Chapter 13
Ryan
After work, I hit the gym, and during a break between deadlifts, I pull up Insta and see that Marty’s not only followed me, but sent a DM.
Maybe don’t make such a production in front of the guys about what we did.
They could have overheard something.
I can imagine the exact expression of annoyance he’s making.
Me: Relax. I’m not as stupid as you seem to think. I didn’t say anything that would have clued anyone in.
Me: Think you just wanted an excuse to hit me up on socials.
I’m about to put my phone back in my pocket, but a reply comes right through.
Marty: Trust me, this morning reminded me why this might’ve been a terrible idea.
Me: Dude, how did you reply so fast?
Me: Just sitting around waiting on a notification from me?
Marty: I don’t even know why I feel like this is some kind of insult.
Me: Not an insult. Kind of adorable.
Me: But a terrible idea? Nah.
Marty: For a guy who said kissing guys wasn’t a big deal, you suddenly seem eager to explore your options.
I’m totally thrown.
Me: ?
Marty: Didn’t seem shy about hitting on Dax right in front of me.
Now that one’s really got me laughing.
Me: Dax?
He’s a hot guy, sure. But I’ve never thought about him like that. Although, I never thought about Marty like that either until he showed me how he could work that mouth.
Marty: Oh, you loving on his abs for some other reason?
A warm sensation radiates in my chest. So that’s what his attitude is really about. And for whatever reason, it’s got blood pumping through my veins like when we were messing around last night.
Me: Kind of loving that we made out once and you’re already jealous of other guys.
Me: Hot.
Ellipses appear, showing he’s typing, then disappear, returning just as I hear, “Look who’s slacking off now.”
I tuck my phone away as Keegan approaches with Jaxon. We came to the gym together, since Keegan and Jaxon are regulars here too. Jaxon’s put on a lot of muscle thanks to Keeg’s mentoring.
“Chatting up a girl, I imagine,” Keegan says.
“Something like that.” I don’t want to lie to my buddies, but also, none of their business what’s going on with Marty and me…not that either of us really understands that anyway.
We get to chatting, and while they’re doing bench presses, I figure it’s a good chance for us to spot each other. I’m curious what Marty replied, so while Jaxon spots Keegan, I check my phone.
Marty: I may be a lot of things, but jealous isn’t one of them.
Marty: Know what, it doesn’t matter. If you’re around tonight, I could show you some more tango moves.
Me: Needy for it all of a sudden, huh? I must be that good.
I imagine how that’ll get under his skin, but I’d rather be doing that in person.
He doesn’t reply right away—I assume he’s busy at Activate Kindness now—so I hit the locker room and change before heading out to meet up with my parents.
When I get there, about an hour from Peachtree Springs, I park in front of the picturesque two-story house. The place where I was raised.
Where Dad and I used to spend time out back throwing the ball around.
Where we would open Christmas presents in the living room, by the bay window.
Where I used to have to time things just right, like a spy, to sneak girls up into my room in high school.
Spending so much time at school and work these days, it’s nice to come back every once in a while.
My home—my family—always grounds me, no matter what else may be going on in my life.
Plus, it’s been a minute since I’ve seen Mom and Dad at the same time.
Feels like she’s been really busy with friends recently.
Dad greets me at the door. “How’s my champ, huh?”
Well, he’s messing around with guys now.
A guy, at least, but not something I have to share with my parents right away. Would prefer to get a handle on this first, get an idea of what’s happening between Mart and me.
Dad pats me on the back, ushering me inside. “Must be killing you waiting for the draft. And we need to make some time so I can see where you’re at with training.”
“Yeah, sure.”
That’s a topic I was hoping to bring up over dinner. At least plant the seed, let him know I’m reconsidering going pro so he’s not blindsided later. But first, I’d rather just enjoy the afternoon with them than…I don’t know…crush Dad’s NFL dreams.
We step into the kitchen, where Mom’s standing in a skirt and blouse, her hair and makeup done, which isn’t the norm. She’s more of a ponytail-and-jeans kind of mom.
“Were you out?” I ask her as I approach for a hug.
“With some friends for brunch.”
“Friends and brunch? Wow. You are all over the place these days.”
She searches around uneasily, which catches me off guard, as though I said something that made it awkward, but I can’t imagine what that could have been.
“Sit down,” she says. “It’s been too long since we’ve talked. We have so much to catch up on.”
I settle at the table, expecting Dad to mosey on over to the oven to finish with dinner and Mom to sit and talk with me like we normally do, but they both sit, their expressions tense, and I quickly recognize what this is.
“What is going on?”
Dad winces. “Why do you look worried?”
“Not sure. This reminds me of how you sat me down after you found that condom in my room.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look before Mom says, “We were very happy you were using condoms, but we did need to have a talk with you. We didn’t traumatize you, did we?”
“I mean, it’s not the only serious conversation we had. There was the time I snuck out.”
“You’re saying it like that was only once,” Mom observes.
“And the time the cops came over because they caught me and some friends in a park after it was closed. And that one time when I was making out with Mandy Forbes at that house that was under construction.”
You know, as much as Marty can get to me, he wasn’t that off about the kind of person I am. But I haven’t even been home, so I’m stumped about what I could’ve done.
“And…” I’m about to go on.
“You’re not in trouble,” Dad insists quickly, like a lawyer trying to keep me from incriminating myself more than I already did. “But we wanted to talk to you about something.”
“We don’t have to get to it right away, though,” Mom adds. “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve been up to?”
I search around the kitchen, sniffing… “What’s for dinner, exactly?”
“Oh, we were planning to go out,” Mom says. “We didn’t have time to get something together, but also, this is important enough that we figured we’d want to discuss it before eating, hence meeting here first.”
That’s unusual…
“If it’s so important, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?”
“It’s the kind of thing you deserved to hear in person, Ry,” Mom says. “And it’s something we probably should have told you sooner.”
Now I’m really on edge. I wait for one of them to explain, but they’re quiet, as though each is waiting for the other to tell me this news.
“Someone has to say it now. Is it Grandma?” She had a stroke last summer, but from everything they’ve told me, she’s been fine recently. It’s the only thing that comes to mind, though.
“No, no,” Dad rushes to reassure me. “Grandma’s fine. This is not about anyone’s health.”
“Okay…” I drag out.
Between the odd way they’re acting tonight and the way Mom’s been acting recently, I have a pinch in my gut, some instinct that I’m hoping once they share what’s on their minds, I’ll reveal what I feared they were about to tell me, and they’ll laugh it off as a wild thing to conclude.
Unfortunately, Mom says, “Your father and I have been doing a lot of thinking the past few years, since you’ve been in college…”
The blood in my face drains as her words confirm what was already stirring in my mind, a fear I have a word for, though I keep trying to pretend the word doesn’t exist.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” she says. “We both love you.”
“So much.”
“Someone just say it,” I force through my teeth.
Mom takes a measured breath, the sort I recognize from other times when she’s had to deliver bad news. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”
There it is. The word I was trying desperately to avoid, and now that she’s said it, I feel even more oblivious than usual. And not only oblivious, but selfish. Was I so self-involved that I didn’t consider this could have been on the horizon for the two people I care about most?
I’m waiting for a torrent of emotion—rage, guilt, shock—but I’m surprisingly numb.
To make matters worse, they’re silent, staring at me, as if to gauge my reaction.
I open my mouth to say something, anything that will make this stop, but words catch in my throat.
Not that I’d have any even if I could think of something.
After a stretch of time, I finally manage to get out, “What?”
“Divorce,” Dad says, avoiding eye contact. “We’re getting a divorce.”
“Not, like, a separation?”
They turn to each other but won’t look each other in the eyes either, and again, I know them well enough to have an idea of what they won’t say. “So you’ve already been separated?”
“Not a legal separation,” Dad says. “But we’ve agreed we would do that.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a year.”
Now they’ve got me running back through the past year’s events—Christmas, a vacation to see our extended family.
“Even when we went to Maui?” I ask, since that’s just a regular trip we have over the holiday, and everything seemed totally normal, but again, it reminds me that I haven’t been paying attention as they nod to confirm.
“And you didn’t want to tell me anything?”
“We wanted to be sure first,” Mom says.
“Did something happen? Or…” My stomach churns at the thought that either might have betrayed the other.
“Nothing happened,” Dad insists before I can sit with that for too long. “But your mom was expressing frustrations for some time—”
“Aster, don’t put this on me.”
Dad hangs his head as he chews his bottom lip.
“We agreed to this together,” Mom adds.
Dad nods, his face red, but he’s quiet, unusually quiet for him.
“Dad doesn’t want this, does he?” I ask, choking up.
He still won’t look at me, and I can see the tears forming in his eyes as he says, “Things don’t always work out the way you plan. You know that, champ. But I adore your mother, and she knows that.”
Mom shoots him a subtle look, and her stoic expression and the way she tilts her neck has me thinking his confession has irritated her arthritis.
“Is there something you could do?” I ask. “Like see a therapist?”
“We’ve been to couples counseling before we made this decision,” Dad reveals.
Another thing I’ve been oblivious to.
Fuck.
That numbness is quickly being replaced by all these feelings I’m not ready to handle.
Anger.
Frustration.
Guilt.
And a sense of helplessness because it’s clear they’re only telling me after the decisions have already been made.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks.
I push to my feet. “I don’t think so.” The tightness in my chest is intense, like a pinched nerve in my heart, if that were possible. I head right for the door, wanting to get the fuck away.
“Ryan!” Dad calls after me.
“Sweetie.” Mom’s voice isn’t far behind as they tail me.
“Sit down so we can answer any questions you have. We said we’d go to dinner.”
I turn around, summoning all my strength to keep control of the torrent of emotions moving through me. “Please, I need to get out of here for a bit. This was…a lot. And I love you both, but I need to think about it.” I can’t even look at them right now.
“Okay, just reach out if you need anything. We’re happy to talk,” Dad says.
They say more, but I’m too busy leaving to hear any of it, maybe because I can’t process any more new information.
I hurry to my car, not even safe once I close the door because Mom and Dad stand on the front porch, watching me.
I put the car in Drive and head down to the next cul-de-sac in the neighborhood, parking before the tears overwhelm me.