Bad Boy Benefits

(20)

My heart lurched when I recognized the song playing. It was the song my mom and dad danced to at their wedding. I hadn't heard it in a while, but the familiar melody and lyrics reminded me of times I had almost forgotten.

Or tried to purposely forget.

"Mom?" I hesitantly hovered in the doorway. I was not prepared for this.

I saw her back tense and she quickly put her glass down, rubbing at her cheeks before turning to face me.

My stomach dropped. Her eyes were glassy with visible stains of mascara underneath them. She looked pink in the cheeks and I could see her lips quivering.

"Ivy, I didn't expect you to be back yet," she smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Dinner wass cut shortt" I stammered, unable to comprehend what I had just walked into. I hadn't seen my mom cry since the funeral and even then it was barely a sniffle.

"Come sit with me," She gestured to the empty spot next to her and I nodded, nervously sitting beside her. I didn't know what to do with my hands so I placed them on my lap and fiddled with my thumbs.

We were silent for a couple of seconds just the song filling the empty space. Without saying anything, she picked up a picture and passed it to me. I look down and felt an ache in my chest.

It was a picture of my father.

He was young, a lot younger than I remember seeing him. He must have been in his early twenties way before I was born. He held a ginormous pint of beer in his hand and grinned cheekily at the camera. 

"That was in Germany," She added her eyes never leaving the picture "We traveled Europe together, I remember that night so well. Your dad drank two of those and ended up passed out in the bathroom with his head in the toilet,"

I croaked a laugh, "I'm not surprised, that glass is the size of his head,"

"And this one," She picked up another picture and grinned, "Is the night you were born,"

I sucked in a breath. Slumped against a chair my dad held baby me in his arms. The look of happiness evident in his eyes and the smile that stretched across his cheeks as he looked down at me. I had never seen him happy like this before. Growing up all I remember is this heavyweight he carried on his shoulders. He would be present in a room but his mind elsewhere.

What had happened between then and now for him to feel so differently?

I didn't realize I had been crying until I saw a tiny droplet of liquid fall onto the picture. I quickly rubbed my eyes and put the picture down. Standing up abruptly and marching towards the door.

Why was she doing this? She had spent so long pretending as if he never had existed and now she wanted to sit down and reminisce.

"Ivy, where are you going?"

I span on my heel and my mom flinched at the anger coiling inside me, "I'm going upstairs, I can't deal with this bull shit,"

"Ivy listen"

"No you listen," I spat interrupting her, "He has been gone for years and now you want to look through pictures and talk about the good old days, well sorry but that's over, dead, just like he is,"

Tears brimmed my eyes and I didn't even bother to stay and listen to her scramble a response. I ran up the stairs into my room and slammed the door shut.

Sliding against the frame until I was a heap on the floor. I let the tears betray me. I wrapped my arms around myself as rapid sobs made my body shake. I wished I could bring him back to say I'm sorry, that I was sorry I didn't do anything to help him that day. I didn't notice the signs. I should have stayed home from school like we'd planned but I got so caught up in trying to make friends that I didn't give it a second thought.

Maybe I could have stopped him from killing himself.

I don't know how long I was there for but the light streaming through my blinds indicated I that I had been there all night.

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