“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“Clearly. School, I hope?” Mum asked.
I nodded, lying. “Pretty much. The semester’s about to begin, so I don’t have studies on my mind per se, but classes nonetheless.”
“You sure do like adding extra words when you don’t need them,” my mother said, rolling her eyes.
I smiled, knowing it was a joke between us. I liked to sound my most pompous in front of my dad, mostly because he was far more snobbish than I could ever be. My parents had met when they were far too young, and my mother had gotten pregnant with dear old me. I hadn’t had any say in the matter, of course, but I had ended up being born outside of London, where we had lived for most of my life. My parents had moved me across the pond ten years ago to finish university in America—where my mother was from—and I hadn’t really understood it at the time. I still didn’t, but we were closer to her family, and I didn’t mind having a connection to both sides of my world. I just didn’t know where I would go after school. Would I go back to the UK, where my father’s family was? Where my parents still spent half their time? Or would I stay here near my mother’s family, finding my place in a country where my accent wasn’t too familiar, and people thought I was interesting? I tended to blend in back in my home country, at least that’s what I told myself. My mother said that could never happen, but that was mothers for you. They always thought the best of their children.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go back to my first home where the walls still spoke, and everything seemed so dreary. Not because of the weather or the people, but from the memories that never seemed to fade away.
Wow. I was far too melancholic for my own good today.
“I don’t understand why we’re here. You can never get a decent cuppa in Denver,” my father grumbled, looking down at his teacup. His lips twitched in a smile as he said it, the refrain familiar.
I had added a splash of milk to mine, just to see what my father would do. I liked tea any way I could get it, but if anybody touched my cup and put it near a microwave, I would never forgive them. There were electric tea kettles for a reason. If you couldn’t use a teapot on a stove, find a tea kettle.
That was one thing I never understood about Americans.
“Anyway, darling,” my mother said, smiling. She had kept her American accent, and since she was in Colorado, she always said that she had no accent as that was the epitome of being a Coloradan. I hadn’t understood until I moved here and spoke to the locals. But every once in a while, she added a bit of a twist at the end of her vowels and consonants and sounded more like my father’s sister, with a touch of an accent. I loved her so freaking much. I just wished that I got to see her more often.
“Your mother and I asked you to dinner while we were in town to talk to you.” I looked at my dad and then at my mom, frowning. We usually went out to tea when they were in town since they spent most of their time at the London house these days, but something about my dad’s tone worried me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your father and I…” my mother began and then cleared her throat.
She gave my father a pointed look, and he sighed.
“Your mother and I have decided to get a divorce. We feel it’s the best thing for both of us, and we wanted to let you know in person rather than have you hear about it from someone else.”
I blinked and looked between them, confused. “What?”
“No need to raise your voice, son,” my father said before he lowered his. “We probably should’ve done this at home, but we always go out to tea when we’re in town, and we didn’t want you to worry.”
I looked between them and swallowed hard before looking down at my teacup. My chest constricted, and I tried to keep up. My parents seemed the epitome of happiness. They were the reason I knew that marriage could work, even though most of my friends had parents who were divorced. It didn’t make any sense. “You’re saying this, just like that? After how many years of marriage? You’re just ending it?”
“Your father and I had twenty years,” Mum said. “It’s time for us to move on in our journeys.” There was something she wasn’t saying. I saw it in her eyes, but she didn’t want me to make a scene. God forbid we made a fucking scene. My parents were getting a divorce. It wasn’t like I even lived with them. I had my own life, a home. But what the hell?
“I didn’t even know you guys were fighting.”
My mother smiled softly, but it still didn’t reach her eyes. What had I missed? After all these years, what wasn’t I seeing?
My father let out a breath. “There are some things you don’t let your children see, Pacey.”
“We want you to know that we love you. We always have, and we always will. No matter what happens between your father and me, you will always be our number one priority. You may be an adult, but you are still our son.” She looked over at my dad. “Right, Edward?”
“Yes, Penelope. Pacey is our number one. And whatever you decide, Pacey—at least for yourself in the future—know we’ll both be with you. We just won’t be together.”
They kept talking, and I blinked, wondering how the hell this had happened. They had been through so much. They had been young when they got married and had dealt with clashing cultures and families that hadn’t understood their love. They had weathered my countless hospitalizations—and still did, for that matter. Yet they had stayed together. They had only grown stronger. What the hell had I missed when I moved out?
But I knew this wasn’t the time or place to question it further. Instead, my father raised his fingers in a slight gesture, and the waiter came with our check. It didn’t matter that we were at one of the most coveted and elite places for afternoon tea in Denver. I just wanted to scream and try to figure this out. But I wasn’t going to get that. Because I wasn’t allowed to question. That wasn’t what sons did. They listened to their parents and they nodded. They did as they were told. They did not scream or fight or wonder why the hell their parents were getting a divorce after so many years. Why the hell hadn’t I known anything?
“I can see that you’re confused, and we’ll talk about it soon. But right now, we must go. I know you have school starting tomorrow morning. We don’t want to keep you.”
“Mum,” I whispered.
“Another time, Pacey.” My mother squeezed my hand, and then we got up from the table and walked towards the front of the building where the valet was.
“I’m headed to my hotel,” my father said, and I blinked.
“You’re not staying with Aunt Tracy?” I asked.
My mother blushed. “I am, Pacey. Your father will be staying at a hotel. But we’re here for you. I promise.” She kissed my cheek and then walked away, my father nodding after he squeezed my shoulder. They left me alone, standing there wondering how on earth this had happened. And what was I supposed to do about it?
I drove home, rubbing my temple as I did. I could feel a migraine coming on, but I hoped it was only a stress headache. I needed to drink more water, and since I was usually on a schedule when it came to hydrating, I was annoyed with myself for not doing better. I was just a little off. Had been since losing Corinne. I winced as I turned off the highway near the campus. I didn’t want to think about her. She had been a nice girl and was taken from us much too soon. How could a brain aneurysm steal a girl so full of life? And so quickly? We hadn’t even had a proper chance to say goodbye. She was suddenly gone, leaving us all wondering what the hell had happened.