Chapter 22 #3
She grabs his hand, places it around her waist, and hugs him. He relaxes into her. His other arm wraps around her. His face tucks into the crook of her neck, seeming to collapse into her.
It hits me square in the chest.
He’s in love with her.
She’s his safe place.
The one he’s been searching for years. The one I couldn’t provide. Didn’t provide, and regret not providing. It’s so obvious now what she means to him. Why she is here. She regulates him. I don’t know how. I don’t have the words to explain it. Yet I’m witnessing it firsthand.
My son is in love.
He’s carved out a normal, loving relationship from the charred ashes of my bad marriage and bitter divorce.
Has a front row seat to the brutality and pain.
Then took his own path to find it. What a beautiful realization that brings tears to my eyes.
I press my lips together, turn away to retrieve the cocktail napkins he tossed down next to our wine glasses to dab my eyes. Each of us takes a moment.
A ragged sign loosens from him before rustling footsteps are heard behind me.
“If I may interject,” she starts, slowly and with a heaviness that matches the moment.
I turn to face them. Standing side by side, he holds her hand. Needs an anchor when he really wants to vape. An ache grows in my heart that he has someone on his side.
Someone who understands, reads him, and doesn’t shy away from the storm and darkness that always surrounds him. Doesn’t give up and walk away exhausted, as I had done countless times. No, she sits with him, quietly through the worst of it. It’s admirable.
I nod, not knowing if she really needs my permission.
“There’s a lot here. More than can be covered in an afternoon.”
He gazes at her, not smiling, not frowning, just being.
“But if you’ve gotten everything out that you want to say to her about this situation, then I think she deserves to have the floor.”
His eyes slowly move to mine. Seeing him through the water remnants of my tears, his head tilts. Then he breaks contact with Claudia and collapses back into the chair. His boot lands with a hard thud against the table again. Resigned and ready.
There is so much between us.
A landfill’s worth.
But like she said, it won’t be resolved in a day.
“Okay, then. Babs, go right ahead. Don’t hold back.”
I don’t think I’ll come guns a blazing like she’s suggesting, but telling my side is the reason I came.
I take a calming breath. Run a hand over my clothes to smooth them out and return to my place on the couch.
My son glares at me, only distracted when his girlfriend walks past him to retrieve her wine glass and drink from it.
“Some of what you said has given me pause.”
I look past him, deciding which parts to address first. Easiest to hardest.
“Good it should.”
“Dominic.”
His name is more of a warning, spoken over the top of her wine glass. He shifts, angry but listening.
“I didn’t realize you hold me to a different standard than your father.”
“Higher, but whatever.”
“Higher, okay,” I echo after him, causing my guilt to grow. “I also didn’t realize how passionately you felt about his indiscretions. I assumed you weren’t bothered by them. Maybe it was a guy thing or some—”
“How could I not be bothered? He was never home. And when he did come home, it was a fight in the middle of the night. Barrettmoor is big, but not big enough to hide the fact that my father is fucking around on my mother.”
“I guess I could have done a better job hiding that.”
“Fucking understatement, but continue.”
“Uh, I didn’t realize those ladies were prostitutes. Maybe if I had done some things differently, I wouldn’t have gotten so upset. Hollister wouldn’t have felt the need to comfort me.”
Admitting that is the first step into dangerous territory. Claudia puts her glass down as if preparing for another explosive reaction from my son.
“Maybe it’s everything you accused me of, or perhaps it’s not. I’ll need to think about that. But it felt good to have someone listen. Someone who’s seen both sides. And, yes, I admit that the age was initially a problem. I tried to push him away, but the more he was around, the more I felt seen.”
He snorts in disgust, mouth opening when Claudia raises a hand in warning. He snaps it shut, shifts in his chair, but otherwise remains quiet.
“I realize you might not want to hear this, but I felt wanted. Desired.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to hear that shit.”
“Dominic, even though she’s your mother and you only see her in that role, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have needs. She’s young and beautiful. She’s—"
“Save it, Marlowe. I don’t want to hear how my mom needs to be fucked.”
“Language!”
Her sunny disposition slips, an edge to her voice. It’s interesting how the profanity bothers her in some contexts and doesn’t in others. Something else I’ll ponder later.
“Whether you like it or not, she’s allowed to be and feel what you have in me.”
He looks away, out the window, as if the thought is so foreign and distasteful to him that he can’t think any other way.
“Don’t even compare us to him and her.”
His voice is gristly.
Angry at the comparison of them to what he deems a casual fling. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. That’s between Hollister and me to determine if there even is a Hollister and me.
“I’m not, but you need to have an open mind about your mother’s sexuality.”
“Fucking hell, Marlowe.”
I clear my throat.
Uncomfortable with this level of openness.
“Sure, I have the club, a full social calendar, and my lady friends. And you’re probably right in assuming I shouldn’t want more. But when someone showed interest, understood the world we come from, how it is to enter a room full of pitiful looks coming my way, I was relieved.”
“Fuck them. Those high society bitches aren’t half the woman you are.”
That profanity-laced compliment eases the knot in my stomach a fraction.
“I understand the pain I have caused you by being with your friend. Would this be such an issue if it were someone else? Probably not. Did I see it coming? Or plan for this to happen. Not at all, but it did, and I won’t be sorry for that because it’s a betrayal of what we shared and how we—”
“Spare me the crap, mother. Are you going to continue fucking him or not?”
“Dominic!” The edge she had in her voice turns into a full-on scolding. “It’s not your business what your mom does and who she does it with.”
“Wrong, Marlowe. It matters a hell of a lot. He’s my age. MY AGE.”
“And I’m over ten years older than you.”
“What the fuck does that matter? This isn’t about us, it’s about my mom and my friend.
Sneaking around behind my back. Lying to me.
If Emilio hadn’t gotten hurt, would I have ever known?
” His anger moves from her to me. The full force of his fury is coming my way.
“Would you have? Come clean if you weren’t busted? ”
Having been patient for longer than I thought. I let my anger rise, ready to unleash a bit on him.
“Like you hanging out with a serial killer? When would you have told me about that? Huh? Why did I have to hear about that last night?”
The room snaps into an oppressive silence. Claudia’s face drains of color, sinking into the couch cushions. Her eyes are wide and unseeing.
Dominic thunders to his feet in a single, fluid motion. The air warps around him. Darkness gathers at his shoulders. His shadow stretches long across the floor. His jaw is set so tight it looks as though his teeth might splinter, and his chest heaves with ragged breaths.
Veins stand out along his neck as his hands ball into fists. Knuckles pale under the strain. Every fiber of his body pulses with raw, unfiltered hatred, turning the room electric with restrained power.
“GET OUT!”