Room For More(67)
She wasn’t the only one trying to reach me. My mom had called me so many times, I was surprised she hadn’t sent out a search party for me yet.
My phone rang again and I knew that I couldn’t ignore her much longer.
“Hello, Mom.” I said flatly as I answered.
“Brody! How are you?” She sounded relieved.
“Fine.”
“That’s good.” She tried hard to sound like everything was normal. “I’ve been worried about you. You haven’t been returning my calls.”
“I know.” I took a deep breath and held it for a second. “Listen, Mom. I owe you an apology for the way I stormed out the other night.”
“Stop right there. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want you to say it. You don’t owe me any apologies.”
“Yes, I do,” I argued.
“No. There’s no handbook to life, Brody. No rules on how you’re supposed to handle situations,” she said softly. “You were given news that was upsetting and you reacted. You’re allowed to react. I didn’t expect you to be happy about our divorce.”
“I know, Mom, but I shouldn’t have flown off the handle the way I did.”
“It’s okay. Really,” she assured me.
“So, how are you with all this, Mom? Really?” I wanted to get her opinion on things without my dad sitting next to us.
She paused for a second and I was worried that I’d pissed her off. “I’m good, Brody.” She sounded perkier than I was prepared for. “I’m actually totally at peace with it. It’s for the best, it really is.”
“Seriously?” I exclaimed. “I just don’t get that. Thirty years, Mom.”
“I know how long I’ve been married. Things have just changed. It’s no one’s fault. We just have to learn to roll with the punches.”
She was sounding a little happier about her current situation than I would have been, though she had already known about this for a year. Apparently she’d adjusted well.
“Is Dad around?”
“Uh, yeah. I think he’s out in the workshop. Let me take him the phone.”
A few seconds later, I heard scratching on the phone—like someone was holding it against their shirt—muffled talking, and then my father’s gruff voice.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Son. How are you?”
“Pretty shitty. How are you?”
“Hanging in there.” He’d shown almost no emotion as far back as I could remember. I don’t know why I thought now would be different.
“I wanted to talk to you for a minute and tell you that I’m sorry for the way I left the other night. That whole conversation with you and Mom was a shock, but I shouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.” I took a deep breath and swallowed my pride. “I’m most sorry for accusing you of cheating on Mom and calling you a bad dad. It was reprehensible and I’m so sorry.”
“Water under the bridge, Son. Don’t sweat it.” I could hear light hammering in the background and Dad’s AM radio station. That workshop was the best thing that ever happened to him. He spent hours and hours out there.
“I’d feel a lot better if you’d call me an asshole or something.”
“Fine. It’s water under the bridge, asshole.” Dad laughed. “Really, don’t give it a second thought.”
There were unanswered questions I had from the other night, and I don’t know why, but they just started flying out of my mouth. “So what happened, Dad? Where did this all come from?”
A hefty sigh filled the phone line. “Honestly, I don’t know. One night last summer, she made my favorite: barbecued pork sandwiches. We were two bites in and she told me she wanted a divorce.”
What?
“Wait. This wasn’t a mutual thing?” I was shocked by what he’d just said.
“Far from it, Brody. I love your mother. Love her just as much today as the day I married her, probably more.”
“So what the hell? Why aren’t you fighting her on this?”
“She’s made her decision, Brody. I can either be mad about it and push her away completely, or I can accept it and still have a best friend.”
“So you’re just gonna give up?” I was getting pissed again. If he still loved her, he needed to grow a set and fight.
“I don’t look at it as giving up, Son. I look at it as… she’s unhappy. I love her so much, I’m willing to let her go and be happy.”
I didn’t respond. I let what Dad said roll around inside my brain for a minute. All these years I thought my father was a simple, cold man. He was simple, but he was far from cold. Turns out he was so in love with my mom, even after thirty years, that he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness for hers. From that point on, I would never look at my dad the same way again. He was the most selfless, humble man I would ever know in my whole life, and I’d never felt like I had more in common with him than at that exact moment.