My dad patted my shoulder and told me to watch over my mom while he was gone. Then he left, got into the taxi and headed off to the airport.
That first weekend without him was better than I thought it would be. Jeff and other guys from the team came over and we ordered pizza. We watched recordings of our last football game. Coach wanted us to study them, see where we went wrong and where we could improve. And my mom seemed okay, lingering around and checking in on us. My dad was gone, but we were fine. Sure, I missed him, but it was hard to miss someone too much when you knew they’d be coming home in two days.
When my dad came back, he brought me a new gym bag and some stuff he’d gotten from the hotel with the logo on it. Water bottles, key chains—those sorts of things. My mom was thrilled. I was thrilled.
But now I couldn’t stop thinking back to all those trips.
Over the past year, there had been dozens of them. And I kept trying to remember any sort of detail that would tell me when business trips stopped being business trips. Was there a day when my mom stopped seeming happy when he returned? Was there one trip where she didn’t say “I love you” before he left? I was so excited by the gifts he brought me that I didn’t even think to pause and check if they were actually from the state he was supposedly in.
I couldn’t stop looking back. I wished the past had been recorded like my football games. Then I could rewatch it all, rewind to the moment everything changed.
Then I remembered what Becca said about searching for answers to a puzzle that could never be solved. That sounded like complete hell. I didn’t want to look back five years from now and still not know the truth.
I had to know.
I decided to tell my mom.
I had the sinking suspicion she already knew. Looking back on the past few weeks, there were some signs. The crying. The way she seemed sad, quiet. Her spilling wine during dinner and my parents’ hushed conversations behind closed doors. It was all adding up, these little clues I was too busy to pay attention to before. But now they were there, impossible to ignore.
I hoped my mom didn’t know. Because if she knew about my dad’s lies all this time and decided to keep it from me, I wasn’t sure how I’d react.
And if she had known all this time and was suffering through it alone? That would make me feel even worse.
Another part of me hoped that my mom would have some answers. Like when I told her about seeing my dad with another woman, she’d have a perfect explanation for all of this and my life would return to its normal routine of football games and fake relationships. Like maybe it was an old friend of his. Maybe it was my mom wearing a wig. Not that it would make any damn sense, but it was a lot easier to think about than the alternative.
I made the decision to tell her when I was driving home from Becca’s apartment the next morning. Spending the night watching her and her mom changed something in my head. It was like a little bit of reassurance that no matter what the truth ended up being, there was still a chance my family would be okay like hers was. It made me realize that I wasn’t going through this alone either. I had my mom like Becca had hers.
I had Becca too.
Then there was that quietness between us after what I said last night, about having a crush on her. I wasn’t sure why I said it aloud or what even made me say it. But then the words were out there in the universe and they felt right. I was starting to care about her. How could I not after what she’d done for me? Sticking by my side for all of this? Our relationship was supposed to be fake. We had a clear contract that began and ended at school. But she’d given me more than that. She’d given me her weekends and her weeknights. She’d let me into her home. The girl literally ran over to my house because I needed her. And the dinner with her mom—putting me before herself like that? How could you not like someone with a heart so big?
But I knew Becca’s stance on love and relationships. Which was her exact reasoning for having a fake one. I didn’t know what to do now. How to act without pushing her too far and scaring her away. I was walking a thin line in all aspects of my life. And with my parents’ future dangling in front of me, like a string that was slowly beginning to fray, it felt way too selfish to even dig into my feelings for Becca right now.
I pulled into my driveway and my entire body tensed. My dad’s car was parked right there. He was home. And hell, it felt so weird to feel nervous right now. My dad coming home used to be the highlight of my week and now I was here, hiding in my car because I was too scared to walk into my own house and face the truth.
How could one night at a diner change my life this much?
I walked inside. “Mom?” I called, looking around warily.
“Up here!” she yelled from upstairs. I followed her voice into her bedroom, where she was standing in front of a full-length mirror wearing a dress. There was a man pulling the fabric around her hips with a tape measure hanging from his mouth.
“Too tight?” he asked. I watched him stick a pin into the dress.
“That’s great. Can we shorten the length a little? I don’t want it to drag. Oh, hi, hon. Did you see your father when you came in? He’s somewhere downstairs.”
“No. What’s going on?” I asked.
“This is Carlos. He’s helping me with my dress for the hotel’s grand opening this weekend.”
“That’s this weekend?”
“Yes, Brett. Didn’t you see your father’s text? We’ve been calling you all morning. And where were you last night?” Before I could even answer, she was moving on. “The hotel’s opening this weekend and they’re throwing a party to celebrate. Your father and I will be there, of course, and you will as well. Go grab your suit and try it on. If you need a new one, Carlos will need to get started quickly.”
I didn’t move. I felt like I’d been sucked into another dimension.
“Brett? Your suit.”
They were both staring at me like I’d lost it.
“Can I talk to you for a second, Mom? Alone?”
“After you try on your suit.”
Slightly dazed, I went to my room and put on the damn suit. I kept listening for the sound of my dad walking up the stairs but everything was drowned out by my mom yelling my name every two seconds. “Brett! Hurry up!”
“I’m coming!”
It felt completely fucked up to be talking about suits and hotels and parties and dress sizes when I had this huge secret that felt like it was going to claw its way out of my mouth any second.
When my mom saw me, she covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh, Brett. You look so handsome. Isn’t he handsome? Come here. Let me see.”
I stood there while they hovered around, poking and pulling. “Hey, Mom? Where’s Dad?”
“Thomas!” she yelled, tugging at the fabric on my wrist. “Maybe in the basement. Do you have a tie to wear with this? You can borrow one of your father’s.”
It all felt so wrong.
“Mom.” I said it firmer this time. “Can we talk for a second?”
Sensing that something was off, she stopped fixing my suit. Her eyes lifted to mine and she signaled for Carlos to give us a minute alone. “Something wrong?” she asked when it was just the two of us.
Now what? Where was I supposed to start? How did I even bring something like this up?