Safe at First, page 25
How could such a genuine melody cause me so much pain?
It only made me hate my dad more. He’d taken so much from us—joy, hope, laughter, our choices. And we’d, what ... allowed it? Accepted it? Perpetuated it?
“Mac?” Sunny was repeating my name, and I shook my head to focus back on the phone that was now in my mom’s hand.
“Sorry, babe. I was in my head for a second.”
“It’s okay. I was just telling your mom that she needs to come out for a game when the season starts.” Sunny sounded so excited, and I looked at my mom to try to read her expression, but I couldn’t.
My mom had come to my games in high school but only when DD was out of town. I’d learned at some point during my junior year that if she came up to my games without his permission, he’d punish her. He canceled her personal appointments so that when she showed up, they wouldn’t have her in the books and couldn’t possibly squeeze her in. He always knew what she was doing and was one step ahead.
He’d gone so far as to shut off her credit cards once, but when that only proved to be an embarrassment to him and his name because it happened in front of a lot of people, he never did it again. Instead, he simply hid her cards from her, so when she went to use them, they were missing from her wallet. Apparently, my mom looking like a forgetful lunatic wasn’t a source of shame for him. He played the victim card.
Poor Dick Davies. Look how unstable his wife is. How does he deal with her? everyone whispered instead of the other way around.
I tried to reassure my mom that it was okay that she didn’t watch me, but it wasn’t. It made me just as angry with her as I was with DD. Every other player on the field had at least one person watching them and cheering them on. But not me. And, yeah, I felt fucking sorry for myself because of it.
“Do you think you’ll be able to come out?” Sunny asked. “It’s his last season playing here. And he’s really good,” Sunny continued her sales pitch.
My mom shifted in her seat, a fake-as-fuck smile plastered on her face. She was incredibly uncomfortable.
“Hey, babe. We gotta go,” I said, cutting the conversation short and tossing my mom a life preserver so she didn’t drown all alone.
“Oh. Okay. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Davies,” Sunny shouted because I had grabbed the phone and was walking into another room.
“I’ll try to call you later, but things are a little tense here,” I explained, and her eyes pulled together. I could tell she was worried.
“At least text me if you can’t call, okay?” she suggested, and I agreed before ending the call and heading back into the kitchen.
My mom hadn’t moved an inch. She was sitting in the same chair with her hands folded as she stared at the table.
“Mom.” I put my hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head toward me.
“She’s really sweet,” she said, meaning Sunny.
“Yeah, she is.”
I sat down next to her again, and she faced me.
“Mac, I hope you know that I want to come see you play,” she began to explain, but I knew what was coming next. It was the same thing she always said.
“But you can’t. I know,” I finished the sentence for her.
She put her head in her hands and started shaking. “I wish I were stronger. You needed me to be stronger.”
“Mom,” I said, feeling small, “I never understood why you couldn’t stand up to him before. But I understand now.”
Sunny and I had talked about it a little bit once, and she gave me a perspective that I had been too pissed to ever see clearly in the past. I’d made everything about my parents’ relationship this black-and-white thing, but Sunny showed me all the shades of gray. She made me see my mom’s side instead of just my own. I’d been so mad, but she had been right.
“How—” She sniffed. “How do you understand now?”
“Because he’s a controlling asshole who gets off on making us feel less than,” I explained before adding what Sunny had taught me. “But I get it now—that you feel stuck. And powerless. And you’ve been with him for so long that you don’t know how to get away.”
“I stopped working when you were born,” she said.
I never knew that she’d worked before I came along, which was stupid and naive of me to think that my mom never had something of her own. The reality was that I’d never asked. I always assumed she liked the lifestyle DD provided.
“I don’t have any property or assets. None of this is in my name.” She waved a hand around in the air, indicating our massive estate.
“But it is though. Your marriage assures that. And he couldn’t have built his little empire without your support. He would still have to take care of you and provide for you. He’d have to give you alimony,” I argued, but she had to know all of that already.
“He’d make me sorry for leaving. For embarrassing him publicly,” she said, and I realized that DD treated us both the exact same way. Like pieces of property. Pawns. And he ruled not with an iron fist, but with fear.
“You need to stop drinking,” I insisted out of nowhere, like the very concept should be that easy.
But if my mom wanted any semblance of life going forward, she needed to actually participate in it and stop numbing away her days. She had to regain control of her senses, and that was impossible to find at the bottom of a bottle.
“I never used to drink, you know. Not a drop. I hated the taste of it.” Her eyes got that faraway look in them, and I leaned closer, invested in the words I’d never heard before. “But eventually, I started looking for ways to cope.” She swallowed hard, and I knew she was talking about coping with him doing things, like canceling her appointments and hiding her credit cards. “Drinking made me numb. And being numb was so much better than being angry.”
I hated that I understood her perspective, but I did. Understanding felt like I was saying what she had done was okay when it wasn’t. I’d needed her, and she’d chosen the bottle over me. Although, in essence, she’d chosen herself over me. Neither option made me feel that great.
“What did you do before I was born?” I asked before elaborating, “For work, I mean. You said you used to have a job. What did you do?”
“Oh, I worked at the bookstore on Main,” she said, and I knew exactly where she meant. It was the only bookstore in town. “I was the event planner there. I set up signings for all the local and visiting authors. I was the one who got all the big-name writers to come to town and hold events here. It was a really significant deal at the time, and I was so proud.”
“Did he make you stop?” I asked, wondering if DD had forced her to give up her job once I came along.
“No, but I couldn’t keep working there full-time and take care of you.” She stood up from the chair, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water.
“People do it all the time,” I said even though there was no point. That part of our history had come and gone, and it couldn’t be changed now. My tone of voice sounded way more judgmental than I’d wanted it to. She was going to get defensive if I made her feel stupid or bad about it.
“You’re right. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to be home with you. And your father agreed and supported that decision. He wasn’t always the way he is now. He used to be kind,” she started to defend him, but I didn’t want to hear it. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with a monster,” she added.
I realized that I’d been seeing him that way for years without even considering that he used to be someone else. But the truth was, I didn’t care.
It was hypocritical of me to accept the reasons why my mom had changed but not want to do the same for my dad, but it was how I felt. I couldn’t give a shit if he had once been a decent human being because he was no longer that person. All that mattered to me now was who he had become. He seemed to relish in being cruel.
“Mom, you don’t want me to work for him, do you?” I had no idea why I’d asked that particular question in this particular moment.
And I could tell that she was caught off guard.
“I don’t. But only because you don’t want that. I just want you to be happy.”
“Have you ever told him that? Have you ever tried to make him see reason?” I asked, desperate for her to be on my side for once. I needed her to fight for me because it wasn’t working on my own.
She sat back down next to me and reached for my hand. “Oh, honey. It took everything in my power to convince him to let you go to Fullton State. That was one hell of an argument that went on for weeks,” she said before looking right into my eyes. “I just don’t have any fight left in me for anything else. And he wouldn’t allow it anyway.”
It was my mom who convinced my dad to let me go and play baseball there? All this time, I’d had no idea how it’d happened. I always thought she was sitting here, drunk, feeding me to the fire, but she was trying to save me from it.
“Mom”—I shook my head as I gripped her hand—“you don’t have to stay here. You can leave. Come back to California with me. You can stay with Sunny. She’d love it.”
She looked away from me and pulled her hand from mine. “I’m not ready to do that, Mac. I appreciate what you’re saying. It’s sweet. But I’m not quite there.”
Even though I hated her response, it was honest. She could have placated and fed me some bullshit line, but she hadn’t. She’d told me the truth, and I had to respect that.
The sound of one of the garages opening caused us both to stop talking and stare at each other in silence. DD was home.
Story time was officially over.
Merry Christmas to Me
Mac
I’d revel in all the information my mom had shared with me the other day as I took long drives in my car. I never had a particular destination in mind. I simply liked being on the road, driving. Something I never got to do in California. Plus, it might be shallow, but I really missed my fucking car.
With the windows down, the music blasting, and my mom’s words in my ears, I would think about why it had taken us so long to have that conversation. Maybe it was because she was sober-ish or because I was finally old enough to listen instead of fight back. But now that we’d talked, I felt closer to her than I had in years. We’d reached a silent understanding, and instead of being angry with her like I usually was, I found myself blaming her less and loving her more.
When I’d called Sunny to fill her in on everything, she had practically burst into tears on the phone. She was so overjoyed to hear that I was mending fences while I was home. She’d said she was proud of me and wished she were here.
I was grateful she wasn’t.
I never wanted Sunny to step foot in this fucking house. But when she sent me an X-rated voice message after seeing a picture of me in my tux for the holiday party, I started second-guessing that idea. I decided that she could be here as long as she was underneath me or on top of me or her legs were wrapped around my shoulders, cutting off the circulation to my head. Only under those circumstances.
“You almost ready?” My mom poked her head inside my bedroom and saw me fidgeting with my tie. I knew how to tie one, but I always made it crooked. She walked over to me, reached for it, and fixed it. “There.”
I looked in my full-length mirror and nodded. “Thanks,” I said before giving her a once-over. “You look gorgeous.”
My mom was wearing a floor-length red gown with deep slits in the front. Her auburn hair was done to perfection, not a single hair out of place, and her makeup looked like she belonged on a magazine cover.
“Thank you.” Her eyes softened with my words as she pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You look debonair. Did you send Sunny a picture?”
“I did.”
“What do you kids call them? Self-something?” she asked, and I knew she couldn’t be that out of touch with reality. Then again ...
“Selfies,” I corrected.
She nodded, her mouth forming a big, “Ahh.”
“Let’s go,” DD shouted from the bottom of the stairs. He sounded like he was outside already.
“Such a gentleman,” I said sarcastically.
She gave me a disapproving look. “Mac, don’t. Just behave. It will make tonight easier.”
I groaned but said nothing back. She hated putting on a show as much as I did, and I only had to do it once a year. My poor mom had to do it constantly.
The holiday party was a nightmare. And I couldn’t even get any solace from my girlfriend since I wasn’t allowed to bring my cell phone inside. Texting her all night would have been a thousand times better than being here and pretending to give a shit while watching everyone kiss DD’s ass.
All the higher-ups in the company eventually introduced themselves to me and told me they couldn’t wait until I was officially a part of the company. They all seemed to be under the impression that I had a firm start date when I’d never agreed to shit. Unless you counted the deal that I’d signed when I was eighteen—and we knew that Dick certainly did. To be honest, the whole night felt like a sales pitch, filled with old guys faking excitement at me coming on board, telling me how great my old man was and how fun it was, being rich. They were so out of touch with reality that I wanted to rip my hair out and throw a tantrum. I almost did, but my mom stopped me.
She had done her best to stay sober during the event, but when I noticed her doing shots at the bar, I walked over and paced her before it got out of control. I hadn’t done it for my dad’s sake, but for my mom’s. I knew that DD would have punished her once we got home, and living with him was punishment enough for anyone.
“It’s not worth it,” I whispered toward her as she put the glass down.
She smiled at me. It was big and fake. “I hate this more than anything,” she admitted, and I could relate. “And he’s been putting on the charm for the ladies all night long.”
I turned around to see what my mom was talking about, and it didn’t take me long to see what she meant. DD was standing next to some girl who was definitely younger than him, his hand touching her lower back every few seconds. I couldn’t be the only one who noticed. Maybe he was just flirting, or maybe he was a cheating prick. I had no idea, but I’d never seen him with anyone else before or heard any rumors about him with other women.
“Doing shots alone at the bar will only make you look bad. Not him.” I wanted her to see it from a different viewpoint. “They’ll say that he’s flirting with other women because you’re a drunk. No one knows the side of him that we do. They don’t see it.”
She swallowed and sucked in her cheeks. “You’re right. I always forget that they don’t know.”
“Don’t let him win,” I said, taking her arm in mine and leading her to the dance floor.
“You’re the only person who makes this all bearable,” she said as we danced, and I felt the same way.
Without her here, I’d have left the second we showed up, consequences be damned.
Christmas morning held about as much charm as any other day. I dreaded getting up and pulling myself out of bed. There wasn’t a pile of presents waiting underneath the tree anymore. Hell, half the time, there wasn’t even a tree at all. But ever since I’d moved out of the house, DD said that paying for me to go waste my time at Fullton State was present enough, so what else could I possibly need?
He was right though. I didn’t want or need shit from him.
My only saving grace was the money that got automatically deposited into my bank account each month. My mom’s parents had set up some sort of trust for me before they died, and I’d been getting money since I was fifteen years old. I had to reach out to a financial advisor if I ever wanted to access any of it, so I tried not to touch it, knowing that at some point in the future, I was going to need it, and it was going to save me. For now, as long as I played by DD’s rules, he still let me use the credit card in my name. But I knew that one bad move by me, and that would get cut off faster than I could blink an eye.
A swift knock on my door let me know that my mom was up.
“Breakfast,” she said.
I told her, “Okay,” as I fired off a quick text to my girl, wishing her a merry Christmas. When there was no immediate response, I left my phone on my nightstand and padded downstairs.
The least I could do was not leave my mom alone with DD while I was here. The smell of food slammed into my senses before I hit the last step.
Mom’s cooking?
“That smells incredible,” I said as I walked into the kitchen, noticing my mom at the stove, making pancakes and frying up eggs.
DD sat at the table, a newspaper covering his entire face, as if waiting to be served. As I pulled out the chair to sit across from him, he folded the paper and put it down, his eyes narrowing in on me.
“Did you have a nice time at the holiday party?” he asked.
It was the first time we’d sat down together since the big soiree.
I shrugged my shoulders, sick of lying just to appease him. “It was whatever,” I said, knowing it might piss him off.
“It was whatever?” he mimicked. “Stop acting like a child, Mackenzie.”
“What?” I argued. “It was boring. It’s always boring.”
“Well, you’d better get used to it because there’s a lot more where that came from once you join the firm.”
I cleared my throat and cast a concerned look toward my mom, who gave me a small shake of her head, warning me not to push his buttons.
“Dad, look,” I started.
He pressed his elbows onto the table. If he were wearing a tie, he would have started messing with it. The sign that I was frustrating him.
“Look at what? What a gift I’ve given you? What a screwup you are? What an ungrateful, unworthy son you are? Tell me, Mackenzie, what exactly am I looking at?” The words flew out of his mouth without any effort. He didn’t have to stop and think about what names to call me or what to say. They lived right there, on the tip of his tongue, just waiting to come out and decimate me.
Normally, the blunt force of his words would have done their job. Not today.
