t know I’m here, does he?” That’s why she keeps glancing at the door. He’ll be angry with her if he knows.
She shakes her head. “No. I just wanted to see you. I had to know you’re okay, Chastity. You look beautiful.”
I stand up and then squat down and give her a hug with a big sigh. “Oh, Mom…you should be able to see me if you want to.”
In that moment, I forgive her. Fully and completely. Throughout my life, she let my father dictate everything about their lives, and it just makes me feel sad for her.
“You don’t understand.”
“No, I really don’t. That’s true. But I won’t come around anymore. I don’t want to get you into any sort of trouble with Dad. And I will not expose my son to this kind of dynamic. You’re afraid of your husband, Mom. That’s not cool.”
“You don’t know anything about marriage.”
This is why it’s hard to feel sympathetic toward her. When she feels cornered by my father, she lashes out at me. “No, I don’t. But I do know being afraid of my partner is no way to live.”
“I’m not afraid of your father. It’s complicated.”
“Okay.” I refuse to argue with her. It’s her life. But that’s the thing. It’s not mine. I return to the sofa and sit down and wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t.
I sigh. “Look, I love you because you’re my mother, and I know you love me, but this isn’t about me anymore. It’s about Josiah. I moved back here to try to see if we can have a relationship and because I want to raise my son in a small town, but I have to protect him from this negativity.”
“Negativity?” She seems startled by the phrase.
“Yes. Dad bossing us around and us having to obey. It’s not healthy.”
“Does that mean I can’t see him?” My mother doesn’t even bother to wipe her tears, which unnerves me.
She was always so put together. She doesn’t seem put together now. She seems broken.
“You can’t see my son. I’m sorry.” I’m not even sure I feel sad about that. Maybe sad for my parents for what they’re missing out on, but no longer sad for me. Not even sad for Josiah. I don’t actually want them to have any influence on him at all. He knows true, deep, unconditional love from me, from Nevaeh, from Miss Loretta.
He’s a happy, healthy, confident little boy, and they have the power to erode that, just like they did with me. And that’s a hell no. I will never let that happen.
The most important thing in my life is protecting my son.
My mother nods. “I understand. I’m proud of you. You’re stronger than me.”
It feels like years, and the weight of expectations, have just been lifted off of me. “I am strong. Life is good, Mama. Try enjoying it for once.”
She doesn’t say anything. She just sits there in her chair, ignoring her damp cheeks, staring down at the carpet.
With that, I get up and leave the house, slowly closing the door behind me.
I feel…free.
Beautifully, gloriously free of shame, censure, guilt, and longing.
There’s nothing for me in that house, and that’s okay.
I pull my phone out as I head to my car to see if I have any texts from Nevaeh, but instead it’s several dating app notifications and a text from Hank.
I open the text first, which I instantly realize is revealing. I care more about communicating with him than random guys I don’t know.
Looked into pee wee football. Conway is a volunteer coach, so we can get Josiah on his team, which Conviction is now sponsoring. Might have gotten carried away.
That makes me laugh out loud. That’s very Hank. He’s definitely an all-in kind of guy.
That sounds amazing. Thank you.
I add a kiss emoji at the end, then panic and delete it before I send the text. I send kiss emojis to my friends all the time, but it could give Hank a mixed message.
That I want to kiss him.
Which I do.
But I can’t because I told him I wouldn’t bring up anything sexual.
We’re just friends.
Exactly the way I want it.
Though I’m not sure when and why I ever said that.
How did seeing your parents go? You okay?
That warms my heart. Hank is much sweeter than anyone has given him credit for. He and I are alike that way—constantly told we’re something we’re not. I slide into my car and shut the door behind me. I glance back at my childhood home.
My father no-showed but I’m good. Seriously. Letting it go.
I add a yoga position emoji.
I’m here if you need anyone to talk to.
Starting my car, I smile at his latest text.
Thank you.
My screen lights up. It’s Hank calling.
“Hello?”
“I also just got a shipment of fresh oysters to experiment with if you’re interested in being a part of my test kitchen.”
I have him on speaker so I can drive, and I grimace, then wonder if I grimaced too loud. It’s a sweet offer. But…oysters? The thought makes me shudder. “I don’t think I like oysters.”
“You don’t like them, or you haven’t tried them?”
“Both.”
Hank laughs. “It can’t be both. Get your ass over here.”
“Get my ass where?” A notification appears on the top of my phone screen. Another message from the dating app.
Josiah is with Nevaeh, but I know she has plans to meet up with one of her own dating app matches later.
“My place. Oysters. Bring Josiah if you need to. I need a wide test audience.”
“You want a four-year-old to try oysters?”
“Why not? Kids are bougie as hell these days.”
“Maybe tourist kids in New Orleans, but not my kid. He’ll probably gag. I’ll probably gag.”
“We’re not talking about you. We’re talking about him. And if you try it, he’ll be willing to try it. It’s all about being open to new experiences.”
He has me there. “If I need to spit it out, are you going to be offended?”
There’s a pause, and I realize about a heartbeat too late how that sounds. Hank gives a choked laugh. “You can always spit over swallowing, Chas. That’s your right.”
I groan. “This is why I can’t be allowed to roam free on a dating app.”
“It’s funny when we’re just friends. I would call any friend out and give them a hard time about a comment like that. Don’t worry about it.” He adds, “Bring Nevaeh too.”
“She has a date.”
“Tell her to bring her date. I’ll tell Conway to come over too. A free tasting party.”
It does sound fun. Casual. “Okay. We’ll be there.”
After we end the call and I pull into my driveway, I check my notifications. Chad has messaged me again, which is ridiculous. I don’t think I could have made it any clearer I’m not interested. I ignore him.
There’s a message from Dylan confirming our dinner plans.
I’ve also made plans for a coffee meet-up with Nick, the guy Hank thought was too young, but who is my age.
I respond to Dylan, “Looking forward to it!”
But I’m not sure I am.
Yet I’m oddly looking forward to an evening of oyster tasting with friends and my son.