Lakeside Cougars - The Complete Trilogy, page 54
“Well, for one, I’m not the most charismatic of individuals, I’m actually kinda weird, but for two, I couldn’t bring anyone over. Like, ever. Because my mom was just so embarrassed about the state of the house all the time, and yet never actually fucking did anything about it. Just expected me to. And she was so paranoid that I was going to die that she would hardly let me go over to anyone else’s house. And school sucked shit top to bottom, so it’s not like that was a relief.”
“I’m sorry, Atticus.”
“This is why I don’t like talking about it. It just brings the mood down. I guess this is why I need a fucking therapist.”
“We all have damage, Atticus,” Colleen said quietly. “We all had things done to us. We all made mistakes. We all took risks and failed, sometimes spectacularly. We should not be ashamed because of this. Scars and broken dreams and regrets are natural consequences of really living your life.”
“That...is a very valid point.” He glanced at a clock on the wall and groaned. Their time was almost up. He stood. “I guess we should face the music.”
“If it helps, I’m looking forward to making your parents uncomfortable,” Colleen said with a tentative smile.
He chuckled. “It does help, actually.”
…
“Fuck,” Atticus said as he parked against the curb in front of his parent’s house.
“You okay?” Colleen replied.
“Yeah, just...weird being back here. It has actually been a long time since I’ve physically come here. Hmm. It just occurred to me that they never really complain about that. But not in the ‘I want you to live your own life the way you want to’ kind of way, but in the ‘I don’t really care if you’re around or not’ kind of way.”
He leaned forward suddenly as his mind latched onto something. “That’s it! That’s what it is! I can fucking articulate it now! I never felt like their son, I felt like their roommate. There was always this...this degree of detachment, this degree of separation, between us. And now they only want money...am I a fucking sociopath? Because this isn’t bothering me nearly as much as it should. Like I’m not happy about it, I am upset, but...not that upset? I feel like this should be devastating.”
“I think I might know what happened,” Colleen offered.
“I am so listening.”
“I think you’re in a kind of ‘Goldilocks Zone’ of neglect. Your parents were involved enough that I think at some core level you felt like you had parents, but not enough that you weren’t neglected. And because this is how it’s always been, you’ve had your whole life to get comfortable with this idea, even if it isn’t a comfortable idea. In other words...you aren’t really mourning this because you have already mourned, long ago.”
He contemplated that for a bit. It did make sense. It reminded him of Edith’s statement, that he was mourning who they could have been.
He nodded slowly. “I think you’re right.” He looked again at the house, then snorted. “Well, let’s go introduce you.”
Colleen simply grinned.
They got out and walked across the patchy yard to the front door. Atticus tried to remind himself that he really shouldn’t take much pleasure from this, and that he should just get through it as quickly as possible.
He knocked on the door. It opened very quickly and there was his mother. She looked remarkably put together, which meant that she had been drinking. It was what she did when she was drunk but suddenly had to do something important and wanted to seem like she wasn’t. Well, she seemed more or less sober right now, though, so maybe not. Or maybe she’d just gotten started when she’d actually realized he’d sent a text and that’s why they’d ‘be home’ in half an hour.
“Atticus–” she said, and then stopped dead as she saw Colleen. For a moment, she simply stared, her confusion plain. She took a moment to compose herself. “Hi.”
“Hello,” Colleen replied.
“...who are you?”
Colleen looked to Atticus, and then so did his mother. “Mom, this is Colleen Silver. She is my girlfriend. We met in Lakeside.”
His mother stood there staring at them in such profound confusion for long enough that his father apparently got tired of waiting. He walked up and came to stand a little behind his mother, and then he stopped and got a little confused as well.
“Atticus...who’s this?” he asked.
“His girlfriend,” his mother murmured.
And then his father stared in something like stunned silence as well. Well, this was fun, but he knew he needed to keep it moving.
“We should talk,” he said.
“Right,” his mother replied, and they slowly backed away to make room.
They walked into the living room. The same living room he’d spent time in, attempting to be with his family. He always remembered that vague sense of dislocation. He always heard about how in a great relationship–with anyone, not just your significant other–you could both be in the same room at the same time doing different things, but you were still ‘together’.
He had never felt that.
It was less that they were watching TV together, as a family, and more that his parents were watching TV and he happened to be there. It was really weird to try to describe, even inside his own head, but it was a thing that he imagined many people simply knew. They knew what it felt like, and when it was happening.
What surprised him was how deep it cut.
Not anymore, but sometimes he’d realize this back then, and it would hurt.
He supposed that’s when he had begun mourning.
He tried to maintain objectivity as he sat down cautiously on the loveseat with Colleen. His mother and father sat on the bigger couch and looked at them uncertainly.
“Clearly we have a lot to talk about,” his mother said.
“Well, I’d say we have few things to talk about, but they are very weighty,” Atticus replied. “I...have other things I need to be doing right now,” he lied, “and so I’d like to just dive right in.”
“All right…” his mother murmured uncertainly, looking at Colleen again.
“So, this is what happened: I met Colleen shortly after I got down there. I rented out the old lakehouse we used to and she now lives in the next one down. We hit it off really quickly and really intensely. I’m moving to Lakeside to live with her.”
Dead silence filled the living room like a heavy, noxious gas. Both his parents stared at him like they were waiting for him to deliver a punchline.
When it became clear that he was serious, his mother cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter. She looked at Colleen. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone with our son?”
Colleen looked to Atticus, who nodded. Smiling, she got up and walked back out the front door. He thought she would say something to the effect of ‘it was nice meeting you’, but he supposed that wasn’t true.
He’d certainly have a lot of difficulty trying to make nice with Colleen’s ex-husband or Edith’s family.
“Atticus...how old is that woman?” his mother asked.
“Forty seven,” he replied.
“God,” his father muttered. “That’s older than both of us.”
His father seemed not to know what to make of the situation, but his mother did. She looked...excited. Great.
“You said she lives in the lakehouse next to yours?” she asked. He nodded. “As in lives there? She bought it?”
“Correct,” he replied.
“Those houses are really expensive. And she looks loaded. Is she?”
He sighed softly. “Yes. I mean, not like yacht rich, but...she is very secure. She’s a writer.”
His mom’s eyes widened. “Fuck me! I knew I recognized that name! She’s got a whole goddamned section dedicated to her at the bookstore.” Her excitement grew. “Is this serious? Do you think you could get her to marry you?”
Whew boy, he was genuinely, truly at the precipice here. Like ‘half his feet were over the edge’ close to just leaping off into the Low or No Contact Abyss.
“It’s serious. And probably, yes, I could,” he replied.
He jumped into the abyss before she even spoke, her expression (and his father’s) said everything he needed to know.
“If you can get her marry to you, you can divorce her when you get tired of her and walk away with God knows how much money!” his mother replied excitedly.
Atticus sighed heavily and got to his feet. “And we’re done.”
“What do you mean we’re done?” his mother asked immediately, standing up as well.
“Mom...you just instructed your son to marry a woman entirely so that he could then turn around and ruin her life and break her heart, for money...do you hear yourself?”
“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “I know her type, I know what she’s like. She’s a cougar, a maneater. They scoop up boys like you and use them and toss them aside. Sometimes they marry them if they really like them. And she can make more fucking money. God fucking alone knows how well those books are selling. She will be fine. We, however, are not fine. I can’t find a fucking job and we have bills to pay!”
Atticus stared at her, at his father, and felt a strange mixture of emotions.
What they had suggested was pretty fucking bad, but...but what? He knew that his parents weren’t impoverished. Their house was paid off, so were their cars, and his dad had a decent job right now that he probably wouldn’t lose. Well, he shouldn’t if he could stop being unreasonable. If she really needed to, his mom could go get a job somewhere. She just didn’t want to go deal with a hell job...which he sure as shit couldn’t blame her for.
But it was one thing to choose that for yourself, it was another thing to choose that for yourself and then demand someone else pay your way.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Atticus said.
“Do what?” his father asked, and now he stood up as well.
They could tell which way the winds were blowing and they didn’t like it.
“Look...you’re my parents, and on some level I do love you, and that probably isn’t going to go away, but...this is not healthy. And it isn’t going to change.”
It was weird how calm he felt, like all of his emotions had suddenly zeroed out now that he was actually faced with this moment.
“I’m going to go no contact for a while. I just...can’t.” He began walking towards the front door.
“Are you seriously just walking out?” his father asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you have any fucking clue how much we gave up for you!?” his mother snarled. “How much bullshit I had to put up with raising you and your brother?! And this is how you repay us?!”
Atticus stared at them.
What could he say? What could he say that would make them understand? He immediately thought of a dozen different paths, a dozen different things he could try, to explain–hell, to beg–but on the heels of each were the predictable responses from his parents.
Because he knew them. He knew them too well at this point.
Now that the mysticism of childhood had been dispelled and he now understood more about the world, more about what parenting looked like, it had become painfully obvious to him that neither of them, but especially his mother, would accept any amount of responsibility. He knew because he’d tried to broach this subject with them before.
Could he blame them, though? Who wanted to hear that they were a bad parent?
Finally, he came to a decision.
“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say that will change my mind, and I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will make you understand why I am doing this. Which means we’re at an impasse. But I cannot deny that you did sacrifice, and despite the fact that you clearly loved John more-and don’t deny it-” he said, raising his voice a little when his mother tried to speak, “-but that doesn’t matter anymore. So this is what I’m going to do.”
Atticus pulled out his phone. He wasn’t sure if this was the smart call, but he couldn’t deny that he felt at least somewhat bad for them, and they did have a point. Rough as it could be, they had done most of the bare minimum of their basic responsibilities as parents.
Well...maybe ‘most’ was a little generous.
“I’m going to send you...fifteen hundred dollars, and then I’m going to walk out of here, and then we won’t speak to each other for the next twelve months.”
It bothered him (but not much) how much they immediately relaxed when they heard the fifteen hundred figure. He sent it quickly through the app and then he deleted the contact and pocketed the phone. He waited for his mother to check her own phone and confirm it, just so that she didn’t come after him again.
He expected them to say something, anything, as he walked out of the living room and out of their life, but they didn’t say a word, even as he closed the door behind him.
Colleen was waiting for him on the porch.
“...are you okay?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m not sure,” he replied, his voice a little distant. “Um...did you order the hotel room?”
“Yes,” she said, taking his hand. She began guiding him towards the car. “I did. It’s ours for the night.”
“Good. I think I need to go there and lay down for a bit.”
“Of course, dear.”
As he came up to his car, he reached for the door handle and then stopped. Frowning, he raised his hand before his face and studied it.
It was shaking.
“...can you drive?” he asked.
“Oh, Atticus,” she whispered. “Yes, I can drive. I’ll take care of you.”
“Thank you.”
He walked stiffly around to the passenger’s side, got in, and buckled up. Once she was sure he was in safely, Colleen began driving.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Something was definitely off, but he couldn’t be sure of what.
They said very little as they drove through the city, and before he knew it, they were there. Then she handed him his suitcase and took hers and they walked into the lobby. A sensation of bewilderment had settled firmly across him, and it was growing stronger.
Before he knew it, they were in their room.
“What do you want to do now, Atticus?” Colleen asked gently.
“I think–”
Something wrenched furiously inside of him. Some strange and shocking twisted hard and all at once in his chest, and there was a wild, odd fury in his guts. He began to cry all at once, and he couldn’t have stopped if someone had put a gun to his head.
Colleen acted like she’d been expecting it, and probably she had. She wrapped her arms around him and held him and murmured quietly to him.
Just as he had done for her.
And Edith.
Probably Susan, too, before too long.
Atticus couldn’t remember the last time he’d really cried. It wasn’t a thing he felt the urge to do often, and it was rarer still that he gave into it.
But this felt like a tidal wave.
He stood there in that fancy hotel room, crying and holding and behind held by Colleen, for a long time.
When the tears stopped and he finally seemed to come back to himself completely, he felt flatly calm again, only...different, this time. He realized now that the calm before was a false calm, and his emotions hadn’t been eliminated so much as hidden away in an emergency compartment. And they couldn’t stay there forever.
And they had just burst out.
But now that they were out, he actually felt way better.
“How you doing?” Colleen asked cautiously.
“Um...I want to soak in the hot tub,” he replied.
She laughed softly. “Go clean up. I’ll get it going.”
“Thank you.”
He walked into the bathroom while she walked over to the corner where the hot tub had been tucked away in. Looking at himself in the mirror, he realized he looked pretty shitty. Oh well. He’d just done something really difficult, apparently, and now it was done.
Now it was done.
He felt something inside his chest relax as he truly grasped that concept. He was out from under the looming shadow of this problem. It was over. And…
Were all his problems over, now?
He blew his nose and washed his face, thinking about it.
The ones that really bugged him were, he realized.
He was no longer single.
He was no longer impoverished.
He was no longer dealing with his parents.
Atticus laughed and headed back out into the main room. He found Colleen was already naked, and she smiled invitingly to him. He walked over and gave her a firm hug.
“Thank you,” he repeated.
“Always, Atticus,” she replied.
They got into the filling tub and settled in. Atticus rested his head against the padded rim of the tub and let the steam and hot water soak into his body, relaxing him the rest of the way. After a few moments, Colleen turned off the water.
They sat and luxuriated for a bit.
“I’m okay,” Atticus said at last. “I’m actually really happy right now. I think the crying was...a lot of shit coming out at once.”
“I understand. Also…” She winced slightly.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing bad. I just wanted to broach a subject that can be difficult to talk about, but more than that, the fact that I am the one broaching the subject first, when you have shown no real concerns about it yourself, can cause misinterpretation.”
“Um...I kinda-sorta get what you’re saying, but I think you should just come out with it plainly, whatever it is,” he replied.
“Right. I want to say that you don’t have to worry about crying in front of me, that I will never hold that against you or over you, but I also don’t want you to have the thought process of: ‘I didn’t have a problem with crying in front of her, but she brought it up, does she secretly have a problem with my crying and is this her lying to herself and me?’” She sighed. “It’s...complicated. I’ve just seen it play out a lot with a lot of different scenarios.”
“Oh! Okay, I get it. No, it’s fine. I appreciate the sentiment, and I somehow already believed that.”
