Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Three
Spring
“ Y ou’re thinking about your father?”
Gabriel nodded. “My father. My mother. I just wonder if they really loved me. I think about all the ways I could make mistakes if I ever become a father, the things I could say or do to mess up a relationship and it seems so endless.”
“Parenting is a difficult job,” Dr. Lucas agreed. “You still haven’t spoken to your mother?”
“Not since she came to the apartment, and we were both pissed off then.”
“You said before that you felt like she betrayed you. Do you still feel that way?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said, then shook his head. “No? Sometimes I do and then I think, how would I feel if my child ever hurt Mia? I can’t imagine it. Can’t imagine what I’d do.”
“Is that part of why you’re worried about starting a family with Mia?” Dr. Lucas asked.
“I’m afraid I won’t be a good father because my parents were distant.” Distant was a weak word for what he’d experienced but even now it felt like a further betrayal to tell his therapist that they had been neglectful and emotionally absent. “I don’t think either of them had good relationships with their parents, either.”
“You’re breaking that cycle and learning to have healthy relationships.” Dr. Lucas tapped his pen on his knee as he flipped through the pages of notes he’d taken during their session. “I’d say you’ve mentioned children at least every time we’ve spoken, so it seems that you and Mia want a family of your own. Perhaps you’d feel better about parenting if you healed the wounds with your own mother.”
“You want me to talk to Lilah?”
“I think it’s possible that it will help you move on from the past.”
Maybe it was, but that was still far from a guarantee, and he wasn’t sure how Mia would feel about the whole thing. Especially not after what had happened the last time he’d seen his mother.
“He wants me to talk to Lilah.” Gabriel told her the next day as he stood at the counter in their kitchen and waited for his morning coffee to brew. His announcement was met with silence, and he turned back to Mia, unsure if she’d heard him.
She watched him with a crease of worry between her brows. “Is that a good idea?” she asked finally.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He thinks we might be able to work things out, especially if she agrees to go to therapy. I don’t know if that’s true, but I wasn’t sure about reaching out to Brittany and the others and that turned out all right.”
“It did,” she agreed. “Do you think Lilah would agree to therapy? She doesn’t seem like the type who’d be willing to pay someone to tell her when she’s wrong.”
He chuckled. “When you put it that way …”
“You’re doing so well right now and I worry about how you’d react if things with Lilah don’t go well,” Mia said as she tapped a blunt fingernail nervously on the side of her cup, “but if you and Dr. Lucas think this is the right thing to do then I’ll support you.”
“I told him I’d think about it,” Gabriel reassured. “I didn’t make any promises and I don’t have to decide today.”
“You can take as much time as you need,” she said.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said into the phone. He’d been working with Dr. Lucas for almost two months to prepare for this and now he couldn’t remember a word of what they’d discussed. “I came all this way, and I can’t seem to get out of the damn car.”
“You can,” Mia said. “I know you can.”
“What if she won’t see me?”
“Then you come home, and I’ll be your family.”
He was still white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel as he clung to the truth of those words. Months of work with Dr. Lucas had helped all of that feel more real to him, more tangible. He had lost his mother years ago and whether he got her back or closed the door on the possibility forever, nothing would ever take Mia from him.
The large white house just visible through the trees felt familiar to him, but it had never been a home in the same way the house he shared with Mia now was. He stared at the windows, counting the gleaming panes of glass on the second floor until he came to the one he’d grown up in. He had no memories there but loneliness and raised voices and a cold pit of dread settled into his stomach like a lead weight. It was a familiar feeling; the same one he’d always gotten when his mother had looked at him with her characteristic stern disapproval.
He’d always been too loud, too violent, too out of control. The wedge it had driven between them had been deep, the first seemingly irreparable crack in the foundation of his life. Had he been surprised at all when it had come crashing down?
“You’re more of my family than anyone else has ever been,” he told Mia honestly. “I need to try and fix this but if I can’t …”
“I know,” she said. “We’ll keep going, because that’s what we always do.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, and don’t forget you can call me or Dr. Lucas if you need to.”
“I will,” he promised, but he knew he wouldn’t. Whatever the consequences were of this decision, it would be between him and his mother, at least for now.
He put the car in gear and crept up the driveway, stopping at the black wrought iron gate to push the button on the intercom. All of the time he’d spent worrying with Mia and he might not even make it through the gate if his mother didn’t agree to let him in the house.
He didn’t have to wait long, and the woman’s voice that answered him was smooth and professional, exactly the kind of employee he would expect to work for an unfailingly professional politician. “Senator Miller’s residence, how may I help you?”
“I need to see the senator,” Gabriel said. He tried to keep his voice brisk and authoritative, lessons from years ago floating back through his mind, memories of his mother trying to guide him when she still thought he might someday follow in her political footsteps.
There was a pause—checking the daily schedule he assumed—followed by, “She’s not expecting anyone today.”
“I don’t have an appointment,” he said. “I’m her son.”
This time the pause was longer. “The senator doesn’t …”
“Tell her that Gabriel Myers has come to see her,” he said, the hard edge of command in his voice apparently enough to send the guard hurrying to obey. He remembered enough about living with Lilah to know how to use his background and connections to get the job done.
Several infinitely long minutes later the gate swung open without another word from the intercom, and he pulled the car up the long driveway. She was already waiting for him on the stairs in front of the massive double front doors by the time he parked.
“Gabriel,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I didn’t write,” he said with a shrug. “Or call.”
“Well.” Her pause was a weapon, expertly wielded. “Come inside then.”
He followed her in, his gaze wandering over the familiar lines of the furniture and peeking rooms that hadn’t changed in more than a decade. It was an odd feeling to be back inside his childhood home after so long, and stranger still to find the walls in the informal living room were still hung with old family photographs. His own face, young and thin with a crooked smile, looked down on him as Lilah ordered lemonade from the kitchen and sat stiffly on the edge of the loveseat cushion.
“Things didn’t go so well last time we tried this,” she said after a moment. “Perhaps you’d like to speak first this time?”
“I’m sorry,” he said without preamble, for what could he possibly say to her except that? “I’m sorry for what I did to Dad.”
She inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment, before taking a deep breath to steady herself. “I’m sorry that we sent you to Richard’s.”
He shrugged. “So, that’s the worst of it,” he said. “The two of us, both bending our pride a bit to apologize for our mistakes.”
“Did you mean it?” Her eyes were nearly the same color as his own and they reflected his own hesitance, his own pride. In the years that he’d lived here, countless people had told him that he looked like his father, but it had always been his mother that had marked him the deepest.
“I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I regret, but nothing as much as that. I didn’t mean to do it and I’ve spent every day since wishing I could take it back.” He let the emotion flit across her face and settle before asking, “Did you? Mean it?”
Lilah turned her face away, searching the green expanse of the lawn outside the window for something he thought only she could see. “I lost both of you the day I sent you away,” she said. “I thought I was helping you, but nothing was ever right again after that.”
“I don’t know if it was right before that,” he said.
“At least before that we had hope.”
“Maybe we could have hope again.”
She looked at him, for once the steel in her spine softening. “I’d like that, and I think your father would, too. You look good, Gabriel.”
“I feel good,” he said. “I’ve been going to therapy.”
“Really?” There was surprise there, a note of curiosity that he could almost see in her face, though it remained unlined and precisely neutral. Years of practice had made her a nearly unreadable book when she wanted to be, but he had practice of his own in deciphering her.
“My therapist thought you should probably go, too,” he said, and he let it hang between them for a moment as he took a long swallow from his drink and watched her eyes narrow fractionally. “Maybe a sort of family thing.”
“I can’t go all the way—”
“They could do it over video call.” He’d anticipated that protest and smiled blandly as he outmaneuvered her.
“Hmm.”
“Mia’s pregnant,” he said into the silence that followed.
Something flashed over her face, quickly suppressed and he wondered if she was having as hard of a time processing the news as he’d had when Mia had told him.
He hadn’t been expecting it, though looking back, he probably should have been at least a little more prepared for the possibility. They had been doing the bare minimum to prevent it and Mia hadn’t seemed surprised when she’d come to him with big news and vulnerable eyes.
“Are you saying that you’re …?” he’d asked, his hand fisting in the fabric of her loose pajama shirt.
She’d nodded but her voice was wistful and uncertain. “I know we said it wasn’t something we wanted right now …”
“No,” he agreed, and his eyes were running desperately over her face, his hand tight on her hip. “Not until … You wanted to wait until you were done with school.”
“I know but—”
“And I’m still messed up,” he continued. “Mia, are you … Do you want to … Are you going to keep it?” he asked finally.
Mia’s mouth opened and then snapped closed, and he watched the wave of realization wash over as she remembered Brittany and the loss he’d experienced. “Of course,” she said, pulling him in and holding him tight as a shudder ran through him. “I know I said I wanted to wait but that doesn’t mean I’m not happy.”
“You’re happy.” He’d sighed and wrapped her up tightly in his arms.
It had been a revelation. A reprieve. Maybe even a miracle. She was already planning the time she’d need to take off from law school and the best ways to manage the competing workloads of school and parenthood once she returned.
The least he could do was finally make the trip to see his mother, put into action the plan that he’d been working on in therapy. He needed to do this, so he could be a good father.
Mia was more than happy, she was thrilled, and he knew his mother well enough to know she’d feel the same, even if she was staring at him with narrowed eyes as she contemplated his announcement. She was smart enough to connect the dots about the timing of his visit and he knew she was wrestling with her emotions.
“That’s manipulative, Gabriel.”
“Offering you access to your grandchild?” Her lips pursed and her fingers tightened on the glass she was holding and he held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, it’s manipulative,” he agreed. “Is it working?”
She ignored the question, as close to an admission as Gabriel knew he was likely to get and looked at him over the rim of her lemonade glass. “Have you married Mia?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get everything settled first, be a whole person before I asked her.”
“And when is the baby due?” she asked.
“Not until this winter.”
“Fine,” she sniffed. “Though I maintain that it’s unfair to use a grandchild against me.”
“You’ve never dealt in fairness, Mother, only in results. Besides, he’s a good therapist.”
“What’s he done for you?”
“I’m here,” Gabriel said, looking around at a house he had never planned to come back to. “And it’s helped with the anger and the anxiety and the nightmares.”
“I’m glad,” she said, and he thought she might be. It was always hard to tell with Lilah what was real and what was a careful performance, but there was an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes. She lifted a hand, and for a moment he was almost sure she was going to reach for him, but after a moment of hesitation she let it fall. “I’m glad about all of it, though I hope it doesn’t interfere with Mia’s education too much.”
“She’s been accepted to law school—more than one actually—and the timing could have been better, but we’ll handle it.” He felt a tug of worry, but it was quickly smothered by pride. There was nothing Mia couldn’t do once she set her heart on it and he would be there to help her in whatever way he could. He would be an involved father, a supportive husband. “Besides, what do you know about Mia’s education?”
She tipped her head, regal and condescending. “I wanted to make sure you were adjusting.”
“You couldn’t have kept an eye on me before?” It rankled, even now, and he suspected it always would.
“I made mistakes in your youth, ones I did not intend to repeat once you went to prison.”
“You never even wrote to me …” He trailed off, thinking hard as she stared him down over her fine china. Pieces clicked into place, the impossible odds he’d overcome somehow making more sense. “You’re the reason my conviction got thrown out.”
“Hmm,” she said. “I would never do such a thing, Gabriel, honestly.”
She would and she clearly had, but to admit it would be more than her pride could allow. She wasn’t without her flaws but maybe she loved him more than she had let herself acknowledge, even back then. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, pretending not to notice her moment of vulnerability, “and I want to do something important. Give something back to help people like me.”
“And what would that be?” She sat up straighter, her mind seamlessly making the switch to something tangible she could work on.
“Well, I thought I’d ask my mother to throw some of her considerable influence behind prison and sentencing reform,” he said. “At least to begin with. Then I could move on to starting a nonprofit, something to help with the legal complications and helping people get back on their feet once they’re released. It’s almost impossible for them to find jobs or places to live. It’s not surprising how many of them end up back in prison. We’ve done nothing to help them with the problems that put them there and we’ve added new, unnecessary challenges on top of them.”
She set her glass down, her face taking on a calculating expression that he knew meant she’d slipped into the role of a politician. “Those views aren’t exactly popular, Gabriel. Not with donors and not with the public. Our current rules are in place to keep other people safe.”
“I know,” he said. “But does doing that and not addressing the real causes of crime actually help anyone? Or is it just another way that we can make people miserable without having to feel guilty? We’ve built an entire system around punishment. We handle people who break the law like they’re cartoon criminals instead of real people with real struggles. You don’t know how many of the people I was in with had stories like mine. Stealing to survive, killing to survive, doing drugs just to numb the pain of living or to self-medicate for some mental illness because they can’t afford to see a real therapist.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, sounding as exasperated with him as she had been in his youth. “You want to take on the whole judicial system?”
“More than that,” he said, leaning forward and grabbing her hand, cradling it in his as he tried to explain. “I want to challenge the idea of punitive justice as the best way to do things in the first place. The thought that you can lock someone up in a cage and that somehow they pay off their debt to society through suffering … it makes no sense.”
“And what do you think we should do instead?”
“Help people before it comes to that,” he said. “Do more to keep people fed, housed, and educated. We can break the cycles that put people in prison and help the ones that are already there get a better chance at a future.”
“Gabriel …”
“I can handle the non-profit,” he interrupted. “Mia can help with all the legal stuff once she has her degree and passes the bar and I have just the person in mind to help with the reintegration part of things—but I need your help. You don’t just have the platform and the political clout, it’s more than that, you have the ability to speak on this as someone who’s been directly affected by a horrible tragedy.”
“I don’t know that I can honestly say that I completely disagree with you being sent to prison,” she said. “I can’t speak as a victim and say the things you want me to say.”
“I’m not asking you to advocate for the abolition of consequences entirely or for those who commit violent crimes to go free without an assessment of the risk,” he said. “I’m asking that you ask for those consequences to fit the circumstances. I’m asking you to advocate for other solutions for nonviolent offenders, for programs to reduce violence in the first place, and for everyone to have the chance at rehabilitation.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” she said. “Is this the only reason you came?”
“I’ve been working on goals with my therapist,” he explained. “Trying to mend our relationship was one of the goals, and the nonprofit was another. I figured since I was already here …”
She patted his arm. “You got that single-mindedness from me, I suppose, so I can’t fault you for it.”
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
“I’ll do what I can,” she agreed.