Chapter 25
"S weetheart! This is a nice surprise."
Seeing my mom on the other side of the door brought a brief reprieve from the agony that had been constantly plaguing me. My mom was my hero. A fierce single momma who took no shit from anyone.
She also loved and adored Frankie, so this was going to be fucking hard. I couldn't bear to see the inevitable disappointment on her face. Nowhere near the verbal ass-kicking I'd been giving myself lately, though.
"Mom, can I come in?" I could barely raise a smile.
Her brow pulled down at my dejected tone. "Of course." She ushered me in before peering behind me. "Where's Frankie?" Her brow furrowed further as she searched my face. "And why do you look sick?"
I couldn't speak. I couldn't even look her in the eye. I wasn't sick in the traditional sense, but I sure was heartsick.
Delaying my answer, I moved to the living room and sat on the sofa. My limbs felt heavy and tired, my eyes gritty. I desperately needed sleep, but everytime I closed my eyes, images of my wife in bed with another man tormented me.
My eye caught on the huge photo that hung pride of place above the fireplace. A picture of Frankie and I on our wedding day. Her dad and my mom were standing proudly beside us, our smiles wide. I dropped my head, unable to stand looking at it any longer without feeling sliced by regret and grief. I breathed deeply through the heartache.
Mom placed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in front of me before sitting in her armchair opposite. "Well? Where's Frankie? Not that I'm not glad to see you, son, but I haven't seen my daughter in a while."
Oh, Christ. I was going to bawl like a baby in my mom's arms. From the moment Frankie and I had started dating—and I let mom know that she was The One—mom had started referring to her as her daughter. And Frankie called her Mom. Frankie's mom had passed away from cancer when she was fourteen, so I knew how much it meant to her to have a second mother. I'd taken that away from her.
"Son?"
"Mom–" My voice broke, and I shook my head, unable to continue. I was so ashamed of myself. I never told my mom that Frankie and I had separated. I didn't want to worry her; plus I'd always envisioned sorting my shit out. The very real fear of losing Frankie had been too much to contemplate. Now, that fear was my reality.
"Frankie's back home." I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "Living with Nellie."
Mom leaned forward. "She's what?"
Instead of explaining, I blurted out, "Frankie’s pregnant."
This time I looked at her. Mom's eyes popped open in excited wonder, and she clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, finally! You're giving me grandbabies."
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Oh, God. Knowing I was going to break my mom's heart was a feeling I never wanted to experience again. Although not as excruciating as the look on Frankie's face when I shredded her faith in me. And possibly her love.
"Drew? What's going on? And why is Frankie living with Nellie if she's having your baby?"
A strangled sound escaped me. "Mom…Mom, I fucked up."
The whole sorry story tumbled out of me. For the first time, I confessed to my mom that I didn't want kids. I thought, naively, that I'd change my mind for Frankie. But the older we became, and the closer we both moved towards settling down and becoming adults with jobs, bills, and responsibilities, the more pressure I felt. Frankie had her dream career and was pushing to start a family. Meanwhile, I kept pushing her away.
And then there was Carly. As if I hadn't fucked up enough already. Telling mom about Carly was difficult. My eyes couldn't meet hers, and a flush climbed my cheeks. I was ashamed and embarrassed. I couldn't bear to see her look of disappointment.
I was tempted to minimize my involvement with Carly, but I needed to be honest. I needed to finally do the one thing my wife had begged me to do. Be honest.
And I was. Painfully so.
Watching my mom's face cloud over in shock and then disappointment made me feel two feet tall. But I wanted to get it all out. Had to.
"So after our counseling session, I confessed everything to Frankie and asked for a separation."
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, you initiated the separation?"
I nodded. My jaw ached from grinding my teeth. "I was guilty and confused. I thought maybe I needed space to figure out what I wanted, and I couldn't always do that with Frankie in my space." I didn't tell her that I was petrified that Frankie would give up on our marriage anyway. There were too many obstacles working against me. Obstacles that I had placed there.
My mom raised a brow. "Figure out what you wanted or who you wanted?"
My cheeks flamed again. "I thought both at first. But once I moved out -"
"And where did you go?" Her sharp tone had my head snapping up.
"To Sene's. Jeez, Mom, you don't think I moved in with Carly?"
Her disgruntled silence spoke volumes.
"As soon as I moved out, I knew I’d made a mistake. But I still had a lot of shit to figure out. It wasn't just the kids; it was a lot of resentment and failure."
Her head tilted. "What do you mean?"
I scrubbed my face, hoping to eliminate some of the shame and anger I felt. "We both have steady jobs, yet saving up for a deposit is taking so long. Her dad wanted to gift us money but I turned him down. She's also living her dream job, yet I'm stuck in this corporate bullshit."
My mom's face softened, and she got up from her chair to sit beside me. She gathered me in her arms, and I melted into my other safe space, other than Frankie. "My prideful boy," she murmured. "That was always something you struggled with. You took stuff on that you shouldn't have and refused to ask for help." She pulled back to look at me. "Does your not wanting kids have something to do with what happened with your father?"
My jaw pulsed before I nodded. Mom clicked her tongue and smoothed my hair in a calming gesture that warmed me. "That man." She shook her head. "You had to deal with adult problems that shouldn't have touched you. I wish I protected you –"
"It wasn't your fault. I should've told you what he was doing. But a lot of his shit…the more I grew up, the more I wondered if I would turn out like him. A deadbeat."
She scoffed in disbelief. "You could never be like that!"
"I would never leave Frankie like that, no. But I always wondered if I would make a good dad. Whether I could settle for suburban dad life or whether I would always be itching for the next adventure. Whether I would feel that paternal bond that had been missing."
"But…Frankie's pregnant," she started.
My heart sank at the reminder. I rubbed my hands up and down my thighs, shifting uncomfortably. "Mom. Please promise you'll listen to what I have to say until I finish. And in the end, you can't be mad at Frankie. None of this is her fault. Please don't judge her."
"Oh, my God," my mom's voice quivered slightly.
"Frankie's pregnant. But not with my child."
She closed her eyes, and her chest inhaled deeply, holding for a few seconds before she exhaled slowly. Her eyes opened, their brown depths glassy. "Tell me," she finally said.
I was painfully honest again. I had to be. If I didn't tell the story in full, my mom would miss the nuanced details that would enable her to realize that, even though my wife had slept with another man and fallen pregnant by him, she was in no way at fault here. When I came to the part where I had dinner with Carly, mom's quiet sigh was all I needed to know. I wanted to blame Carly for posting that photo and for that stupid hashtag she put, but I could see how Carly would view our dinner that way. As a date night.
Admitting that I briefly kissed Carly back also pulled a few noises from my mom, but she otherwise remained silent. I told her how I’d felt when Frankie broke the news to me, how it shattered me. How devastated and angry I was. And my poor choice of words—spoken in the broken and jealous aftermath of what she’d revealed to me.
"And then she told me she was moving out the next day, in with Nellie. That was a month ago. I haven't spoken to her since."
We sat in silence, both of us processing the emotional dump I’d just laid on my mom. It was the first time in a month that I relived that horrible moment in our kitchen. I couldn't even walk in there without remembering how I felt, and how Frankie looked and sounded as she uttered those words.
"Well," mom sighed heavily. Because, at that moment, what else could you say? "Do you mind if I call her?"
I glanced at her, my eyes narrowing in warning.
She raised her hand at me, shaking her head. "Only to see how she's doing, son. I can only imagine what the poor girl is going through as a single soon-to-be mom."
A single mom. That sentence hit me hard. Frankie was single. She was pregnant and single. But would she do this alone? She had Nellie and her dad…but what about him? I immediately pushed my thoughts away from going down that lane. Thinking about him made me think about that. That moment Frankie turned to him for comfort. I wanted to purge my mind from it. I wanted to go back to a time before she told me. When I thought everything might be okay.
When I still had Frankie.
"Do you still love her?"
I was thankful she didn't lay into me. I'd already had enough of that from Sene. From Nellie. From myself. She already knew I was beating myself up over it. She knew without prodding that I had so many regrets. She also knew that her question was rhetorical.
Did I still love Frankie?
"Madly," I rasped.
That would never change.