Page 167 of When In Doubt

“It’s fine.” I know I’m being petulant, but I don’t want to get into it.

“I’ve hardly heard from you since you took over, now you’re standing up your girlfriend?” My stomach twists with guilt.

I palm my beard, pressing my fingers into the skin until it hurts.

“Maybe I should go.” It’s only seven thirty, I could still catch them. At least she’s with Luci.

“She’s fine, she’s having dinner with her friend.”

“I should still call.”

“Everything’s alright. Besides, I gave the restaurant your card, you’re paying their bill.”

I chuckle, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve laughed in days. “I think technically that’s fraud.”

She shrugs, her expression smug. “Consider it your apology.”

“I’ll give her a real apology,” I mumble. I’ll get on my knees and grovel if that’s what it takes.

“I think she just wants you to talk to her.”

“I do talk to her.” I say like a reflex.

“Really? You tell her what’s bothering you? You tell her when you’re hurting? You’re always so busy fixing other people’s problems, you’re there for everybody. Do you let her be there for you?” She pushes. She’s always told it to me exactly like it is.

“I told her about dad,” is what I come out with.

Mom straightens, surprised. She’s seen over the years how much I’ve avoided the subject. “Really?”

I nod. “I took her to the lake.”

“Oh, Oscar,” she whispers, her hand covering her mouth.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have…” I go to change the subject, not wanting to upset her.

She reaches out gripping my fingers. “No, it’s okay. I want to talk about him, I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t.”

“I don’t want you to be sad.”

“Sweetheart,” she sighs, “memories of your dad will never make me sad. Of course, I miss him, but I love him. I don’t want us to forget him.”

“I just…” I start, my voice catching. “I didn’t think you’d want to talk about him… with me.”

“What?” She reels back. “Why?”

I squeeze my eyes shut as I choke out the words that have been haunting me for three years now. “Because it was my fault.”

She lets out a choked sound, then the only thing I hear for a long time is the faint hum of the dishwasher through the open kitchen door. I can’t look at her, can’t open my eyes to see the judgment that’s sure to be there.

“Oscar.” I hear her move and feel the dip of the couch as she sits next to me. I keep my face down, not ready for whatever she’s going to say. “Oscar, look at me.”

I shake my head.

“Look at me.”

She takes hold of my cheek and guides it toward her. I crack my eyes open until I finally meet her gaze.

“Why would you think that?” Her eyes are soft, not angry like I was expecting. I see the tears tracking down her cheeks and my heart twists.