Chapter 10 #3
My brothers nod politely, a sense of wariness over the mention of her ex.
“But Sophia is doing great in school, and she keeps reminding me she’s not a baby anymore. I live in the past too much, so it’s hard to see sometimes. It causes me some serious control issues.” Sloan laughs and shakes her head.
Belle’s voice is firm when she chimes in next.
“You have control issues because you are the mother of a survivor. Don’t feel bad about that.
I operate on babies in the womb. I see parents lose their children, and that’s not how life is supposed to be.
Children should bury their parents, not the other way around.
You wear your control issues with pride because you still have your Sophia.
You’re an inspiring mother, Sloan. Truly. ”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a teardrop fall down Sloan’s face before she wipes it away quickly. “I don’t feel very inspiring. I feel neurotic most days,” she utters through a garbled laugh.
“You’re not,” I state, my tone fierce and unrelenting as I finally feel compelled to break my silence.
Sloan looks over at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.
Eyes that reach out and grab my throat, making it ache with the need to soothe and take away the pain she has suffered alone.
But I can’t change the past. I can only control the present.
“Don’t feel bad for caring deeply about your child. We should all be so lucky.”
Sloan’s chest quakes and she husks out a quiet, “Thank you,” so only I can hear it.
As if my family can tell we need a minute to collect ourselves, they break away from our conversation and begin talking to each other.
Sloan leans in close to me, her voice trembling when she croaks, “I was going to tell you all of this, I swear.”
I shake my head to silence her. “It’s fine, Sloan.”
She reaches out and grips my fisted hand that’s resting on top of the table.
“It’s not fine. I’m so sorry you had to find out like this, Gareth, and I need you to know that I was going to tell you everything.
But after the attack, there was never a good time.
I was still coming to grips with the fact that you care about me after everything I hid from you. ”
Her eyes cast down with shame and anguish.
I hate it. It reminds me of the person she was after Callum.
Not the person she turned into with me or the woman who ripped her daughter off a football pitch in front of a slew of people.
The pain in her body language has me desperate to pull her onto my lap and kiss away all her worries.
Every last thought, until it’s only me and her in this moment. But it’s not about us right now.
I lift her hand up and press it to my cheek so I can kiss the inside of her palm. “Don’t apologise for this, Sloan. This is bigger than both of us. I’m just glad Sophia is okay, and I’m sorry I pushed you to come here. Had I known—”
“Don’t be sorry,” she cuts me off and runs her thumb along the scruff of my jaw. “I needed to be reminded I have a parachute on and it’s okay to take some risks now and again.”
She smiles and, fuck me, now I really want to kiss her. Take her away from this dinner and thank her for trusting so much of herself with not only me, but my entire family. Instead, I lean across the table, press a gentle kiss on her forehead, and murmur, “Thank you for being here.”
I pull back and she smiles a small smile meant only for me, and our eye contact says so much more than words ever could.
We return to the conversation at the table that’s a great deal lighter now, but I see my father watching us intently. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth is tight, like he’s holding something back.
“Are you okay, Dad?” Vi asks, eyeing him cautiously from her seat right beside him.
“I’m fine. Just fine.” He forces a smile, then slides his gaze to Sloan again. “I’m just having a lot of flashbacks after hearing everything about Sloan’s daughter. What did you say her name is again?”
Sloan clears her throat and replies timidly, “Sophia.”
He smiles. “A beautiful name. I’m so glad she’s doing well now. I’d really love to meet her someday.”
My head pulls back from his comment. If anyone will be meeting Sophia in any capacity, it will be me. Not him.
“I remember when Vilma was sick,” he continues, his eyes still thoughtful on Sloan. “It’s very hard to watch a loved one suffer like that, isn’t it?”
Sloan’s eyes flash over to me, but she turns a polite smile back to my dad. “Yes, it really is.”
“They can seem so helpless. So tortured. And you have to watch them hurt. It’s dreadful, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem fair.”
My entire body is stiff. My posture ramrod straight. What the fuck does my dad know about my mother’s suffering?
“Well, I’m certainly one of the lucky ones,” Sloan answers, shifting nervously in her seat. “So many other moms that I met in the hospital had a much more difficult journey.”
Dad nods heavily. “Was your husband helpful through it all?”
Instantly, I place a reassuring hand on Sloan’s back and whisper in her ear, “Don’t fucking answer that.”
“It’s all right,” she soothes, looking over at me with wide, haunted eyes before turning back to my dad. “My husband was a very busy man. My family helped when they could, but it was mostly just me taking care of Sophia. As hard as it was, I think we’re even closer now as a result.”
Dad has a proud sort of smile spread across his face that has my hands clenching into fists.
“That’s a wonderful silver lining then. Vilma was always such a strong advocate of our family being close.
She used to say that if we didn’t know the size of all our children’s feet, we weren’t paying enough attention to one another. ”
“She did?” Booker asks, his voice high and curious like he’s latching onto this memory of Mum and keeping it all for himself.
I’m actually gutted by his reaction. I can tell him so many more memories about Mum if he really needs them. Real, tangible memories that are hidden deep within me. I just never realised he wanted them so much.
Dad nods his confirmation. “I saw a quote once that an individual doesn’t get cancer, a family does.
And I completely agree. It’s best when family rallies around each other to overcome an obstacle like that.
And even though our Vilma didn’t live through her fight, she would be so happy we’re all here together like this, celebrating her life on a holiday. ”
Vi smiles a wobbly, relieved smile and tears begin slipping from her eyes. Suddenly, Dad reaches over and pulls her into a side hug. I notice the twins also seem touched by our father’s words. I feel as though I’ve entered some sort of dinner theatre that everyone forgot to tell me about.
Is our father forgetting the piles and piles of awful moments that happened leading up to her death?
Has he blocked those out? Am I truly the only one who remembers the way he picked fights with our mother time and time again?
About how he made her cry, then left the room in a huff?
I still remember the time he left her on the floor in the shower because she said something he didn’t like.
He broke our mother’s heart over and over.
And now everyone is hanging on his every word? What the actual fuck?
Dad settles Vi back in her chair, then stands up. He makes his way down the table, directly toward Sloan. My brothers swerve their eyes to me, then to Vi, wondering what the hell is going on. I wish I fucking knew.
Without a word, he moves past me and reaches out for Sloan’s hand. She takes it as he pulls her up out of the chair and…
…hugs her.
He presses her head to his shoulder and hugs her like a father would embrace his daughter.
What the ever-loving fuck is going on?
I hear him whisper into Sloan’s ear, “If there is anything you ever need, we are here for you.”
Sloan’s trembling in his arms, obviously overwhelmed with emotions.
It only aggravates me further, especially when I look around the table and see everyone’s reaction.
They are staring up at him like he is God and they are prepared to follow him blindly.
Never mind that he flooded the earth or sent plagues to entire nations.
Never mind that he made his son die on a cross.
Right now, he’s having a revelation and we should all bask in the glory that is his name.
He pulls away and holds Sloan’s face in his hands. “Unfortunately, we are experienced in painful pasts, so we are well equipped to be there for you in any way you need.”
“What the fuck?” I grind out between clenched teeth, unable to contain my silence a second longer.
Dad and Sloan both turn to look down at me. Sloan’s eyes are wide and wary. Dad’s are innocent and confused when he asks, “What did you say, Gareth?”
I narrow my gaze at him with a slow, menacing shake of my head. “If you’re a bloody expert on painful pasts, then we’re all fucked.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, his hands releasing Sloan as she sits back down in her chair and removes herself from the line of fire.
I stand up, splaying my hands out on the table so I’m eye level with my father. “If you’re going to treat Sloan during hard times the way you treated Mum—the supposed love of your life—then I think she’s better off on her own.”
Dad’s brows lift in challenge, his warm, loving eyes from earlier replaced with a cold, calculating stare. “I assure you, your mother was the love of my life. There’s no doubt about that.”
I bark out an annoyed laugh and shake my head. “And now we’re all supposed to let you talk about those days like they were completely normal? Let you recite uplifting phrases about cancer and life lessons like you’ve learned so much?”
“Gareth,” Vi states my name in warning, looking at me with pleading eyes. She’s begging me to stop, but I can’t stand this anymore. I cannot.