How Could You?

5

Wilson

I should be surprised, but the only feeling sinking in was that I deserved this. I completely deserve this and worse.
My mother looked at me in disdain and my Father's eyes were on his wife, his lips pressed in a thin line in a disappointed way. He doesn't even want to look at me.

My parents who once looked at me with adoration and pride, were now just giving me disgusted stares. I was always a proud man to have such parents and the fact that I was an excellent son to them.

Never sneaked around, never went to parties or fooled around with girls. Never lost my focus and learnt to be a loving gentleman my woman would like. And for what? To throw it all away, for a moment of pleasure that wasn't even pleasurable.

I swallowed the thorns of guilt and tried to find my voice.

"Mom," I stepped closer but she buckled up to my Father and cried in his arms.

"Don't come near me, you can't be my son. You can't," she cries helplessly.

"Denver, my son would never do that right. He would never," she sobs hysterically as my dad consoles her by hugging her tight. Every whimper of hers squeezed my heart and smashed it to pieces, I could only imagine the pain I'd thundered down on my wife.

I wonder how she is doing and Wilona, did she tell our daughter what had I done? Would she hate her Father now?

When my mother started coughing unstoppable I ran to the kitchen and brought a water bottle and a glass. My dad snatched it from my hand and helped her drink it.

"Calm down Rosea, you have to sit down and talk like adults," my father said rubbing her back. She wiped her tears, nodding her head. He didn't say we, meaning he wouldn't talk to me, my Father was a man of few words we are close of course but he always chooses his words wisely.

We sat down and had a lingering silence coating the atmosphere. I could feel the disappointment radiating off them. You're not the only ones Dad and Mom.

"I don't even know what to say, Wilson." My mother sniffled then hung her head, wiping her face and eyes. "I can't seem to find the right words." She lets out, her lips quivering.

The sight of her tears and shame was killing me, to imagine I brought this sorrow upon my parents whom I love so much is torture. I was unable to maintain eye contact as I glanced down, the humiliation I'd brought upon myself was too heavy.

I was constantly having the remorse scratching my heart, it was stinging, and burning and I had no one to blame but myself.

"Nothing I say is ever going to be enough Mom. All I know is that I've messed up terribly, that too for," I exclaimed tears blurring my eyes.

"For a moment," I couldn't complete the sentence. It was too humiliating to talk about it to my parents.

"I was so proud raising a son like you," it was my Father who spoke this time. He didn't look at me his eyes staring into a distance, on the photos on our wall, I trembled at his words.

"I have no idea if I can look at you with the same pride ever again," he hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue, he said them with so much difficulty and conclusion. At that moment I realised I just didn't lose my wife and daughter, my chance at an amazing life. But also the respect of my friends and family. My people.

People who were there for me all my life, who looked up to me with respect and pride. Who am I fooling? I would never be able to look in the mirror and feel the same way about myself ever again. This disgust that I've brought upon my life was going to be there, always like rotten garbage.

"You've lost your family Wilson, what're you going to do?" My mother whispered, that snapped me out of self-pity.

"I haven't lost them, I would not. I know what I did is wrong but I'll make sure Leona comes back to me." I fretted in denial.

I wouldn't let her go.

My mother looked at me with wide pitiful eyes at my outburst, I looked away. "Will, is Leona divorcing you?" Did she tell you she would?" She asks frantically, I avoid looking at her. It's just a reaction to my actions, she wouldn't divorce me. She loves me, we have a daughter.

"Wilson, I am asking something to you," she yells shaking me.

"She didn't tell me any such thing," she mumbles, eyes filled with sorrow.

"Did you talk to her mom, did you talk to Leona?" I moved closer clutching her hands, she slid them out of my hold hastily.

"You don't deserve to know about her," she snaps, her gaze changing to fury. I visibly flinched because my mother wasn't a person who gets angry easily. She was our sweet Angel we ran to when Dad got mad.

"I can't let her go, Mom, I believe we can work it out," I muttered meekly, contemplating my own words. She looked at me like I was speaking an ancient language like I was delusional.

"Work out? Wilson. You goddamn cheated on that her do you think that's just a small mistake you could say sorry for and move on?" She fumes, standing up and pacing around she starts looking up at the ceiling wiping the tears that wouldn't stop. Every action of hers was digging a hole of hollow deeper into my chest.

"I know," I uttered.

"Not once did the thought of your daughter cloud your mind, Wilson?" She asks, her voice a mixture of vulnerability and disgust. I dipped my head down, I had no answer to that, or maybe my mother or any sane person would have burned ears after hearing such a wounding truth.

"How did you guys- I trailed off feeling the words alone burning my vocals.

"How do we know?" She completed it for me. I couldn't even nod. "Your sister told us." She says.

Just then on cue the front door open twice today and my sister walked inside, her eyes like everybody else filled with disgust and rage. I was speechless for the moment being.

"She doesn't want to see you, that's why I had to come here Wilson," saying, Andrea gestured to the stranger male beside her who extended an envelope towards me.

"Wilson McConnell you've been served."

___________________________________

I feel like I've written this chapter in a frenzy at the same time I think I would write the same thing any other day too.

Do leave comments if you want more updates sooner.