14 A Family Divided
FOURTEEN
A Family Divided
I was sixteen years old, and Mom and I were in Florida, staying with her sister.
Aunt Jana was long over her eating disorder, and she’d gone from destroying her body to cherishing it.
First, she’d become a personal trainer and now she was a massage therapist, and in her spare time she was a bodybuilder.
In her own words, Jana was an old hippie, and her house was like a hobbit house, with candles, dried flowers, and warm, earthy tones.
Outside she had a gorgeous garden full of tropical plants, with a fairy garden nestled under some of them.
Aunt Jana was the Country Mouse to Mom’s City Mouse, and her childhood trauma had led her to become an excellent listener.
I didn’t get to spend much time with Aunt Jana, so I loved visiting her, and this trip had been a restorative and relaxing break from a busy year.
Cue Mom, who ran from relaxation like it was about to bite her. As I sat reading a book, she stormed into my aunt’s living room, yelling out her name. Mom was white as a ghost, out of breath, and waving her arms as she barreled into the kitchen.
“Jana! Oh, my God! This is a catastrophe! Oh my God, I think I need to sit down.”
“Sit, sit,” Aunt Jana said calmly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Mom plopped unsteadily onto a barstool and closed her eyes, then burst into tears. “Oh my God,” she cried. “It’s Skip! I was just on the phone with him, and he told me he’s been having an affair. I don’t know what to do. An affair!”
I put down my book, sat back in my chair, and felt my stomach turn. Dad cheated on Mom, I thought. How could he do such a thing?
In one instant, every belief I held about marriage, family, and love flew out the window.
Along with it went every ounce of respect I had for Dad.
The Dad I thought I knew wasn’t selfish.
That Dad used to come home exhausted after a twenty-four-hour shift, scoop up me and Jansen, and toss us on the bed.
When we bounced back, we’d scream “One more time!” and he’d pick us up and start the game all over again.
That Dad was the consummate handyman who could fix anything broken around the house—without being asked.
That Dad worked two jobs to put a roof over his children’s heads.
Now, suddenly the Dad I thought I knew had been replaced by a man who’d done something that might tear his family apart.
I was distraught. But as Mom cried in Aunt Jana’s arms, I knew Dad’s news had hit her harder than me.
In retrospect, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised.
The truth was that my parents had been drifting apart for years, but it was a slow-burn crisis, and I was oblivious to the fact that things were about to reach a boiling point.
My acting schedule forced them apart for weeks at a time, and when they were home together, they settled into routines that didn’t include each other.
Mom had wound down her acting career, but she sometimes taught acting lessons and was always shuttling me and Jansen from one place to another while Dad worked or played golf.
Mom brought her phone to the dinner table every night anticipating some urgent call, while Dad cherished dinnertime as a place where he bonded with us and told stories.
I can’t tell you how many times I heard him complain, “C’mon, Lesley, can’t we have one dinner when you aren’t working?
” Then he’d frown when Mom stood up and poured herself a glass of merlot, or—more recently—the vodka and sodas she liked at cocktail hour.
Our family had always been feisty, but there was an edge to Mom and Dad’s arguments now.
Home felt crowded as Mom and Dad fought each other, then retreated into their own worlds.
To anyone other than me or Jansen, it was plain as day that their connection had fizzled out.
Then there was 9/11. Dad didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that day had scarred him.
The fact that he lived when dozens of his friends died caused a void that no one—including Mom—could fill.
I’m sure Dad’s quiet pain alienated her, especially because she embraced her emotions every chance she got.
“Oh, Hayden,” Mom said as swiveled her barstool toward the living room, “I didn’t realize you were there. I guess you heard everything I said.”
I nodded my head. “I did, Mom, and I don’t know what to say. But I think I need to go for a walk.”
Aunt Jana looked at me sympathetically, then put her arm around Mom again as I walked outside into a world that had suddenly been turned on its head.
Mom and I stayed in Florida for a few more days, and I was so relieved to have Aunt Jana around so I wouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of my mother alone. But the fear about what would happen when we went home was pure torture. So was everything Mom told me she’d learned about Dad’s affair.
“This woman—whoever she is—has two kids,” Mom said. “When I get home, I’m going to remind your father that the whole time he was prancing around with that woman, he had two children as well.”
“Uh-huh,” I answered, gritting my teeth. Mom had been talking about Dad nonstop, and when she wasn’t, she was walking around the house, trying to stay busy but clearly feeling miserable. I had all the sympathy in the world for Mom, but this negative energy was beginning to wear me down.
“And the affair went on for six months,” Mom added. “He says it’s over now, but six months is not a one-night stand. It’s a full-on relationship.”
I edged toward the door, wondering if I could slip out, shrink, and hide in Aunt Jana’s fairy garden.
I didn’t want to hurt or avoid Mom—I wanted to be there for her as much as she needed—but I was exhausted.
The sheer volume of information, questions, and second-guessing that was running through my brain was drowning me.
I didn’t know what this other woman looked like, where she worked, or how she and Dad met.
I kept visualizing what her children might look like or where she and Dad conducted their business.
God, how disgusting, I thought, trying to blot out the idea of my dad in bed with someone else.
I wondered what Jansen and I were doing while Dad was off with her, and then it hit me that Dad might have been lying to us when he said he was playing golf.
I’d never known Dad to lie, but then again, I’d never known him to cheat on Mom, either.
I reached for the screen door handle to make my exit, but then I decided to ask the one question that ate at me more than all the others.
“Mom, why did he tell you?”
“We were arguing on the phone,” she answered, wiping away tears. “I don’t even remember what the fight was about, but I said something, and then your father just blurted out this news. It was all in the heat of the moment.”
“Why did he do that?” I asked.
Mom frowned. “Your father told me he didn’t think I’d care.”
That’s when it hit me. Mom and Dad were on opposite planets in terms of their emotional connection.
Dad thought Mom didn’t love him, while Mom thought Dad loved her without question.
Yet neither of them communicated this. I’d always thought of my parents’ marriage as a constant, the solid foundation that held me up through everything, but that had all been an illusion.
I’d always felt safe with them together, but the reality was, I wasn’t.
The next day, Mom and I packed up to head back to New York. It was time to face reality, and that meant facing Dad. Mom told me he’d most likely move out as soon as we got back, and the two of them would decide later what they wanted to do about their marriage.
“I’m just not sure what I want, Hayden,” Mom told me as we settled into our seats on the airplane. “Everything’s changed. I don’t know where to go from here.”
“You’ll be okay, Mom,” I answered. “I’m sure of it.”
Mom sighed. “I know I will be. But what about you and Jansen? What if this woman asks your father to spend Christmas with her and her children, and she invites you and your brother over?” Mom shifted in her seat and turned to look me in the eyes.
“Would you spend Christmas with your father and that woman?”
Where’s Aunt Jana’s fairy garden when I need it? I thought. Then I sunk into my seat, closed my eyes, and willed my mother to stop projecting her agony onto me.
The flight to New York was only about three hours, but they were the longest three hours of my life.
I always hated being in tight spaces with Mom when she was angry, and there’s almost no place more cramped and claustrophobic than an airplane.
Mom’s lower jaw was fixed into the underbite that sent my blood pressure through the roof, and I worried she might blow up at any second.
With each passing mile, I also became more resentful of Dad.
I realized that his affair wasn’t just a betrayal of Mom or a massive disruption of the peace and safety Jansen and I needed at home.
It was also a betrayal of me. Without Aunt Jana present, I was Mom’s therapist and shoulder to cry on.
When I got mad at her and begged her to stop saying ugly things about Dad, she got even angrier, and I became her emotional punching bag.
I didn’t blame her; when you’re hurt, your urge is to fight, flee, or freeze.
Mom was choosing to fight. But when her lower jaw began to tremble, I could see her pain, and I knew, intuitively, that her rage was masking her heartbreak.
Mom needed someone to vent to, and there I was, the mature older child who’d spent her youth navigating the adult world.
Like it or not, I’d spent my whole life preparing for this.
But, man, it was painful. I didn’t want to be Mom’s support system or emotional garbage dump.
I just wanted to be her child. Whenever we made it home, I didn’t know if my own needs would fall to the wayside, or if I’d ever have anyone to talk to about my pain.
So, I stared out the window, wishing it would all go away.
If I didn’t pay attention to what had happened over the last few days, maybe that meant it wasn’t real.