Page 44 of The Blessing

“So, he loves you because he has bad taste?” Dr. Russell challenges. “Is there anyone you love, Trevor? What would loving a person the ‘right’ way entail to you?”

“I love Grey and Ronnie right.” It feels so good to be able to tell someone how I feel about her.

“Ronnie?”

“Veronica, my girlfriend.”

“Oh, yes. Your neighbor, Veronica. She’s your girlfriend now? Congratulations, Trevor.”

“Thanks, our relationship is new. Very new. I only asked her to be my girlfriend a few days ago.”

“That’s wonderful, Trevor,” he says with a small, but impressed smile. “I’m glad you have someone to talk to. So, you love her the ‘right’ way, then?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “She’s all I could ever want. She’s the person I want to share my life with. I love her now and I know I’ll love her even when it hurts to do so. I’ve already forgiven her for everything she could possibly do to me.”

“Is that why you feel your mother doesn’t love you? Because she doesn’t accept you and forgive you for your past transgressions?”

I nod, he’s spot-fucking-on. “If she really loved me, she’d do so unconditionally. Even when she doesn’t like me, she’d find it in her heart to love me—but she doesn’t. She doesn’t even try. I love Grey unconditionally and he hasn’t been in my life very long. There’s nothing he could ever do that would make me stop loving him. My love for him is limitless.”

“You say that you’ve changed a lot, Trevor. Do you think the ‘old’ you could have loved Veronica and Grey?”

I considered his question for a long time. Could I have loved them just the same back then? The real question is: would I have been ready to love anyone back then? Hell, I was barely able to love myself. When I wasn’t deep in self-loathing, I was running around doing terrible shit, completely unconcerned with my own welfare. I couldn’t have loved anyone then because it wouldn’t have been right to drag them into my shitty life. I want to say I would have changed for Ronnie and Grey, but I can’t be sure. Change happens internally, the transformations that have happened in my life happened because I wanted them to.

“I would’ve wanted to love them. My judgment was so clouded back then, I could barely love myself enough to be able to love anyone else. I doubt I’d be able to change just because I fell in love.”

“Well, you’re seeing yourself clearly now,” Dr. Russell says with a smile as he jots down a few notes on today’s session. “That’s it for today, but I want to assign you some homework. I want you to do some journaling for me. Just document whatever you’re feeling in a notebook. Also, I hope you’re still considering those A.A. meetings we talked about. I know you’re hesitant about going, but it can be beneficial to talk to people who have also struggled with the same type of addictions.”

I nod, giving it some consideration, before parting ways with him and heading home. I suppose he could be right about those meetings. The only thing holding me back from going is my pride. I don’t want to admit to ever having a problem with any type of substance abuse. I feel so fucking weak saying that I had once allowed drugs and alcohol to control my life. On the other hand, I can see how admitting to and taking ownership of my problems—as well as talking with others—could help me. I’ll look into it. If it’s anonymous that means no one has to know about it. I won’t have to admit my problems to everyone—just a room full of strangers.

It doesn’t take long for me to arrive at my apartment, and before I head inside, I decide to take a moment to call my dad. After hearing his fight with my mom a few days ago, I’ve really wanted to spend some one-on-one time with him. I’ve never seen him stand up to her, I mean, truly stand up to her. Sure, he’s called her out on shit at times and they’ve fought every now and then, but he’s never gone off on her like that. Maybe he can finally see her, see the real her just the way I do. Part of me hopes that isn’t true because I know first-hand how heartbreaking that can be. Although, another part of me is glad he can finally see the truth.

When he answers my call, his voice sounds different over the phone—more somber and resigned. I’ve never heard him sound that way and I can tell he’s trying his best to mask his emotion for my sake. We make plans to meet up tomorrow after I get off work, and after saying goodbye and hanging up the phone I realize I have an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know my dad loves me and he’ll support me until the very end, but I can’t help but wonder if he’d go the same lengths for a woman like my mother. From the sound of his voice, it doesn’t seem likely.

I meet my dad at a diner near my worksite the next day. It’s a twenty-four-hour diner that serves breakfast all day long. Oddly enough, we used to come here all the time growing up. Although, today it seems just as foreign to me as my father does. He looks so somber and absolutely defeated. He’s always been so strong, the patriarch of our family growing up—a pillar of strength. So, it’s bizarre to see him like this. I decide not to say anything about it, I don’t want him feeling worse than he most likely already does. I don’t want to cause what little strength or confidence he has to waver.

He seems scarily resigned as he peruses his menu in his seat across the table from me. He looks older than the last time I saw him. It’s apparent he’s been through a lot over these past few days. His eyes are sunken in and he hasn’t smiled once since he’s arrived. It’s weird seeing him so discontent, especially here in a diner we used to come to so many times during my childhood. Of course, Dean was with us and things were happier back then. Today is such a sharp and painful contrast from our previous trips here.

The waitress comes to our table and we order our usual: Eggs Benedict for him and a mountain of chocolate chip pancakes for me, along with two black coffees. The waitress leaves but quickly returns with two mugs and a fresh pot. The silence at our table is uncomfortable, especially when happy chatter surrounds us.

“So,” I awkwardly begin as I pour each of us a cup of coffee, “how did things go after I left Mom’s party?” He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know it was a disaster.

Dad is silent for a spell, staring at his cup of coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I know whatever happened must’ve been major because I’ve never seen him act this way. Finally, he looks at me and the pain in his eyes gives me my answer.

“Your mom left,” he finally says before taking a much needed sip of his black coffee.

I sit in shock. I could never imagine my mom leaving him. She’s always been so dependent on him and has always been afraid of being alone. I wonder how she’ll fare in the world without a partner to rely on. I’m certain she’ll hate the way it looks. Appearances are everything. She likes all aspects of her life to seem neat and perfect to outsiders. Things like death and divorce are both so sloppy—contradictory to the life she wants. She can play make-believe all she wants, but her life is still just as messy as mine.

“What would make her leave?”

“I didn’t know if I loved her anymore,” he says, sincerity strong in his voice. He won’t meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I—”

“Don’t be,” he immediately cuts me off. “It’s not your fault. Your mom was not who I thought she was. Not the woman I fell in love with anymore. I never realized it until the other night. Once my eyes were opened, I couldn’t go back to living the life—the lie—I once had with her.”

I nod, accepting this. Regardless of what he says, I know I haven’t made things easy for him. My past was terrible and even now, I know I’m a nuisance. “Still, I know I never made things easy on you.”

He shakes his head. “Your mother is the way she is; that has nothing to do with you. When you were a teenager, you used to tell me that you thought she hated you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to listen at the time. Your mom was never particularly warm, and I just thought you were misunderstanding things. However, the other night I realized I was the one suffering from a misapprehension. I saw her face when you hugged her. I’ve never seen her look so cold and indifferent before… I was afraid that’s how she’d always treated you. Is it true, Trevor? Was that the way your mother always behaved toward you? Was I really that foolishly blind?”