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Brooks has never shared much of his family dynamic with me, and this situation has caught me off guard. But I try to hide my confusion. I know that his mother and stepfather raised him, but I have never met either of them; Lakin is the only family member that I’ve ever met. I really have no idea whether this possible reunion will be a happy one or not. I haven’t talked to Brooks about the situation surrounding his real father since college.
I swallow down the hesitation that is settling in my stomach like a pile of rocks. Giving the tired man before me one more once-over, I hold the door open further and ask him to come inside. “Please, let me take your jacket. Can I offer you anything to drink before I go get Brooks?” I ask closing the door.
“No thank you, I’m just hoping to speak with him,” he says, handing over his dingy blue coat that’s lined with wool; it’s obviously warm, but has definitely seen better days. The rest of his clothes look relatively new, dark jeans and a green fla
I hang his jacket on the coat hooks in the entry hallway and lead him into the living room. I look over my shoulder to ask if Brooks was expecting him.
“No, miss, I haven’t seen him in many years, and I’ve tried contacting him recently, but I could never reach him. I thought my only chance would be to show up here. I don’t want to cause any problems; I just wanted to see him.” His voice tapers off at the end; his gait slouched in defeat. I don’t know why they don’t have a relationship, and it’s not my place to meddle, but in this moment, I feel pity for both of them to have missed out on the bond that a son shares with his father.
I gesture for him to take a seat on the couch, and he obliges. I stay standing, ready to gather everyone from outside. Di
“I’m sorry; I’ve completely lost my ma
He smiles at me and lets his hand meet mine. “Nice to meet you; my name is Raymond. Raymond Michaels.”
As the name that has been embedded in my mind my entire life rolls off his tongue, I feel my body go completely rigid. Everything clicks into place as images of the mug shots, police line-up, and evidence photos flood my mind. He’s older and rougher around the edges, but I can now see the man from those photos in the man sitting before me. Every bit of my air is knocked out of my lungs, and I can feel the color drain from my face. The knots in my stomach feel like boulders weighing me down, and I try to hold myself up, but my shaky legs give out and I stumble backwards, hitting the arm of the couch, gripping it to steady myself.
Over the last month, I had given a lot of thought to this moment. What would I do if I ever came in contact with this man? What would I have the courage to say? I would pride myself on keeping my emotions in check. But with the realization that the monster of my childhood is not only in Brooks’ house, but is also his father, all of the bravery dissipates and I feel the overwhelming need to flee.
Raymond begins to stand, sensing my discomfort. “Vivian, are you all right; are you ill?” he asks, taking a step forward.
My knuckles are white, the upholstery straining under my vice-like grip. I try to compose myself by taking a deep breath. I move quickly before he can close any more of the distance between us. “I’m fine, just got a little dizzy. Let me go get Brooks for you.”
“Thank you, dear, it really was nice to meet you. You seem lovely.”
I simply nod; any words I have saved for this man fail to make it past my lips. I turn and rush into the kitchen. Without checking di
“Brooks, you need to come inside; you have a visitor waiting for you. Kids, come on in; we need to go home.” I try to yell, but my voice is strained by the tears I’m keeping at bay.
Everyone turns to look at me in confusion. “Who could possibly be here?” Brooks says as the kids groan. “Do we really have to leave? We haven’t even gotten to eat di
Brooks gives him a stern look that relays the message, ‘say one more word and you’ll regret opening your mouth.’ I ignore them all, solely focusing on my objective of getting the hell out of this house and away from Brooks, who intentionally kept this information from me. I feel betrayed–again–and this time I’m not sure if I can forgive him.
“What’s going on? Who’s here, Viv; why do you guys need to leave?” Brooks implores, stepping in the direction of the house.
My emotions are hanging on by a thread, and when the final fiber breaks, my composure melts away. “Stop asking questions!” I shout. “Blake and Emma, get in this house; we need to leave now.” The children startle at my outburst, but Brooks glides towards me. He captures the backs of my arms just as a sob breaks free, and I quickly cover it with the back of my hand. I feel his eyes roaming my face, looking for an explanation, but I refuse to let my eyes meet his.
“Please,” he murmurs. “What’s going on?” The pleading in his voice feels like sandpaper scraping against my skin. I push away from him, out of the arms that have made me feel safe; away from the man that I love that has once again broken my heart.
The children move past us and into the kitchen; once they are beyond earshot, I finally make eye contact with Brooks. “I think you know why I’m leaving.” I try to be strong and confident with each word, but as the sentence tumbles from my lips, my voice sounds like a mere whisper.
His eyes widen when he realizes I’ve discovered his secret. He takes a step forward, trying in vain to reach for me once again. “No, please no!” he says as I move away from his grasp. “Please, let me explain; please don’t go.”
Swallowing down every bit of hesitation, I turn away from my defeated man. “I’ll take Grace with me; she doesn’t need to be here right now. I’ll call Katie and have her pick her up in the morning.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Brooks’ head down, his beaten posture slouched. He slightly nods, but I don’t move right away. I stand still, just looking at him for a moment, contemplating the gravity of the situation. I feel myself questioning my decision to leave him, to walk out the door. Can I really walk away? The reasons for his decade-long betrayal seep into my mind. Did he do it because of his love for me, or because of his fear of me not understanding?
Brooks brings his hands to his face, rubbing his palms harshly across his evening stubble. When he finally looks up to see me still standing there, my mind snaps back into the present. Finding my voice, steady and strong, I address him once last time. “When the lies run, Brooks, I hope the truth finally sets you free.” Before he can speak, I turn on my heel, briskly leaving the kitchen.
Brooks doesn’t follow me, and I don’t bother going back into the living room to give my goodbyes. I meet the kids at the door where all three have congregated. I let Grace know she’s staying at our house instead, and we all leave. It’s not until I hear the click of the door behind me that I finally let my tears run down my cheeks. I walk away from the house, believing I’m walking away from love.
Brooks
I hear the slam of the front door, leaving a silence throughout the house that blows a hole into my heart, exploding it into a million little pieces. I expected a desolate sadness, or even numbness to overtake my body; instead I feel a boiling anger flow through my veins, heating my skin and causing my heart to pound out of my chest.