Dealing With Trouble

CHAPTER 10?

The night we decided to leave began like any other. We were going out to dinner to celebrate Mom's birthday, so we spent the evening getting ready, applying subtle makeup that Dad wouldn't notice, and selecting an outfit that flattered but didn't reveal too much skin. Dad disliked dresses and skirts, so a fitted jumpsuit was ideal.

I straightened her hair perfectly, curling the ends as she watched in the mirror. When we were done, she looked exactly like the woman | remembered as a child.

Jamie had bought me a cute dress and had straightened my hair the way he preferred. Then I took my time applying makeup. I applied blush, contour, and foundation. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I made sure I did everything she couldn't. Something in me refused to submit to the same constraints, but it didn't matter. These rules were never imposed on me by Dad, only on her.

Mom said softly, "Come on. We're not going to be late."

As we walked down the hall, she was nervous. I could feel her behind me, readjusting her jumpsuit and rubbing her cheeks to remove the blush, so I reached out and grabbed her hand, letting her know everything was fine.

Dad grinned the moment he saw us, and Mom's relief as he drew her into a hug was palpable. "Do you know I'm the luckiest guy in the world?" he exclaimed. He kissed her on the cheek before spinning her around and setting her on her feet. "Lori, happy birthday."

Things only improved once we arrived at the restaurant. Dad was himself again, the most logical version of himself. He told us to order whatever we wanted and spent the entire meal gushing about how beautiful Mom was, how many colleges I'd get into, and how I'd be the best teacher the world had ever seen.

By dessert, he'd promised to take us on a vacation to Hawaii or the Maldives, both of which my mother had always wanted to visit. "We'll get you a new camera for the trip," he squeezed her hand, "and you can show off your incredible photography skills." Mom beaming as he showered her with compliments, reminding us of all the reasons we adored him, and everything was once again perfect.

Then there was the check. The waiter waited patiently as Dad pulled out his business card and inquired about the meal. She avoided his gaze with a polite smile. "It was fantastic, thank you."

His other side reappeared less than two hours later. "You were flirting with him right in front of my face," he said from the upstairs landing as I listened. "Lori, admit it. Do you recognize him from somewhere?"

Then there was silence. My mother used to argue back and try to defend herself, but she now stays quiet. I hovered outside the kitchen, my breath held. I strained my ears to find his voice, which was the only one I could hear. It had always been his.

He hunched over my mother, his hand gripping her phone. He was big enough that his body completely obscured her view.

"Lori, who else are you messing around with? Again, whose numbers have you been saving as women?" He frantically scrolled through her contact list before pressing a number and waiting for the phone to ring. He hung up as soon as he heard what I assumed was a woman and tried again.

"Stop," Mom said quietly as she reached for her phone. "You're going to make me look bad."

"Then please tell me," he begged. It was the calm, desperate tone he always used with us, the kind you'd use to say "I love you" or something sweet. It was the source of the confusion. "Are you still seeing him?" Silence answered his accusation, and I was afraid he could hear my racing heart at any moment. "If you don't respond, Lori, I'll call every single person you know and tell them what you've been up to behind my back."

Her defeat was visible on her face. "He was a client for the last time. He was interested in purchasing a photograph I had taken."

His other hand reached down and gently cupped her cheek. "You're telling the truth." His voice broke on the second word, full of pain. "How come you saved his number as someone else's if he was just a client?"

"Because I needed to be able to contact him, and I knew how you'd react if you saw his name in my phone!" Mom exclaimed. I just wanted to stay away from it.

"You don't have to break down," Dad said, wiping away her tears, "I'm just asking a simple question."

This was my least favorite version of him. When he yelled, it was easy to understand the hatred in my veins, but this version confused me, made something awful ache deep in my chest. His brokenness left doubt in my resolve, and as his eyes began to water, I didn't see his cruelty; I saw a man who needed help.

"I can't do this anymore," Mom whispered.

My father stilled. Behind his crazed eyes, I could see his mind turning, processing her words. The veins in his neck grew in size, and his pale skin reddened. Whenever his face turned like this, I knew we were past the point of reason.

"If I'm so awful, if I'm everything you say then why don't you leave?" He said. "I put a roof over your heads, I spend all day working in a stressful job, tell you I'm going to take you on vacation, and this is how you thank me?"

My breathing feels labored. Whatever happened next because of my actions, Mom would take the brunt of it; she always did. "It was an accident," I said. "I didn't-|| just,"

"Stop. Stop lying." He pushed Mom aside and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me toward him."No matter how much I do for you, it's never good enough."