His expression shutters. “This is not an appropriate topic.”
“It is, though,” I press. “Because it really affected me. It’s seriously screwed up my ability to trust anyone. Andif I can’t trust, I can never be happy with someone, because I’m always going to be filled with suspicions and doubt. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I…I think I do.” His shoulders sink and he sits back slightly in his chair, running a finger around the rim of his wine glass. “But I’m not comfortable with this conversation.”
“I get that, Dad. I’m not prying just to open up old wounds. I need to know what happened for my own sake. Maybe that’s selfish, but…”
“No. It’s not selfish,” he says quietly. He regards me for a second. “Does this have anything to do with the girl in the pictures?”
My first instinct is to deny it, but I’m asking him to be straight with me, so I owe him the same. “Yes. Piper Barclay.”
“This young woman has made quite an impression on you.”
“She has.”
He nods. “Well. Good. She appears to be someone who can put a smile on your face.”
I don’t respond because I don’t want the sequela to be about me or Piper. Instead, I look at him questioningly, urging him to begin.
“The truth is, your mother didn’t have an affair.” His shoulders relax a little more. “At least, not in the way you probably think she did. I know you were very young when it happened, and quite impressionable. I should’ve explained things to you.”
I’m floored by his confession. “What? You always saidshe had an affair. Your friends…everybody treated her different because of it. And nothing even happened?”
“I didn’t say nothing happened. She did engage in…an emotional affair of sorts. And she did contemplate leaving me for him. And yes, many people considered it wrong. She certainly could have been more discreet about it. But given the situation I put your mother in, I couldn’t blame her.”
Couldn’t blame her?A younger version of me clearly recalls that he most certainly did. He blamed her loudly, frequently, relentlessly.
“What situation?” I ask.
He hesitates for a moment and then confesses, “I had already filed for divorce before she reconnected with an old flame online. It was me that was unhappy, Nate. Yes, she was also unhappy, but mostly because I wasn’t giving her any emotional support or attention. She needed things from me that I just didn’t want to give. I’ve always struggled with…intimacy.”
He shudders at the word, like just saying it out loud has forced him to cross a personal boundary. It’s my turn to sit back against my chair. Cradling my wine glass in both hands, I keep my mouth shut and just let him get it out.
“Back when we first dated, I treated her like a queen. I bought her flowers, opened doors for her. I made her the center of my world. But once we got married, I stopped doing all that. I figured I didn’t need to put in so much effort anymore. Hell, I thought the whole point of marriage was that you didn’t have to keep trying to convince someone how much they mattered to you. That the rings were all the proof you needed.
“But it hurt her when I quit prioritizing her and turned into such a workaholic. Having you kids didn’t help the issue—not that we weren’t over the moon to be parents, but…it shifted the dynamic at home even more. And once you and Eliza were old enough that we could take some time to ourselves again, it was too late to go back to the way things used to be. She would ask me to spend time with her, ask me to turn off my phone and take a break from work when we were out to dinner or on a trip. When I didn’t, she started to beg for my attention, and then the begging turned to nagging. It pushed me over the edge. I decided it would be easier to just wash my hands and find myself a new wife. One that didn’t nag.”
My brow furrows. It’s shocking to hear him say this, even if I’m not overly surprised. It’s par for the course in our social circle. Men get rid of first wives and trade up for new ones all the time. But it’s a harder pill to swallow when you realize your own father was being such an asshole.
“It wasn’t until she left her laptop open, and I saw her conversations with the guy, that I realized she was desperate for what I wasn’t giving her. Deep connection, intimacy, intellectual stimulation. Sure, I could get a new wife, start over, but the result would be the same, wouldn’t it? I’d still be married to my work, continuing on the same path I was on. Or I could fight for the woman I fell for all those years ago, who gave me a son and a daughter and helped me build a life.”
Jesus Christ. This is not what I was expecting to hear at all. I thought he’d say that she went off with the pool boy or something, he caught her, and they decided to work it out. But he’s taking full responsibility for everything.
“So, you’re saying Mom never ran off with another man?”
He looks almost apologetic. “No. It never went beyond a few weeks of online conversations where they talked about old times, and he flattered her and complimented her photos. Told her what beautiful children she had, what a wonderful mother she seemed to be. They talked about books and travel and where they saw themselves in ten years. He was giving her everything I wasn’t. If I hadn’t fought for her, the outcome would have been quite different.”
“How did you fight for her?”
I’m feeling anxious now. Everything inside me wants to jump out of my chair and hunt Piper down, tell her that I’m an idiot. But I’m not sure if that’s what she really needs.
“I started by talking to her. Telling her all the reasons I appreciated her. And then I started dating her again—with my phone turned off. I took her on her dream vacations, Tahiti and the pyramids and even some crackpot yoga retreat, all while giving her my undivided attention. And I promised her I’d work hard to have a happy future with her. I apologized for being, quite frankly, an oblivious asshole. I’m sure you don’t see it when I’m with her, because I’ve always been shit at showing my emotions?—”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I interrupt, smiling to soften the harshness of my words.
He nods, “—but the truth is, I do love her. With my whole heart.”
Rubbing a hand over my jaw, I mull over what my father shared. It comes at me all at once, which makes it all the more unbelievable.