Page 58 of Seductive Swimmer
“We don’t know yet, my darling.” She looks at me, finally, and I see the dark circles under her eyes, and the worry lines on her face. “I’ve got a biopsy tomorrow. That should give us some answers.”
“I’m going with you,” I state, setting my teacup down firmly. I stand up, needing to pace, to move, do something to fight the adrenaline rush of fear.
“There’s no need, your father can—“
“Like hell he can,” I explode. “That man doesn’t have a compassionate bone in his entire fucking body. I want to take you, Mum. I came all this way, so he can damn well let me be there for you.”
My mother stands up, her spine ramrod straight. “Alexander James Devlin, don’t you dare disrespect your father like that. Now I know you are worried, and frankly, so am I. But I will not tolerate foul language in my house.”
I sag back down on the couch and drop my head into my hands. Mum walks over and sits beside me, gingerly placing her hand on my shoulder.
“I’ll be fine, Alex. I’m sure of it. But if it’s truly important for you to take me to the procedure tomorrow, I’ll speak with your father.”
I nod, suddenly exhausted from everything. Savannah. My father. My mum possibly having cancer. It’s more than I can handle, and before I know it, I feel my body start to shake as I’m wracked with giant sobs. I let my head fall forward into my hands, and sag from the weight of my emotion.
“Oh pet, oh my dear son,” my mum murmurs comforting words to me as she rubs my back. In the back of my mind, I realize I should be the one comforting her right now, but it feels so good to finally let go; I can’t seem to stop. Eventually, however, my mind calms and I’m able to get control of myself. I lean back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling, soaking in the sensation of having my mum right here next to me. To her credit, she doesn’t say anything about my breakdown, she just sits beside me, quietly, letting me compose myself.
“Do you think Dad loves you?” It’s a question I’ve never asked before, and I’m honestly curious as to how she’ll respond. After a moment, she does, and her voice is thoughtful.
“Yes, he does, in his own way.”
“Did he ever love me?”
“Oh, Alex.” She reaches over and takes my hands in hers, forcing me to turn and face her. “Yes, he does love you. He just doesn’t have the first clue what to do about that fact.”
I snort in disbelief. “That man has never shown me a single second of what I would consider love. For God’s sake, nothing I did was ever good enough for him, Mum. I went to the goddamn Olympics and it wasn’t enough. And after my accident…” I stop. The last thing I want is to make her feel guilty about that, but I’m too late.
“You’ll never know how sorry I am that I didn’t tell your father to stuff it and come to you when that happened.”
Her voice is full of sorrow and pain and I feel terrible for causing it.
“It’s okay, Mum. I’m fine now.”
“No, it most certainly isnotokay,” she says firmly. “I suppose I should have told you this a long time ago, but I didn’t think I had any right to share your father’s secrets. Now I can see that by not telling you about this part of his history, I’ve done you a disservice and possibly ruined any hope of you and your father finding the way to a healthier relationship.”
I’m confused. And curious. I sit up straighter and turn to face her fully.
“Did you ever wonder why we never saw your father’s parents?”
I shrug my shoulders, thinking back over my childhood. My grandparents on Mum’s side were around, but not often. She’s right, we never saw anyone from my father’s family.
“The Devlin’s were a heartless bunch, and that’s being polite about it.”
I have never heard such a harshly critical tone from my mother. Her eyes are hard, fixed on the wall behind me. Her hands squeeze mine even tighter.
“Your father is a good man and always has been. But his father, well, he was horrible. I’ll spare you the details, but their house was a terrible place to be. We stayed away as much as we could. When we married, your father told me he didn’t want children. He was too afraid of turning out to be the same kind of parent his father was. But then one day, we found out I was pregnant.”
My stomach churns. I wasn’t wanted. By either of my parents. Mum must sense something in my manner, because she pulls on my hands strongly.
“Don’t you dare think for one second that I wasn’t happy about having a child, about having you. Because I was. Secretly, I had yearned for children. And I hoped that your father would eventually feel the same way. Sometimes I would catch him looking at my stomach as it swelled with you inside, and I would see him smile longingly. I knew he wanted to love you just as much as I did. And when you were born, for a time he was the doting father I always believed he would be. He rocked you to sleep, gave you a bottle…he loved you.”
“What changed?” I croak out when she pauses.
Her mouth settles into a grim line. “Your dad used to work for his father. They had an argument one day, I don’t know what about. All I know is that when he came home, your father was in a right mood. Slamming doors, muttering to himself about never being good enough.”
Mum turned to me, a knowing glint in her eye. “Sound familiar?” Shaking her head with regret, she continues. “From that day on, he wouldn’t hold you unless I demanded he do so. When I would tell him about our day, he wouldn’t celebrate your achievements with me. He became the man you unfortunately know him to be now. But he wasn’t always that way. He did love you. Truly, Alex, he did.”
“What do you think happened? What did my grandfather say to him?”
