14 The Things I Did

"THE THINGS I DID"

"Dad? Why didn't you wake me up?" I asked through a yawn as I came down.

It was nearly lunch time. We usually got up early to make breakfast together. My dad sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the wall with a cup of coffee in front of him that looked untouched.

"Dad?" I touched his shoulder, finally snapping him out of his head.

"Oh. Hey, kiddo," he touched my hand that was still on his shoulder. Slowly, he zoned out again.

"Dad, you're freaking me out," I said, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down. "What is it? Is it mom?"

She seemed to be the only thing to put him in a state like this. Even though she hasn't talked to me, she has still gone to counseling with my dad. This time around, the separation had been hard on him. I couldn't imagine how jarring it was to wake up one day to see that the woman you married was someone else entirely.

"Yes. I mean no. Nothing happened to her," he stumbled over his words. "She wants come back."

I reeled back. "Why?"

My dad turned to me, brows creased. "This is still her home, Faye."

He said it so matter-of-factly. It made me wonder...

"Do you want her to come back?"

He ran a hand over his face, resting it on his chin. "It's complicated."

"Yes and no are pretty straightforward answers." Even as I said it, I knew how hypocritical I was being.

Peter asked me a simple question days ago and I still hadn't answered him. That was going to change today, though. I was going to tell him that we needed to start thinking about a pretend break up.

And the situation with my mom was different. It was about my well being. I didn't want to think about what she'd put me through after my dad chose me over her.

My dad sighed, holding his coffee cup between his hands. "Now that I know her behavior and I know what to look for, I can do better at keeping her from making the same mistakes."

I huffed a humorless laugh. "You think you can fix her? People don't change, Dad."

"People can surprise you if you give them the grace and patience to realize their mistakes."

I ran my finger over the design carved around the edge of the table. "Is that something the marriage therapist told you?"

My dad looked so run down. Worry lines creased his forehead. His salt-and-pepper hair was more salt than pepper. "We have to figure this out, kiddo. We can only do that if we discuss it as a family."

I felt like I already knew what would happen. My mom will fool us into thinking she's nice now and after a few weeks, she'll be shutting the power off in my room because I don't conform to her insane rules.

If that happened, maybe I could move in my grandma. Even though that meant not living next door to Peter.

Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. After today, Peter and I will go back to being small blips on each other's radars. Just like before he walked into that detention room.

I went back up stairs to shower, leaving my dad to stare into his cold, black coffee in search of answers.

When I came back down, my dad had Freckles on her leash. "We're going on a walk, want to come?"

It was a huge change from an hour ago. As much fun as it sounded to hang out with my dad while he was functional, I had to talk to Peter. I'd been putting it off for far too long.

"Not today," I told him. He nodded and he and Freckles left.

I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door as I tried to psych myself up for what I had to do.

Cherry wasn't there physically, but her voice was in my head. Deep breath in, and breathe out all the nastiness.

Done stalling the inevitable, I opened the door. The first thing I noticed when I walked out of my yard, were the cars. There were a lot more of them on our street than usual.

The second, was the music coming from the down the street. As I walked to the Conway's house, I realized they were the ones having a party.

This was actually perfect, I could end things with Peter and he'd forget all about me as he partied the night away.

There were streamers and balloons taped to the front of the house, and kids running in the yard. As I watched the chaotic Conway house become even more crazy, the jeep pulled up. They parked on the street since the driveway was full.

Chris and Aaron hopped out. Aaron had a long white cake box in his arms. Chris carried a pale of ice cream.

"Hey, Faye!" Aaron greeted as he walked over. Chris practically had to run in the house when the kids realized he had ice cream. They must not have realized what Aaron was holding. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

That confused me because Peter hadn't told me about any party. "My invite must've been lost in the mail. Who's birthday is it anyway?"

Aaron's brows pulled together. "Your boyfriend's."

I froze, eyes wide as I stared at him. "Peter's birthday is today?"

"Yeah, July second...also known as today. You didn't know?" He squinted at me and I could see his brain working. Probably close to calling us out on our lie.

As his girlfriend I should've known Peter's birthday. "I knew. I just didn't realize it was today. It was just June first yesterday."

Aaron's face softened, as he laughed. "Yeah, the month flew by. Summer's almost over."

"Yeah." I said, my shoulders sagging with relief. That was close.

I grabbed the door for him as he brought the cake inside. I didn't follow him inside immediately. The house was full of Peter's friends and family. They'd ask who I was and I'd be introduced as his girlfriend.

The plan was to create distance between Peter and I. Not to integrate myself further into his family. His random out of state cousins didn't need to know me.

I turned to leave and almost tripped over a small child. The girl looked at me, her dark hair just brushing her shoulders. "You're pretty."

"Thanks. You're...cute." Kids made me nervous. They had no sense of self preservation as they did the most wild things, like sticking small objects in their mouths and ears and noses.

"Are you here for Peter's birthday?"

"Uh, yeah. I am, but I have to--"

She grabbed my hand, and dragged me along. "He's back here. You have to say happy birthday."

The little girl had a grip tighter than a five year old should have. When we got to the back yard, there were even more kids. In the middle of them, was Peter. He ran in circles, a giggling little boy on his back.

Beyond him was a bounce house and a bubble machine. There were sno-cone and cotton candy stations as well. There was even a clown making balloon animals.

This was an unexpected birthday party for a newly seventeen-year-old.

"Peter!" The girl who still had a stronghold on me shouted. "Your pretty friend is here!"

Peter looked up, his smile bright when his eyes landed on me. I felt myself smiling back against my better judgment. He set the kid on his back down and the rest mobbed him for their turn.

"Okay, guys, I need a break." There was a roar of disappointed sighs.

Mr. Conway, a man of few words but perfect timing, came out back with a bag full of small squirt guns. "Who wants to have a water fight?" Suddenly, the mob rushed him and forgot about Peter, including the little girl who finally released my hand.

"I have so many questions."

Peter chuckled, as he stood before me. He had on the same Fall Out Boy shirt he wore all those weeks ago. The one he let me sleep in. The universe had a cruel sense of humor.

"It's the last camp day of the summer." He explained the most obvious question first. "My family wanted to do something for me on my birthday and and I wanted to do something with the kids for that last day. So we made a compromise."

This was honestly the worst. I came over here to talk about ending our fake relationship on his birthday, while he was wearing my favorite shirt of his, and he turned his birthday party into a six-year-old's dream day for his daycampers.

Whatever powers that be were making it insanely more difficult to do what I had come over for.

"What's up?" He asked, slight concern in his eyes.

I shook away my thoughts. "Nothing. Why didn't you tell me it was your birthday? I almost blew our cover with Aaron."

"We've known each other since second grade."

"Who walks around memorizing their classmates birthdays?"

"Yours is December fifteenth." He folded his arms, a smirk on his face at my shock. "Cherry's is March twenty-seventh. Should I go on?"

This boy was full of surprises. "Not everyone has your skill set."

"Fair enough."

"Why didn't you tell me anything about the party?"

He shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets. "I was giving you space. I didn't want you to feel obligated to show up." His gaze lingered on me, probably hoping I'd have an answer for him.

I couldn't bring myself to give it to him. Not today. Not while he looked so happy surrounded by his family and the kids he'd been spending his summer with.

"You should've told me," I said, shifting the conversation. "I could've gotten you a gift."

"Actually, this year, instead of gifts I've asked people to donate to the local animal shelter."

I blinked at him. "Seriously, when is the mothership coming to take you home?"

His face broke into another smile.

"Peter! Play with us!" I recognized the little boy as he ran up and handed Peter a water squirter. Cherry's little brother, Austin. Did Cherry know about this party and didn't tell me? I'd have to ask her.

"Actually, Austin--" Peter started, glancing at me.

"No, it's fine. I'll be over there." I pointed to an arts and craft table. Another daycamp volunteer helped a few kids make animal masks.

Peter joined in the water fight and I went to the table. Grabbing a sheet of blue construction paper and a black marker, I got to work on my gift to Peter.

I was terrible at remembering dates and always had to make a rushed gift. Everyone loved favors, so that was my go-to. A coupon for my services.

For my dad, it was always a pass to let him watch one of his weird sci-fi movies on our rare movie nights. For my mom, it was usually a chore of some sort--dishes, laundry, cleaning her car. For Sabrina, I promised not to borrow her clothes or shoes for a short period of time. And for Cherry, it was a free pass to ask anything from me. So I was usually dragged to a yoga class or something else that was supposed to center you.

I made Peter a free pass to ask me to do anything he wanted. So I prepared to spend the day saving turtles from choking on plastic straws or something. I added some dinosaur stickers for extra flair, then went to give it to him.

When I got up to look for him, he wasn't running around with the kids anymore. I stepped inside the house where most of the adults were chatting and laughing, but no Peter. I went down the hall, figuring he'd gone to the bathroom. Empty.

Peter's bedroom door was closed. I knocked on it.

"I'm fine, Ryan!" He called out, sounding the exact opposite of fine. It didn't sound like he wanted company, but I opened the door anyway.

"Ryan, I--" He paused when he saw me in his doorway. He sat up on his bed, tucking something under him. His smile wasn't at full strength as he looked up at me. "Faye. I was just about to come back out."

I came into the room, shutting the door behind me. "What's wrong?"

He raked his hand through his curls. "Nothing. Just needed a break from piggy back rides."

"Now I know why you don't lie," I said joining him on the bed. "You're terrible at it."

He didn't try to deny it. He nodded at the blue piece of paper in my hand. "What's that?"

"You first," I shot back.

His gaze darted to me, surprised. Then he sighed and pulled a white envelope from behind him. "I think it's a birthday card."

I tilted my head, reading the return address. Rotterdam, Netherlands. My eyes snapped up to him. "It's from your mom?"

"Yep."

No wondered he was locked in his room. I didn't know the full history with his mom, but it was clear how big a deal this was. He probably wanted to be alone.

I stood to leave. "You probably want to stare at it in peace."

He caught my hand before I got too far. I turned him. His blue-gray eyes looked up at me. "Stay?"

I lowered myself back onto his bed, sitting a little closer this time. "Does she send you card every year?" I asked before I could think better of it. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it.

"She doesn't," he admitted. "She usually calls one of my brothers and they relay the message."

Relaxing a little, I pulled my leg up on the bed, my knee lightly pressed against his thigh. "Then you should definitely read it. Maybe she won the lottery. Does the Netherlands have a lottery?"

"I have no idea," he said, laughter in his voice but not his eyes. "I think I know what it is, though."

I waited patiently for him to continue.

"That day you took me to the record store, after I saw that fight with you and your mom...I kept thinking of mine," he said, playing with the thread of rip in the knee of his jeans. "I wrote her a letter."

"Snail mail, the most reliable communication technique."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "It was the safest bet. If she didn't reply back, I could tell myself it was lost in the mail. Or I had her wrong address. I could convince myself that the reason she hadn't responded wasn't because she hated me."

"Why would your mom hate you?"

"I told you, I caused their divorce. I'm the reason she left."

"Peter..."

"It's true!" There was so much pain in his eyes when he turned to me. He centered his gaze back on the envelope in his hand. "I told my dad that she was cheating on him."

That was honestly the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth. Still, that didn't make it his fault. "If your mom was having an affair--"

"I made it up," he confessed, burying his face in his hands.

My mouth opened and closed right back up. I didn't know what to say to that except, "Why?"

He hopped up from the bed, pacing. "Because I thought...She was gone a lot for work and I wanted her home. I love my dad and my brothers, but I was always closest with my mom. So not having her there, I felt...I don't know...alone?"

His free hand was in his hair as he stopped pacing, staring at the envelope he held. "If my brothers got in trouble they had to stay home. So, I figured, if I got my mom in trouble, my dad would make her stay home. So I told him I saw her kissing some guy she worked with."

A humorless laugh escaped through his lips as he dropped down into his recliner. "Thats nine year old logic for you. But it worked. She was home by dinner. No more late nights. Then they started arguing. A couple months later they sat us down and told us they were separating. So, please, tell me again how that isn't my fault."

I stared at the broken boy across the room. My heart felt like it was being crushed in someones fist. "There has to be more to the story."

"Why do you keep defending me?"

I walked over to him, kneeling in front of him so I could meet his eyes. "You were nine. I don't think you had as much power as you think you did."

He rubbed his brow. "Faye..."

"Is this what you said to your mom in the letter?"

"Yeah. I confessed to everything."

"Then you need to open this." I held up his hand that had the envelope in it. "I'm positive it's not what you think."

He studied the envelope for a long moment before turning it over to rip open the flap. I stood to give him privacy. Once again, he reached out to bring me back. That time pulling into his lap.

I landed with a thud on his thigh, surprised by the action. But I didn't get up. He let me sleep on him when I was upset. I knew how nice it was to feel the warmth of someone when I was going through a hard time. If he needed me in this moment, he had me.

He opened the envelope, pulling out a card with tulips on it. There was a message in Dutch that I assumed read happy birthday. Tucked inside was a letter about three pages long and folded to fit inside. I took the card from him to free up his hands to read the letter.

There was a slight tremor in his hands as he opened the letter. His mom's neat block letters covered the entire page. He glanced up at me, a mix of fear and sadness on his face. I offered an encouraging nod before he began silently reading the letter.

I read it, too. The letter was rambling and kind of all over the place. Mostly about her life in the Netherlands. The food, the people, the history. I started to regret telling Peter that the truth about his parents was in this letter.

But there on the last page, underlined four times, were the words "not your fault".

Peter shifted, his attention solely on the paper in his hand.

Your father and I were drifting apart long before you said anything. I know the timing of our divorce may have skewed things, but I need you to know that it was not your fault!! We'd been  heading in that direction for years, but neither of us could admit it. It hurts me think you've spent all this time thinking you caused this. Your father and I should've been more upfront about our problems, but we also wanted to protect you boys. It's hard to tell whether a decision you make is good or bad in the moment. Now I see keeping you in the dark was one of my worst mistakes. I know this won't erase the guilt you've  carried for the last eight years, but I'm so sorry, Peter. Please forgive me.

Love Mom

As Peter folded the letter back into thirds, something his mom said stuck in my head: It's hard to tell whether a decision you make is good or bad in the moment.

There was no way for me to know if ending things with Peter would be a good decision. I wouldn't know for years and years. There was no crystal ball with all the answers. Just the here and now.

All I knew in this moment was that Peter wanted to be with me, complications and all. All I had to do was accept. But as he looked up at me, his eyes like an ocean during a storm, the fear kept the words lodged in my throat.

Instead, I asked, "Do you believe it now? That it's not your fault?"

He glanced at the letter in his hand. "I don't know. None of it changes the fact that she left."

"If she'd stayed you probably would've been well adjusted and wouldn't have spent your summer with a delinquent like me."

It was meant to be joke. I can only be serious for so long before I started to lose it. But Peter wasn't laughing as he said, "I can't even imagine what this summer would've been like without you."

His hand was on my bare thigh, slowly caressing. My heart danced in my chest. Anticipation and fear tangled together in an erratic beat as he leaned forward. His lips pressed against my cheek.

Ever the nice guy, he wasn't going to try to kiss my lips until I gave him answer.

"Thank you," he said, he whispered against my skin, sending a tingle down my spine.

There was a knock on his bed room door. "Baby bro," Chris called out. "These kids are going to riot if they don't get cake."

Peter chuckled. It was not at full force yet, but there some light back in his eyes. We stood to rejoin the party.

Everyone gathered outside. Peter stood in front of a chocolate cake that had "Happy Birthday Baby Bro" written across it in white icing. Singing Happy Birthday was the only time I'd ever heard his brothers say the name Peter. The daycamp kids helped blow out all seventeen candles.

As people cheered and clamored for a slice of cake, Peter's eyes were on me amidst the chaos. The sweetest smile on his face.

I really needed to make up my mind about him.

********

Seems like the universe just won't let Faye end things with Peter...

& we finally got the full story with Peter and his mom

Shout out to NayFromAbyss for reading and voting 💖💖

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