Chapter 35 Travis
Travis
My mom grabs a pitcher from one of the cabinets and starts making a batch of iced tea.
I step over to the kitchen island, grab a lemon from the bowl of fruit, and start to slice it up for her.
She clears her throat. “So, um, your father called me the other day.”
I almost drop the small knife I’m holding. The muscles in my neck and shoulders instantly tense.“What did he want?”
“He heard that you were drafted by San Francisco. He was pretty excited about it. He wanted to tell you congratulations.”
I exhale sharply. “Did he apologize for what he did to you? For abandoning you when you were sick?”
She shakes her head. She doesn’t look sad; more like resigned. “He didn’t.”
I swallow back a curse word, pissed at his audacity. And surprised. I shouldn’t be. He was cruel enough to leave his wife when she had cancer. Of course he wouldn’t apologize to her. He’s an insensitive jerk.
“He said he tried to call you, but he couldn’t get through,” Mom says.
I slice the lemon into wedges with more force than I need to. “I blocked him. I don’t want to speak to him ever again.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” she says gently.
“Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
When I glance up at her, she’s looking at me, her brow furrowed like she’s in pain for me.
“I’m sorry, he called you,” I say. “He shouldn’t be bothering you unless it’s to apologize for how he treated you.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I know that, honey. You don’t have to talk to him, but I just wanted you to know that he’s tried to reach out.”
I shake my head and glance off to the side at the wall. “I’m still so angry with him for what he did to you.”
My throat is sore from how hard I’m trying to keep my voice steady. Rage courses through me just thinking about him, but I don’t want to raise my voice around my mom.
“And for what he did to you,” Mom says.
I look at her right as she walks over to me. “He left you too, Travis. You have every right to be mad and hurt about that.”
I close my eyes and swallow through the urge to cry. She wraps her arms around me. I hug her.
“Sometimes I feel selfish for being mad at him,” I say quietly.
“Why would you feel that way?”
“Because you were the one who was sick. You were the one who needed him the most. You should have been the only focus. But I was mad too that I didn’t have a dad anymore. And really hurt.”
Mom’s eyes are teary as she gazes up at me.
She cups my face in her hand. “Listen to me, Travis. You are the sweetest, kindest son in the world to think about me and my feelings so much. You put me first for so long. I know how lucky I am to have a son like you. But you were just a kid when I got sick, and your dad left. He abandoned you just as much as he abandoned me. You have every right to be mad at him, honey.”
I let out the shaky breath. My chest is tight. For so long, I’ve held in that anger for my dad. I’ve told myself that it was because he left my mom. I refused to admit that he hurt me too.
But he did. And hearing my mom say that it’s okay for me to feel this way about him is the comfort I didn’t know I needed.
I hug her. She kisses my cheek, then takes the lemons I sliced up and drops them into the pitcher.
“If he tries to call you again—”
She waves a hand. “Don’t worry. I gave him an earful. He won’t be calling me again anytime soon.”
She finishes preparing the tea, then puts together a plate of fruit and chocolates for dessert.
A couple of minutes later, Anna walks into the kitchen.
She offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. My mom was having a fashion emergency.”
Mom smiles. “No problem at all. Hopefully it’s resolved?”
Anna nods. “I talked her out of buying wide-leg jeans. Crisis averted.”
Mom chuckles. “Sometimes I wish I had a fashion-savvy kid.” She gestures to me. “This one only ever wears T-shirts, gym shorts, and joggers. If I’m ever in a fashion emergency, I’m screwed.”
We all laugh.
Anna’s gaze turns teasing as she looks over at me, before she turns back to my mom.
“Ivy, do you have any baby pictures of Travis?”