Page 5 of Playing Hard to Hate
TATUM
FOUR YEARS AGO
Millie and I walked through the front door, water dripping off us onto the tiled floor, laughter spilling from our lips as we dropped our wet bags to the ground and kicked off our shoes.
“Mom?” I called from the entry of the house. A rustle from the living room confirmed my suspicions that she hadn’t left the couch since I left her this morning.
“In here, Tate.” Her soft, broken voice filled the silence. Millie looked at me. Every ounce of happiness drained from her expression.
I steeled myself and took a deep breath. I had done my best to keep my emotions at bay today, except for that one moment of weakness with Griffin this morning, but seeing my mom like this, so broken, a complete and utter shell of the woman I had grown up with, was unbearable.
Every year, it got a little worse. On the anniversary of the first year he left, Griffin’s mom came over.
She looked out of place in our new home, her car far too exotic for the broken driveway with overgrown weeds.
I remember being so excited to show Griffin my new house.
It was tiny, so much smaller than before, but my mom, my older brother, Dustin, and I had done our best to make it a home.
One where we were happy and my father wasn’t mentioned.
Griffin had jumped out of his mom’s luxurious SUV and run up the cracked driveway, his brand-new sneakers slapping against the ground as he barreled toward me.
He wrapped me in the biggest hug a nine-year-old could give and spun me around.
Mom had laughed for the first time in a week when she saw that, and Dustin had snorted, making some comment about how I was going to get hurt.
Dustin never really liked Griffin, or me, now that I thought about it, and that’s probably why he left when he was given the choice.
He chose Dad and his new family, while I chose Mom, the only person who had never left us or let us down.
Dustin swore that Dad didn’t mean to leave him or me behind, but if that was the case, then he would have called or come to visit, but he never did.
Dustin choosing my father was something else that shattered Mom to absolute smithereens. She was never the same after he packed his bags, kissed her on the head, and left like it was his duty to protect my father’s image.
Millie nudged my shoulder, shaking me from the memories that haunted me the most. She nodded her head toward the living room, where I could hear my mother softly calling my name.
“Tate, baby, come here.”
“Millie and I just got soaked in the rain. We’re gonna change really quick and then come watch a movie with you,” I hollered before I grabbed Millie’s hand and dragged her into my bedroom down the hall and slammed the door, buying myself a few more minutes.
“What the hell was that about? Are you worried I’m gonna freak out seeing her like this? I’ve seen her like this three times already, Tate,” she deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest, green eyes slitting like a snake about to attack. And I was her prey of choice.
“Millie, shut up. You know it’s not that,” I grumbled, pulling my wet jeans down my hips and throwing them to a corner of the room. “Did you bring extra clothes?” I asked over my shoulder as I rifled through my closet, looking for my favorite pair of gray sweatpants.
“Yeah, and they got soaked, so I’ll take the usual.
” I handed her the black shorts that she loved to borrow and the gray hoodie she had claimed as her own, even though it was my brother’s, who she also supposedly hated, but I wasn’t too sure.
Not after the last time he came to visit Mom, and I caught the two of them having a very heated debate in the kitchen.
“I’m not strong enough to hold her together every single time.
He didn’t just leave her, Millie. He left me too.
He had a new daughter with that other woman.
She wasn’t the only one replaced, and it’s so draining to pretend like I’m okay when I’m not.
” I sniffled, admitting the truth for the first time to my best friend.
“I get what you’re saying. I do. But she was cheated on for years, Tate.
Her husband, who vowed to spend the rest of his life with her, had an affair for years.
Then he just packs up all his shit and leaves her behind with her twelve-year-old son and eight-year-old daughter, a fucking huge mortgage, and all the other bills, all so he can live the life he thinks he deserves.
Put yourself in her shoes. She had to sell her home, her car, her own personal things to just keep a roof over your head, Tate. ”
I fucking hated when she’s right . Absolutely fucking hated, which was, unfortunately, ninety-five percent of the time. So my pride took a beating on a regular basis.
“Go to hell,” I grumbled, finally finding my favorite pants and sliding them up my cold legs .
“Be a good daughter.” She snorted, opened my bedroom door, and strutted out like it was her home. “Ms. Grace, you hungry?” Millie asked, her voice bouncing off the few walls in the home.
I didn’t hear my mother’s response. The buzz of my phone from my discarded jeans had grabbed my attention. Pulling the phone from the wet pocket, I held it up in front of me, surprised at the message and the sender.
Fin
I’m sorry. You deserved a better father.
Tate
We both did.
Putting the phone down on my vanity, I exited the room, closing the door behind me and pushing all thoughts of Griffin Silver from my mind. My mother needed me. Millie was right.
We watched Forrest Gump for the fourth year in a row. It was a tradition Millie had started. She made the popcorn, I made ice cream sundaes, and my mom, whether she had the desire to eat or not, humored us and ate some while watching the dreadful movie with us.
Millie, without fault, fell asleep halfway through the movie, and Mom sipped her wine like it was her lifeline until the credits rolled on the screen.
“Can I get you some water, Mom?” I asked, cleaning up the dishes, wishing I could take her pain away.
“I’m okay, honey. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. You’re eighteen now, going to college soon. I don’t want to be a burden to you any longer. You or Millie.” She looked over at my sleeping best friend, who was snoring away.
“You aren’t a burden,” I whispered, hating to think that’s what had been on my mom’s mind all this time. “You’re my mom. You’re my world.” I dropped to my knees at her feet and draped myself over her legs. “Please don’t say things like that. It scares me. I can’t live without you.”
“Honey, one day you will have to. I won’t be here forever, but you’ll have Millie, Dustin, and Griffin.”
“Dustin and Griffin left Mom. Men always leave,” I gritted out, hurt by her careless comment.
“Dustin never left you, sweetheart. He left me, but you’ll always be his little sister, and he will always love you and protect you, even when I’m long gone.
As for Griffin, he will be back. That boy was absolutely in love with you, probably still is, but is too afraid to tell you.
He should know that your bark is worse than your bite. ”
“You’ve had too much to drink. You sound crazy. Please, you have to stop drinking. Let me make you a coffee.”
“You’re the one living in delusion. You push everyone away, and it’s time you stopped doing that, Tatum. You shouldn’t ignore your father’s calls.”
“He left us!” I screamed, waking Millie, who looked around wildly. “Then Dustin left us! And then Griffin left me!” The tears and emotions that I had tried so damn hard to keep buried deep in my chest erupted.
“You ignored his calls and visits, Tatum. You would scream at Dustin whenever he mentioned your father’s name or anything about him. And you pushed that boy away by feeling permanently sorry for yourself.” My jaw hung at my mother’s accusations .
“You’re drunk. You’re fucking drunk,” I said, standing up and stumbling away from her.
“You just can’t handle the truth.”
“What truth? That my dad left me because he couldn’t stand you?”
Millie gasped as the words echoed in the room. Silence hung around us. Hurt washed over every feature of my mother’s face. Her brows scrunched, her lips quivered, her nose twitched, and her eyes glossed over.
“And so the truth comes out ten years later,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. She stood up, taking her glass of wine, and brushed past me without a word.
I sank to my knees, cradling my chest as loud sobs escaped me, screams of pain tearing from my lips as I struggled to breathe.
“Oh, Tate.” Millie wrapped herself around me.
I don’t remember going to bed. I don’t remember getting up from the floor of the living room and crawling into bed, or even falling asleep last night, but as I blinked slowly and took in the light room, I immediately knew something was wrong.
“Millie,” I grumbled, shaking my best friend awake, who groaned in annoyance.
“Shut up, Tate. Leave me alone.”
“We’re late for school.” I panicked immediately. Both of us shot from the bed and ran about the room, throwing clothes on, brushing teeth, and shoving our things into our backpacks.
“The bus, Tate!” Millie shrieked in horror .
“My mom can drive us.” My mom. Pain sliced through me as I remembered last night and the hurtful things I had said.
“Go wake her up!” Millie pushed me out of the room and ran toward the kitchen.
Running into my mom’s room, I didn’t think to knock. I just threw the door open, saw her sleeping figure under the covers, and bolted across the small space. “Mom, we’re late! Oh, we overslept! Mom, you have to drive us,” I said, quickly shaking her.
She didn’t budge, which was unusual, even after a night of drinking.
Not even a groan telling me to fuck off.
So I shook her again, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light in her room from the blackout curtains when I picked up on something being off.
Her body was ice cold beneath my touch. It wasn’t winter, her fan wasn’t on, and she was heavily bundled up in her blankets.
“Mom! Wake up! We are so late!” I screamed again. “Please wake up!”
I pulled the covers back and saw her curled up on her side.
Yanking her toward me, her head slumped to the side like a ragdoll.
A chill skated down my spine, raising the hairs on my arms. Something was wrong.
I scanned her face and latched onto her green eyes, the ones we both shared.
They stared back at me, completely void of life.
“Mom!”