“Oh my gosh,” she breathes, “that is delicious.” She holds out her hand for a high five. “We should be on one of those amateur cooking competition shows.”
“I’ll stick to spinning yarns.”
Paisley laughs, rummaging through my cabinets until she locates bowls. She does the same thing with my drawers until she finds silverware. I could’ve told her where to find those things, but I was busy enjoying watching her get acquainted with my kitchen.
“All right,” I say to Paisley as we settle at my small table. “Tell me about your mom and dad.”
“That’s a loaded question.” She takes a bite, pausing to chew, then corrects herself by saying, “It’s more like the answer to that question is loaded.”
Lucky for me I don’t have to go into detail about my parents. It’s not me who’s taking Paisley to a landmassaccessible only by boat and having her spend the week with my mom and dad.
I stay quiet, taking another bite and waiting.
“My mom and dad are divorced. He cheated, as you know.” Her gaze flicks to mine, then back down. She takes another bite, chews and swallows, then wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You also know I caught him cheating.” She sighs, like whatever it is she’s about to say still weighs heavy on her. “We were on Bald Head Island when it happened. It was with the woman who was staying at the house next to ours. When his infidelity finally came to light, everyone sort of blamed me for what happened as a result. The divorce, and all the ugliness that went with it.”
I nod calmly, or at least that’s how I hope it comes across. My thoughts are a little morewhat the fuckmixed withwho’s delusional enough to blame Paisley for her dad’s behavior?
“That’s awful,” I say, which isn’t enough, but I can’t think of what to say that isn’t derogatory about her father. At the end of the day, the man is still her dad, no matter what he did.
That thought has my fork stilling midair, the realization of my words slingshotting against my brain, reverberating down into my heart.
Do I really believe no matter how badly a mom or dad behaves, they’re still your parent?
A minute ago I would’ve said absolutely not, but that errant thought snuck up on me, and now I’m not so sure.
I rest my fork on my plate, indignation spurring in my chest. My polite initial reaction is fading fast. “Actually,Paisley, that’s more than awful. That’s cruel and selfish. Please help me understand how your family blames you.”
“Not my mom. Just my dad and my siblings.” She sits back, crossing her arms. “They said it was only a kiss, and I blew it out of proportion. I can see where my brother and sister were coming from, because it was a total disruption to everyone’s lives. I get that it would’ve been easier for them if it had stayed buried.”
“Paisley, it’s not your fault no matter what anybody says. Your siblings were young and probably responded with a commensurate level of maturity, but your dad blaming you is unbelievable.” The longer I spoke, the more ardent my tone grew, and now I sound like I’m delivering an impassioned speech. But I’m not done. “He’s also wrong, and I bet he really blamed himself but his ego couldn’t take it. Has he grown up since? Apologized?” I fear I already know the answer.
“No, but maybe this trip he will. He’s kept me at arm’s length for so long, you’d think…” She shrugs, but there’s hurt behind her eyes. “So, anyway, you’ll get to see the whole fam in all their glory. My mom hates my dad, but she’s moved on. She has a boyfriend now, and he’s young. Like,young.” Paisley says this with wide eyes.
“How young?”
“He could bemyboyfriend.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. And she isn’t shy about their, uh”—Paisley searches for the word—“enjoymentof one another.”
Once again I’m nodding calmly, but on the inside I’m throwing up in my mouth.
Paisley continues. “It gets more interesting. My daddidn’t want the divorce. He claims my mom’s having a mid-life crisis and he’s waiting for her to”—Paisley makes air quotes—“come back home.”
“Then why did he cheat?”
“A momentary indiscretion. A lapse in judgment.” Paisley rolls her eyes. “Those are his words, not mine.”
“I’m sorry you were the one to find him. That’s really shitty.”
“That part gets worse, too. He knew I saw him, and he asked me not to tell. Stupidly, I listened to him, but it ate me up inside. The anxiety and guilt made my stomach hurt, and then I actually became sick. I had a physiological response to the stress of keeping his secret. I wrote it down on a piece of paper just to get it out of me, and my mom walked into my room. I tried to hide it from her, but she saw that I was nudging the notebook under a stack of schoolwork, and she snatched it up.” Paisley laughs once, an empty sound. “I think I would’ve eaten that piece of paper before I let her read it. How fucked up is that?”
“Pretty damn bad.”
“So,” Paisley takes her last bite. “My mother will be busy parading her young, hot boyfriend around in front of my father. My father will be busy making disparaging remarks. It’ll be grand.”
“That would be great in a future story.”
