Page 8 of Playing Hard to Hate
GRIFFIN
PRESENT
My mother reserved every single one of my Sunday nights the day I left for college.
She did her best to bring the family together after what happened with Tatum’s parents, and Sunday night dinners were a requirement in the Silver home.
It hadn’t changed my dad’s behavior toward her, hadn’t made him a better man, but it was the one time a week we all sat down together for two hours and spoke about things going on in our lives.
Well, I did most of the talking while my mom hung on to every last word, and my dad just sighed in annoyance.
I knew he’d rather be in his office going over his notes for the next day’s court case, but over the years, I realized he did love my mother in his own twisted way, as he never missed a Sunday dinner.
I wasn’t looking forward to the verbal lashing I would get about the article that came out earlier this week, but it had been staged and made up by paparazzi, as usual. The blonde they mentioned was just one night of fun, one night to celebrate our victory.
Mom and Dad had never moved, and every time I made the hour drive home, I was reminded of the girl next door where a new family had moved in and made the place I used to love unrecognizable.
Pulling into the driveway, I parked next to my mother’s Porsche and my father’s Aston Martin, my BMW M3 fitting in perfectly with their image, even though it was a fraction of the cost. I glanced over at the house that used to be Tatum’s.
Memories of a dark-haired girl running around in the garden with Buster chasing her as she laughed so loudly rushed back.
I was sure every person in town could hear her.
And then I remembered the day the moving trucks came, how she sobbed on the steps of that house, sobbing and hugging Buster like he was her only lifeline.
We promised to stay friends even though she was moving across town.
I promised there was not another girl that I would walk home with.
I promised to visit, and I had at first. The first year nothing really changed, besides the fact I walked home alone every day from the bus stop.
I saw her every day at school. We sat together at lunch and had class together.
She would take the bus home with me on Fridays, and we would spend the afternoon with my mom, who took us to the movies and all kinds of fun things.
I hadn’t realized it as a kid, but Tatum was drowning in depression. Our mothers did their best to help her, but she had lost her father, her biggest hero, just days before her birthday.
That had been a sad birthday for Tate. She didn’t get the pink bike, so I convinced my mom to help me spray paint my bike pink.
We even bought the pink and silver streamers.
I put a pink bow on it and wheeled it over to her.
It wasn’t new, but it was exactly what she wanted, what she had spoken about for weeks.
When she saw it, her jaw fell to the ground. She wrapped her tiny arms around me and promised to love me forever while jumping up and down and begging me to show her how to ride her new bike.
Her mother cried as she watched us, and my mom sat beside her on the porch, the two of them watching us from afar as they whispered about everything going on.
I got out of my car, wishing I didn’t think about Tatum every time I came home because, at first, the memories were good. Then the more I remembered, the worse they got.
Like the first time we fought because I chose to have Hunter and Graham over on a Friday instead of her in fifth grade, or the day she stood in my driveway, tears streaming down her face after I kissed Lindy Stevens on Valentine’s Day in sixth grade.
I’d been grounded for that incident for two weeks thanks to her, and that was the day our friendship ended, all because I broke my promise.
I had let her down, just like her father.
And I regretted the way I treated her every single day.
I used my key to open the front door and threw one final look at the house next door, remembering the girl who had been there for me every time I needed someone, and I wondered where she was today, just like I did every Sunday.
The week after her mother took her own life, she’d become a ghost of the girl I had known. There was no happiness in her life anymore. She didn’t smile at school, she never laughed at Millie’s jokes, and she wasn’t fazed when I leaned against her locker anymore and tried to get her attention.
She was going through the motions. From what I’d heard from my mother, her older brother was insisting that she finish high school and had helped her move into a condo near the school.
He left after she graduated, and the day she walked across that stage was the last time I saw her.
I left the next day for a baseball camp, and now I only come back home on Sunday nights for dinner.
Mom never spoke about her or her mother.
It was like Sarah and Tatum Grace had never existed. I hated it .
Mom was laying the food on the table when I walked in the front entrance.
I could hear Dad talking to someone on the phone in the distance, as per usual.
Kicking off my sneakers, I walked into the dining room and wrapped my arms around my shrinking mother.
She was on some new fad diet called 75 Hard.
It seemed to be working for her because every week she was a little bit smaller.
“Looking good as always, Mom.”
She laughed, hugging me back even tighter. “You’re just humoring me. I weigh exactly the same as last Sunday. How are you, honey?”
“Good. Missed you at the game,” I tell her truthfully. My mom had been my biggest supporter when I was in Little League. She and Tatum used to sit on the sideline at every game, and when Tatum stopped coming, my mom slowly stopped, right around the time I joined the Atlanta Braves.
“Sorry, I had a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day and just didn’t have the energy to go out that night.”
“Doctor’s appointment? Is everything okay?”
“Just routine lab work. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
I nodded and took a seat at the table just as my father strolled in and sat at the head of the table while Mom sat to his right.
“Griffin, late as usual,” he greeted, picking up his whiskey and taking a sip.
“Traffic in the city, unfortunately.”
“Surprised you didn’t bring the blonde with you to dinner tonight.”
“She had other plans,” I snapped, hating that he was down my throat the second he saw me instead of congratulating me on yet another win.
“You being in the tabloids every other week isn’t good for my business, Griffin. ”
“Not like I can control the paparazzi, Dad.”
“No, son…but you can control the situation and stop being seen with a different girl every week.”
“Wouldn’t want to follow in your footsteps, right?”
My father slammed his hands down on the table, and my mom jumped. He had been known as a notorious playboy in his youth, and I guess seeing his son do the same just wasn’t acceptable.
“You might not live under my roof, but you will respect me and your mother when you are in this house. What I did in the past before her is none of your concern.”
Rolling my eyes, I waited for my mom to start grace, and then we dug into the food.
“Still doing Pilates?” I asked Mom, trying to make small talk while my father glared at me.
“Yes, just joined a new studio actually. That girl, Millie Sacs, who you went to school with, opened one in town.”
I didn’t know Millie was still in town.
“Do you ever hear anything about Tate?” I asked, and Mom dropped her fork to her plate. Dad looked to her and then me.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s been four years since her mom passed away, and I was just wondering what happened to Tate.”
My mom cleared her throat and looked away at the mention of Sarah Grace.
“From what I heard, she never left town, but she keeps to herself.”
“Does she have a boyfriend?”
Dad laughed at the question. “You think you can show her one night of fun, Griffin?”
“I just want to know that she’s not alone. She has no one.”
“She’s not your problem. Focus on your career because if you don’t quit this playboy act, they will not sign you again next season after your probation period, and then I guess you’ll be working for me at the law firm.”
“Even if that were to happen, there is no chance in hell I would ever work for you,” I sneered.
“That’s enough, you two. I want to enjoy the little time I have as my family is whole. If you have nothing nice to say, Charles, be quiet. Our son is home.” Mom never stood up to my dad. I had a feeling she would regret it later, but for now, there was silence, and we ate quietly.
I wondered the rest of the evening about Tatum Grace and figured the easiest way to her was through her best friend.