“Is that what you think?” My mom asks, tears pooling in her own eyes.
“I don’t simply think it, the past three weeks have proven it.”
“Your actions and words according to Darcy paint a different picture,” Dad adds in.
“You don’t think I replay her words over and over in my head?” I cry out, my breaths coming in heavier. “You think that I didn’t hear all of the praise she gave me? I know she thinks I’m enough! She doesn’t understand that it’s not about what she thinks of me, it’s that I don’t feel like enough!” I poke myself in the chest, screwing my eyes shut and trying to ward off the cracks that continue to break inside my chest.
“You won’t know that you aren’t good enough if you quit before you’ve had the chance to get started.” My mom’s voice is now beside me and her hand comes to my back, gently circling like she would do when I would get upset when I was younger. I find myself leaning into her touch, seeking out the comfort.
“How do I fix it? She’s got to hate me by now.” I can’t live without her, I love her and will do anything to get her back, but those words are reserved for her alone.
“You get in your car, you go home and you communicate. You work for it. She’s worried sick over this, Son. All she wants is for you to be back with them and for you to talk to her. She mightneedmore after that and you best believe you’re going to have to put in the work for it.” Dad speaks softly, “Do you remember when your sisters were born, and Aunt Bea came and stayed over for a few weeks? That was because we brought your sisters home and all they did was cry, your mom cried, and I cried. We didn’t know what to do, but we knew that if we stayed on the path we were on, it was going to negatively impact our marriage and you three. So we had a conversation, we figured it out and we fought damn hard. We even went to therapy a few times while you were in school. Healing a relationship is a slow and painful process. My point is this, if you truly love something or someone, you will fight until every emotional bone in your body is bruised, battered, and broken.”
“Oh.” My mind swirls as I try to process this tidal wave of information, things I didn’t realize my parents faced because they sheltered us from them all the while. “What if she can’t forgive me?”
“While I don’t see that happening, if it does, you two will figure out how to proceed,” Mom says softly.
“Well, it appears I have my work cut out for me. I’m sorry that I worried you all.”
“It’s okay, Son, let’s go.” At that, we are grabbing my gym bag and loading into our cars.
* * *
Pullinginto my parking spot at the condo has my stomach tied in knots. My parents were following closely behind me as we drove back over the bridge into Tampa. I step out of the car, nodding to my parents where they wait for the twins to come downstairs. Stepping into the elevator, the floors tick by, and with each ding, my anxiety ratchets up a notch, my stomach clenches and my heart races until the doors slide open and I step into the condo. My sisters pass me in the hallways, giving me small yet sympathetic smiles.
My steps slow as I get closer to the living space and when I round the corner, I’m greeted by Darcy’s puffy, red eyes—tears rolling down her face and onto the blanket that Hayden is wrapped in. My feet quickly take me across the room but I stop in my tracks when she flinches the slightest bit, afraid of my touch. My fragile facade crumbles instantly, because what kind of man am I to cause this much damage? I opt to sit beside her on the couch, giving her a foot of space between us.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” I say through my tears, “I am so fucking sorry.”
“Please don’t call me that right now.” Her voice is cold and detached.
“Can I hold him while we talk?” She doesn’t say anything, but hands me our son then shuts me out by scooting to the corner of the couch and pulling her legs into her chest. For the first time, our son doesn’t wriggle or scream in my arms. He just looks at me, confusion etched into his tiny features and the fissures in my heart widen even more. My son’s calm, as meaningful as it is, is overshadowed by the rest of this little life we created for him shattering around me.
“Go ahead, Tatum, because I don’t know what to say to you right now.”
“I shouldn’t have left like that.”
“You think?” She laughs, dejectedly.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I should have stayed and talked to you. I know that’s all I needed to do and now I’ve done irreparable damage to our relationship.”
“It’s not irreparable but I’m not ready to take you back.” With that statement from her, the fissures crack even more, my heart soon to be in pieces on the floor—it will all be my fault.
“That’s warranted, I fucked up. I needed time to think but instead of coming back to you both, I ran. I can’t even tell you why I did it. I was planning on heading to the gym but then I turned in the opposite direction and I hate myself for that.”
“Then why did you do it, Tate?” Her body visibly shakes as she weeps beside me and all I want to do is scoop her into my arms and soothe her but I know that’s the opposite of what she needs from me right now.
“No matter how many times you thanked me, told me I was doing enough, that you loved me, the fear that you were starting to resent me for not being helpful with him grew to monstrous levels.”
“Do you really believe that I resent you?” She asks the question and I can hear her voice softening the more we speak but her body language remains closed off.
“No. In fact, I know that every word you spoke to me was said with sincerity and love behind it but every perceived failure came with a whisper, echoing how it was only a matter of time before you changed your mind.” I’m laying my cards out at my feet, being honest and it’s terrifying.
“Because we built trust and love and growth here, Tate. And you threw it all away because you were what? Scared?” She throws her arms in the air, the bitterness seeping through her tone. “I was fucking scared too! You disappeared! I didn’t even know if you were alive or if I was going to have to raise our son alone! I was worried sick, like made myself vomit over this, my milk supply dropped, and I’ve had panic attacks almost every day.”
I feel my head drop between my shoulders, tears still falling from both of our eyes, my body vibrating with anger towards myself.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Darcy. You’re right. I shouldn’t have left like that and I swear I won’t do it again.” I need to face the consequences of my actions and I need to prove to Darcy that I won’t do that stupid shit again.
