The Last Gent

Mom

MOM

"Promise me that you will never lead women on and that you won't cheat." my mom said as I looked into her eyes-they were red and puffy as a result of my father's crimes against marriage. I was twenty-five at the time. Standing there in a strong daze-because of the molly I had ingested thirty minutes prior-and somewhat heartbroken as I looked around the room, three bottles of prescription antidepressants caught my eye. To see my mom in such a miserable state was devastating; but, on the other hand, how am I supposed to hate my father? Especially after years of trying to win his affection. We were on good grounds; there was a common understanding between us, a mutual respect established, due to my absence from the home while I was working on the cruise ship. After having the courage to chase the God-given opportunity to establish myself as a man being away from my sisters, facing ship-life, and its challenges for five months allowed me to grow as a man, to take those final steps out of adolescence. The day my vacation started, not even an hour after I left the ship, my father gave me the devastating news that we were no longer a family.
"Your mom and I are separated." he said in a calm, yet strangely carefree voice. I felt robbed of my peace of mind to the point that my twelve-hour flight from Hawaii to Virginia was a sleepless one. While on vacation, it was like the twilight zone; everyone around me seemed to be already over the situation because of the time that they'd had to deal with it. I felt like everything I did was an unfortunate reminder of what happened. I had so many questions, but when given the answer, I felt betrayed-like I couldn't trust anyone.

As a way to avoid being in the house, I spent most of my days with friends and nights at strip clubs seeking affection from anywhere but home. I remember one particular night, my friends and I split two grams of molly; this is not meant to glorify the drug by any means, but it was certainly enough to get us feeling extraordinary-however stupid we may have looked. When we arrived at the club, I could barely walk because 'the roll', as we call it, was intense. All of the dancers were staring at us - probably wondering what the fuck we were on. It was not only embarrassing, but uncomfortable; so we left. Realizing that clubs were not an option, we spent two hours driving around until 'D', the most irrational of all of us, decided to explore an escort website: Backpage. I immediately pulled over and went online - under a great deal of stimulation, mind you. The ad was more intriguing than I expected.
Finally, we selected an escort that was closest to us and drove across town to meet her. Driving through the neighborhood, we were somewhat skeptical; however, we ignored our instincts as we pulled up to the driveway. We decided the plan was to go in one at a time; that way, if it was a setup, we could we react accordingly. I opted to be the brave, yet thirsty, person to go first. As I walked up the steps, I looked around and noticed garbage all over the grass. Immediately, I realized who I was about to meet. As I knocked on the door, my heart was beating faster than an overdosed crackhead. After three knocks, she finally answered.
"Hey baby... wassup."
"Are you Amber?" I asked immediately.
"Yes baby," she replied. While not trying to be rude, I immediately walked away, realizing that we were the victims of false advertising. With a look of embarrassment and disappointment on my face, I dropped the team off and ended my night with a series of masturbation via XNXX.com.
Unable to sleep because of the amount of influencers in my system, I decided to do some thinking-trying to figure out how to balance my time for the next five weeks. I felt terrible, as if there was nothing I could do to feel better-and the come down from the molly didn't help the situation either. Realizing that I couldn't sleep on my own, I thought taking some sleeping pills and one more masturbation session might drain the energy I had left.
Mission accomplished-I rolled over and fell into a deep sleep. The next day, after realizing that I slept the majority of it away, I took a shower and went into my mom's room. I entered, but avoided eye contact-sitting on the chair in front of TV and plotting how to initiate a conversation without either of us being emotional. The last thing I wanted to do was to work my mom up, especially knowing that she needed antidepressants to just be calm. I began to open my mouth, but was stopped by her words.
"Corey, do you think I'm ugly?" I felt my heart drop because I knew right where the conversation was about to go.
"No mom. Why do you feel that way?" I answered immediately, in my naiveté. As I walked closer to the bed, I felt like the image of my mom was unreal. My once vibrant and compassionate parent now looked drained and cold.
"Sit down, son. Let me tell you about your father, but first close the door. I don't want your sisters to hear what I'm about to tell you." She instructed. I walked toward door, contemplating whether or not I should run out and not come back. But, that is not what men do, so-with a heavy heart-I closed the door and walked back to reality.
"Son, your father is a liar." she said in a wheezy voice. "We both had a sit down and the plan was to tell you together, but he broke that promise to win you over."
"He tried to protect me because he knew that if I came home thinking all was good, it would have hit harder." I responded, in my innocence of the situation. With a look of disbelief and disappointment, she confirmed the dark feeling in my heart-a feeling that I didn't want to believe.
"Son, the only reason your father made extra effort to connect with you while you were on the ship was because he wanted to win you over, so that when you found out, your loyalty would be with him."
After five seconds of silence, being the irrational person I am, I shouted, "My father loves me! He would not do that. I am his only son!" My mom stood up and walked closer to me.
"This has been going on since Trinidad. I always suspected, but never caught him in the act until now." She told me. I felt like the image of my father had been destroyed. Our relationship had always been on thin ice, but there were good times as well. Honestly, there were a couple of signs I noticed-his whole demeanor changed. My father, in my eyes-or what I knew of him-was always a very disciplined man with a set routine. He would literally go to work and come home, run for hours, and then watch TV. So, I noticed right away when his mannerisms changed-like coming home late (especially when he worked early in the morning), dressing nice, and wearing certain colognes just to 'hangout with friends.'
I even remember one time when I was drunk with one of my close friends-a good kid who always had problems with his own family-I blurted out, "I think my dad might be having an affair." But, I quickly brushed it off because I had this perfect image of our family in my mind.
Looking at my mom, I could see in her face that she was pressed to tell me something, so hesitantly I asked, "How did you catch him in the act?" She took a deep breath and laid back on her pillow.
"One morning when he was going to work, I followed him." She began. With my heart pounding and dreading what she might say, I asked her to continue. "I followed him until he pulled into the garage of a house. I passed by and parked." She explained how she watched, heartbroken, as my dad got out of the car and started talking to a woman. She immediately pulled the car up beside them, seeking the truth. This conversation was intriguing, but draining. "Son, when I pulled up... he was outside of the woman's car. She was in the driver's seat; they both saw me."
"Yes... what happened?" I pressed, frustrated. My mom licked her lips.
"I got aggressive with her! Let her know that we have been married for twenty-five years and that he is the father of four and how dare her interfere with that!" I couldn't believe my mom followed my father; in my eyes, she had always been very submissive and supportive of him. "Corey, not once during my exchange of words did your father come to my car, or ever say anything! That showed me where his loyalty was."
Shocked after what my mom just told me, all I could respond with was, "What happened next?"
"Don't be naïve! I put everything he owned outside!" she yelled in a flash of anger, thanks to one of her legendary mood swings. She said that, when he got home, it was raining and she was waiting for an explanation-or at least some sort of remorse-but like a fool, he only reacted with, "Joanne, it's raining outside. If my stuff gets damaged, I don't know what I would do." She told me that she immediately picked up a vase and attempted to hit him with it, but she missed and it broke, piercing her hand and spilling blood everywhere - like a WWE Extreme match back in the 90's. She made sure I knew that it was a big scene and a very traumatic event for my sisters.
"Corey, God knew what he was doing because if you were home for this, you would have killed your father, and I'd rather lose him than you. I love you, son." After my mom opened up like that, I was in vulnerable mode. I hugged her and left the house heated with anger, like a satellite trying to direct my feelings elsewhere.
The days were going by faster than Usain Bolt in the Olympics-almost unfair for all the time that I worked on the ship. Talking to my sisters, they seemed to be over the whole 'no Dad at home' situation, but they did admit that they haven't seen him in two months. My youngest sister even let me know that he was supposed to take her to Jumpology, but couldn't even commit to that.
With my bank account looking amazing thanks to my slavery on the ship, I decided to call my father and arrange that we all go together. I was determined not to have him destroy his own image in my ten-year old sister's eyes. I remember, vividly, being anxious about whether or not it would be awkward with my sister and Dad, as both often felt completely different about any given situation. Suddenly, pulled from my trail of thought, my phone rang. "I'm outside." he said as I walked toward the van. I remember telling my sister to be cool.
The night was surprisingly enjoyable. It wasn't awkward, but I had to have a 'sit-down' with my Dad to find out what happened on his end. I initiated the conversation by saying, "Why Dad? Why destroy your image to everybody around you?"
"Corey, there are some things that you won't understand. Your mom and I grew apart." his response was calm. Feeling uncomfortable, I glanced up and could see my sister spying on me to see if I was keeping my cool. My dad continued, "Although Mom and I are separated, I am not separated from my children." Those words gave me a sense of comfort. We left and ended the night on a high note.
My summer vacation was going by. My father did make slight effort to chill with me, but in between trying to chill with my mom and sisters, sleeping all day, and coming down on the molly, I had little-to-no time for him - especially after the damage he inflicted.
Finally, the last day of summer was here. I felt both guilty and a sense of relief-guilty because I didn't want to leave my family incomplete, but relief because I didn't want to be surrounded by the pain. I ended the day by going to Walmart and spending time with my sisters; on my way back home, my mom asked, "Do you want to see where she lives?" I said that I did, but first she made me promise that I wouldn't go and make a scene. I agreed. To my surprise, it wasn't too far from the escort's place. As we passed by, we were both shocked to see that my father's car was parked there. I felt hurt and betrayed, especially because it was my last day home and he made no effort to see me. His words echoed in my head, "Although Mom and I are separated, I am not separated from my children." My mom and I drove home in silence. I hugged her, let her know that I love her, and began a movie marathon so that I could be tired enough to sleep through my twelve-hour flight back.
At last, the day was here! It was sentimental, but heartwarming to be leaving. After a long exchange of farewells from my sisters, I drove off with my mom. The drive to the airport was a quiet one. When we got there, we walked to the terminal and she let me know that she was proud of the man I have become. It brought tears to my eyes because she ignored my imperfections. I hugged and kissed her, and as I was about to leave-walking towards the security checkpoint-I felt like this moment signified that I was becoming a moral man, separated from mother's guidance, but also determined to prove that I could be more of a man...better than my Dad.