Tainted

Tainted {{Chapter Four}}

                                                 * * * Brendon’s P.O.V. * * *

            A week after I’d told Jordan I was going to go see my mom, I decided that I actually should pay her a visit. I called in advance so she knew that I was coming, and I took out my piercings and covered most of my tattoos because I knew that she didn’t care too much for them. I pulled up in front of my parents’, now my mom’s, house after an hour drive and knocked lightly on the front door.

            She smiled when she opened the door. “Brendon.”

            “Hi, Ma.” I gave her a hug and let myself in. “You look tired.”

             She touched her fingers to the bags underneath her eyes. “I guess I am. But it’s been tiring.”

            “I know,” I replied. “I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay.” We sat down next to each other on the couch, her knee resting against mine. “I’m just surprised that you aren’t more upset, regarding the divorce."

            I scowled. “Dad’s a dick.”

            “Hey, language.”

            I grinned sheepishly. Even though I was actually a twenty-one-year-old man, I was a still a little boy in my mother’s eyes. “Sorry. He’s a jerk.”

            “Yes,” she agreed with a sigh. “But he is still your father.”

            “I wish he wasn’t.”

            She frowned. “Brendon, let’s be serious here.”

            “I am being serious.”

            “Brendon.”

            “Ma.”

            She smiled and rested her hand on my thigh. “Your old mom is exhausted of arguing. Come on, we can make some food.”

            We worked together in the kitchen to make grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I stood next to my mother at the stove, towering over her. She was about five-three, while I stood nine inches above her at six-feet even. I’d inherited my tallness from my father, but that was the only physical feature that I’d inherited from him. My brown hair and eyes were both from my mom.

            I was similar to my mom in many different aspects, but I resembled my father in the worst ways possible. My bad temper, for example, was him. I also gave in to temptation too easily, more obviously my father. I was a wreck, on the emotional side of things. That was my dad in a nutshell.

            One thing I would never, ever do was cheat. That was one trait that I could proudly admit I did not obtain. What possessed my father to do such a thing, I wasn’t quite sure. I’d never thought that he and Ma had a bad marriage. They always seemed to get along, and Ma was good to him. My mom was beautiful, I could easily admit that, but I guess Dad had a different definition of the word in the shape of a twenty-five-year-old woman. She was closer to my age than my father’s, for Christ’s sake.

            We finished cooking our food and sat down to eat. I had just lifted my sandwich to my mouth when I heard the front door suddenly bang open. Confused, I turned to Ma, who had a wary look on her face. I roughly stood up just as my father entered the kitchen, a busty woman attached to his arm.