was shit going on, but nothin’ like what you’re describing. My parents tried to keep me shielded from the more sensitive topics, their private conversations, I guess you could say, but I know what you’re talking about.”
He reached for her hand and held it. Perhaps he felt like she needed that. The music poured through her like torrential rain, and she was left there… soaking wet, with her feelings.
“I don’t talk about my family much with people I haven’t known for a real long time. This was different for me.”
“Why? You don’t like to talk about them?”
“No, it’s not that. I just decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to allow resentment and past hurt impede me. I wanted to focus on the positive. When I tried to talk about my mother and father, it would seem that the negative aspects would always rise to the surface, as opposed to the good things they’d taught me and done. In my early twenties, I had made a decision to not end up like some of my friends who either felt entitled, or resentful and bitter. I want to keep the good shit, throw away the bad shit. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not in denial or trying to stick my head in the sand. Trust and believe, I remember some things well, but I didn’t want to harp on them and let the memory of them ruin me. My own mother did that. She hated her mother because of how the woman treated her. My mother did suffer, but she let it influence her life way too often. She wasn’t the captain of her ship – her dead mother was. I didn’t want to be carrying all of that baggage full of bullshit that would weigh me down. It’s easy to fall into that trap. To blame, hold it close to your heart instead of getting some counseling or making a choice to let that shit go. I can only control myself, ya know? Nobody else.”
“That’s something I really like about you.” He smiled ever so slightly.
“What?”
“That you’re just… how can I say this? I guess, a woman about your shit. You have a clear path and you seem to know what you want and need to do. You’re astute. That’s sexy.”
Her cheeks heated.
“I didn’t want to be like my parents. I just wanted to be me.”
“Do you have any brothers and sisters? You know that I have two younger brothers.”
“Yeah, I have a brother and a sister. My father’s kids. I barely know them.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because things were messy.” She shook her head. It still gave her a strange feeling all over to have to relay this information and honestly, she wasn’t certain why. “My father was married to someone else, King, and my parents were having an affair. Only my mother didn’t know it was an affair until it was too late. She was very much pregnant.”
He sighed. “Damn.”
“Yup. Now, in fairness to my father, he did in fact step up to the plate, okay? He acknowledged me, admitted what he did to his wife, and took care of me. I don’t remember this, I was too young, but my mother swears that his wife took things out on me when she’d initially let me visit. My mother said I’d come home with bruises so that was it. They’d even gotten into a physical altercation over it. The bruises could’ve been from me playing or falling, honestly, I don’t know, but she wouldn’t allow me to stay over there anymore after that. I didn’t see my sister and brother any more. We were estranged, and I suspect their mother turned them against me and my mother due to some things I’ve heard and how they’ve never tried to reach out to me when I attempted to reach out to them. My dad ended up divorcing some years later. Maybe his now ex-wife and kids blamed me for that, too. Who the hell knows?” She shrugged. “We were made to be the bad guys. Despite the fact that my mother, with all of her issues and craziness, would never get romantically involved with a man she knew was married, and told his wife that she wasn’t even aware he was married, there was still a lot of animosity.”
“We ought to write a book. That shit would make the New York Times Best Sellers List,” he teased, making her laugh. “It’s just crazy. In fact, the world is crazy…