Page 13 of Puck King
“We had to.” Mom’s strong voice was soft. “We knew that things were tight for you and Brian.”
“Mom.” I took a sip of the milky tea. “I have good and bad news for you.”
Before I could continue, a burst of cold air shot through the hallway and my dad’s heavy boots stomped on the doormat. If I thought my mom had aged ten years, my father looked like he’d grown twenty years older. His dark hair had gone mostly gray, and his full tanned face seemed sunken and creased with wrinkles.
“Alison.” He opened his arms wide and I leaped to hug him. I felt safe in his arms, but it didn’t stop the worried thoughts from racing through my mind.
“What are you doing here?” My dad squeezed me tightly and then pulled a bowl from the cupboard to scoop himself some chili.
I returned to my seat at the table and took a reluctant bite of the chili, but it wasn't sitting well in my stomach. “I wanted to get away from the city for a while.” It wasn’t a lie.
“I get that.” My dad chuckled and took his seat at the table after kissing my mom on the cheek.
I wanted what my parents had. They had been neighbors growing up and had spent many years as friends, playing together in the fields. I let my dad take a couple bites of food before I continued. I cleared my throat, unsure how to start the conversation with my father. “Dad, Mom told us that you were at the bank.”
“She did, did she?” My dad dunked his bread in the chili and took a bite.
Mom glanced at me and then looked seriously at my father. “What did they say?” she asked quietly.
My father was a private person and we never talked about his personal finances. Ever. “We can discuss that later, Susan,” he said.
My mom looked a little sheepish. “I've already told Alison about the loans.”
My dad stared into his bowl of chili. “That fucking shark,” he muttered underneath his breath. He took one more bite and dabbed at the sides of his mouth with one of my mom's handmade napkins. “Well.” He sighed. “The bank isn’t the same as it used to be.”
“Oh.” Mom folded her hands on the table in front of her. “They said no?”
“They said no.” Dad shook his head while he ate.
My heart ached for my proud father. “Dad, I have news.”
He looked grateful for the distraction. “What is it, dear?”
I realized that it wasn't going to sound like happy news. “Brian and I have separated.”
The spoon clattered against the side of my dad's bowl. “You’re what?”
“It's okay. It’s fine, it's good.” I spoke quickly.
“What happened?” My parents spoke at the same time.
I hadn't thought about how I was going to explain the infidelity, but if we were sitting around the kitchen table baring our souls, it didn't feel right to lie – even if it was by omission. “He had an affair.” I was surprised at how matter of fact it came out. “More than one, I think.” The room went silent and I took a sip of my tea. It felt good to say it out loud.
“So it's over?” Dad’s eyes were kind and he looked sad.
“It's definitely over.” I nodded.
“Thank God.” My mom's hand went to her chest and then her hand clapped on her mouth. “I didn't mean it like that,” she said quickly through her fingers.
Stuart laughed. “I knew it. I knew you didn’t like him either.” His grin was huge.
“Stuart.” Dad snapped at my brother, then stood and rinsed his bowl in the sink. “Brian had some good qualities.” He returned to the table. “Your sister married him for a reason. I couldn’t see those reasons, but I trusted that Alison knew what she was doing.”
I couldn't believe it. My family had basically told me they hated my husband the entire time I was with him. “You didn't like him either, Dad?”
“I liked him when you did,” my dad said diplomatically. “I sure as heck don't like him now. As a matter of fact, I'm glad my shotgun is oiled up. If he ever sets foot on this farm again it'll be ready for action.”
“Chester,” my mom gasped.
