Chapter Forty-Three #2
He was so intuitive—an old soul stuck in a dog.
That thought dislodged a memory of the time when I was eight and got in hot water with the nuns in CCD religion class for refusing to believe that dogs didn’t have souls and wouldn’t go to Heaven.
The nuns had wanted my mom to punish me.
Boy, were they surprised when she took my side, agreeing that dogs most certainly had souls and would go to Heaven. What a mama.
“The last few months have been hard on you,” Kevin whispered. “No matter how happy you are for your dad, I know it’s strange for you that he’s getting married again.”
I felt guilty because he was right. “Planning my dad’s wedding all these months took me back.
Made me keep revisiting the past in a lot of ways.
My parents, the way they fell apart.” I stopped, trying to keep myself from crying again, my emotions surfacing.
Kevin listened in his quiet way, eyes locked on me, not interrupting.
“It still feels a little like I’m betraying my mom, even though that’s silly.
I can’t help thinking of what she went through.
I think of my parents on their wedding day all those years ago, and it just makes me. .. sad.”
I pictured the photos of my mom and dad at the altar the day they got married at St. Bartholomew Church.
They were so young and looked innocent and hopeful.
Did they know they’d fall apart someday?
Did my father have an idea he would betray my mother in order to be himself?
Had she any inkling that the happy marriage she envisioned would crumble?
“I had a feeling.” Kevin hugged me harder and stroked the back of my hair, running a strand through his fingers. “If you weren’t a little sad about your parents now that your dad is tying the knot again, I would think you were in denial.”
Kevin nailed it. I was mourning the demise of my parents’ marriage all these years later.
I needed to take a mental snapshot of the two of them—the younger versions of Frank and Teresa, when they were happy and in love—and hold on to it.
And then put away the rest. What came after was painful, but that wasn’t the entire story of who they were.
“Thank you for understanding,” I said, giving him a weak smile. I wiped my eyes and grabbed for a tissue to blow my nose.
Kevin took in the table, which was littered with the remnants of my earlier trip down memory lane. “Hey, what’s all this?” he asked, gesturing to my mom’s cards, letters, and journal.
“Oh, I finally read my mother’s journal this morning.
The one she kept when she was sick,” I said, and his eyes widened.
“It was calling me. I felt ready after all these years. Especially after my dad and I had our bonding session in San Francisco and he told me his story. I wanted to find out the rest of hers, you know? And here’s the thing.
She forgave him, Kevin—she really did—for what he did to her, to all of us.
And deep down, I’m not surprised. My mother tried not to make us hate our father. ”
“Because that’s not who she was. She didn’t want you and your brother to hate your dad—or who he was.”
“But she made us keep it a secret. That she did.” I hesitated, knowing I had to tell him the rest. “And this is the part of her journal that really surprised me. My mom regretted that. She recognized that she was acting out of fear because of the times and that it forced us all to live a double life. She was sorry for that.” I leaned into him, and he put his arm around me.
“She was doing what she thought was best with an unusual and difficult situation. She wanted to protect you and Anthony. And herself. It couldn’t have been easy for her.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“They had tough choices—both of them. They did what they thought was right. And now... you have the choice to continue that legacy of secrecy or free yourself from holding that all in.”
I thought of how the parental relationship might be the most fundamental and powerful one a person has.
It was probably the greatest single influence on a person’s outlook and who they became.
Most of us spent our lives either trying to live up to our parents’ ideals or actively rebelling against them.
“You mean I don’t need to keep being the former me—trying to fix everything—all while holding back a dam of lies and omissions?” I oozed sarcasm.
Kevin smiled tenderly, and my face crumpled as I felt the sobs returning. I buried my head in his neck while the tears flowed. He held me, rubbing my shoulders in a soothing back-and-forth rhythm.
He lifted my face gently. “Lena, you don’t have to be like them. You can make a different choice.”
Kevin was right. I didn’t have to be like my mother. But it hurt so much. I felt like I was betraying her.
“I always admired your mother. She was a strong woman in so many ways. More than just what happened with your father.” He let that sit between us for a moment. “You take after her. You’re also strong. And you’re more than what happened with your family.”
“Thank you,” I said, managing a small smile. “And I know one choice I never have to second-guess.” I kissed him on the lips then rubbed his nose with mine. “I married the right person.”