Chapter 54
54
S imon headed into the gym. A week had passed since he’d talked to Darcy. He was trying to let her be her own person, but it was difficult.
He’d tried to stay focused at work and respond to things quickly. It wasn’t like he had a girlfriend to take up his time. When he first came home, he’d been angry at the world and at Carlisle. He’d still been coming down off the horrible adrenaline shakes of his fear that his sister was gone.
He was only a block down the street when his phone rang. “Mom!”
He answered happily but then realized it could be bad news. Instead, his mother told him that Darcy's painting had not only sold, it sold for a reasonably professional amount. His Mom was practically giddy. He'd asked about the apartment idea and his mother told him she wasn’t trying to talk Darcy out of it. “I think it's a good idea, just maybe not right now.”
Simon waited at the light. He hadn’t considered that option. He'd been thinking of all of it in terms of yes and no, not some possible in-between that might actually work. “And how did Darcy take that? ”
“Well, she wasn't overly keen.”
“Obviously. I mean, she's?—”
“Darcy.” His mother pointed out and they both had a good laugh. They spent their lives dealing with his headstrong sister. “She and I had a real heart to heart. She hates being constantly monitored. She's in her twenties and she’s right: She should have had her own place before this.”
So should I, Simon thought, but that wasn't the way that their family worked.
His mother continued. “I told her I thought, if she was going to earn her own money, half of it should go toward her medical bills.”
“What? No Mom, she doesn't have to?—.”
“Shut up, Simon.”
Well, how many times had he been told that lately?
This time at least he laughed. “It's okay mom. I don't mind.”
“I don't care if you mind. It's not how it should be.”
But it’s how it was. “I can never repay you, but I can help with this.”
“Please stop with the repaying me. I'm your mother, I knew it from the moment I met you. You owe me nothing. And I hate that we've been so dependent on you to cover these bills and everything. I just couldn’t see another way to do it. But maybe now there is another way.”
“Mom. It isn't just that you adopted me. You gave up the man you loved for me.”
Silence took over the call. He took the next turn and pulled into the parking lot, watching for cars and waiting for her to say something. Anything.
She didn’t. He looked for an open space as his mind wandered. He hadn't gone to see Carlisle, he’d still been too busy sorting things out. He should probably apologize, but why? He couldn't put them back together. The same thing would happen again in the future. Even if it wasn't Carlisle's fault, it would still stretch him to the max. He didn't have room in his life for a family other than the one he already had.
“You mean Stephen?” his mother finally asked.
He nodded into the space of the car as he pulled into a spot just vacated. “I saw how happy he made you.”
“Stephen never made me that happy.”
“Yes, he did, Mom.” Simon put the car in park but didn’t move to get out.
“No. The real Stephen was someone I didn't see. When you finally told me what was going on, it felt like all these pretty dominoes fell over. I finally saw what was really there. Stephen lied to me, to both of us. But you were just a kid, and I should have protected you.”
He tried to interrupt, but his mother rolled over him as if she knew he was trying to protest.
“I was in love with who I thought Stephen was. But you didn't take that away, Stephen did. Stephen destroyed it by never actually being that person. And I?—”
She broke off and then tried again, “I—” She started a third time. “I have never been able to get past the guilt I felt for letting him do that to you in our own home and not seeing it.”
“You couldn't have seen it, Mom. He hid it well.”
“I tell myself that. And I tell myself that we were both victims of a very careful and clever predator, but it doesn't change the guilt.” Then her voice got stronger. “Do not for one second, Simon, think that you destroyed that relationship. I saw that you weren't happy with him. You were before we got married and then after you weren't and so I told myself you would come around and that the family would eventually click. I tried to pull us together instead of paying attention to what made you upset in the first place.”
“That's not on you, Mom.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked, the sound sincere .
He wanted her to feel better, and he did believe it. “Of course.”
“Then I'm going to ask you to really believe me when I tell you that none of it was on you .”
Shit . His mom was good at that. If he wanted her to believe, maybe he needed to try to believe, too. They talked for a few more moments and he hung up. But he sat in the car thinking. The profound reality of that statement settled into his cells.
He considered just leaving, but he was already in his basketball shorts. He was parked and maybe going in and physically working off some of the crazy things going through his system would help.
Grabbing his bag, he said a few hellos to the people he recognized as he made his way into the locker room.
“Hey!” Jax flagged him down and pointed back toward the gym. “They’re starting a game, they need another player. You can pick your team.”
Good timing , Simon thought. A pickup game would definitely occupy his mind and let him sort through all of these bizarre revelations later. Jogging into the gym, he was greeted by cheers and loud comments that they needed him.
“Jax sent me,” he told them with a grin. At least this part felt genuine. And he wouldn't have to process anything, at least not for a little while. Erasing all the hard-to-sort-through thoughts, he stayed as they gathered up, talked about who was needed on defense, who would be a better center.
He found himself once again, of course, on the teams declared skins. He'd never said anything outright, just tried to quietly skirt the issue and wriggle onto shirts. For the first time he thought, Fuck it. It's my skin.
This time he didn’t wait for Raymond—rounder, darker skinned—to also try to get onto shirts team. Simon reached down to the hem of his tee and peeled his shirt in public for the first time since he was eight years old. Since before the first burn had appeared.
Let them see. He could admit it.
There was a bit of a hush as the others realized what he’d just revealed but it was Raymond who spoke up. “Cigarette burns?”
Simon nodded and left it at that. But as he watched, Raymond took off his own shirt, turning around and showing his back. His own scar deep and square. Pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, he said. “Belt buckle. My dad.”
“Stepfather,” Simon replied, and Raymond nodded. Then he tossed the ball to one of his teammates who immediately peeled their own shirt and said, “Let’s get the game going!”
Simon caught the ball when it came to him, but it felt like he was playing in a cloud. It had been decades, and this was all it was. Just a moment where Raymond had done the same. He shot the ball and missed, but no one cared.
Simon was still processing that he wasn't even the only one in this small crowd who had the same shit.
They played until they were sweaty, until they scored more points than Simon would have thought possible, until they were kicked out by the teacher for the aerobics class coming in next. He showered in the locker room, changed into his jeans and a T shirt, and headed home to Kitten.
His world was turning upside down.