It had been ten years since my mother's death and I was leaving for college the next day. I figured I might as well ask my dad what had happened that night. I wanted to know. I wanted to understand. I wanted to somehow reach the parts of me that had been locked off my whole life. I didn't like being the cold, uncaring guy. I wasn't that guy. I had so many feelings inside, but I didn't know how to express them or get them out. I didn't know how to be open. And the older I got the more uncomfortable I was about love and relationships and getting too close. I'd dated some girls that had balled their eyes out when we'd broken up. They'd cried and told me they hated me and loved me and wanted to die and it scared me. I didn't want to make anyone feel like they weren't enough just because they weren't what I wanted. I mean, if I was honest with myself I didn't want to get emotionally involved, period. That was not who I was or who I would ever be. I'd never been in love. Never even thought I was close, and was glad for it. I didn't want that power over anyone and I didn't want anyone to have any power over me.
"Dude, what are you doing?" Cody hit me in the shoulder. "Let's go."
"Hold on, I need to ask my dad something first."
"Hurry up. The guys are waiting." Cody frowned and looked at his watch. I knew he didn't care about the waiting guys as much as he cared that Lisa, the head cheerleader, was into him and also waiting at the bowling alley for us.
“Dude, chill. I’ll be back to talk in a few minutes,” I said and left him in my bedroom and headed towards my dad’s study. I knocked on the door and waited for him to let me come in.
“Dad,” I said as I opened the door and walked in. He was sitting at his table, drinking a glass of what I supposed was whiskey or gin and staring at a contract.
“What’s going on, TJ?” He looked up at me and then back down at the contract.
“Can we talk?” I asked him as I walked over to the desk.
“I’m going over a contract.” He frowned. “Can we talk later?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to talk now.”
“I’m really quite busy.” He took a sip of the warm brown liquid in his crystal glass.
“This won’t take long,” I said and placed my fists on the table in front of him and leaned into his face. “I want to talk now.”
“What do you want to talk about?” He put his glass back on the table and then gazed at me, his face void of expression.
“I want to know about the day Mom died,” I said and waited for him to react, though he didn’t even blink.
“Okay.” He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”
“What happened that day? Why was she so upset? Why did she take those pills?”
“Your mother had issues. Suffered from depression. Who knows why she did what she did.”
“That’s not a good answer, Dad.” My eyes narrowed and I looked at him coldly. “Why did she hate you? Why was she crying? Why didn’t you seem to care when she died?”
“I loved your mother, TJ.” He leaned back and picked up his glass again slowly and took a long sip. “She had her issues. I got tired of having to deal with them. I referred her to shrinks. She was on medication. I did everything I could do, but she didn’t get better. That’s not my fault.”
“What issues did she have?” I banged the table. “Give me something, goddammit. I need something concrete.”
“Your mother was mentally imbalanced.” He shrugged again. “Maybe she just had a few screws loose. You should be glad you don’t have that same issue.”
“Don’t say that.” I stood tall. “You’re an uncaring, unfeeling asshole. You drove her to that, didn’t you?”
“Drove her to what?” My father sighed and leaned forward again. “Why are you so emotional, TJ? That’s a trait you get from her. You can’t let emotions screw with your head in business. Emotions make everything grey. You need to deal with the black and white. You don’t think your mother’s death hurt me? You don’t think I wondered every single day what I could have done to make it so she didn’t kill herself? You don’t think I would have done anything I could have to have stopped it? But she wasn’t rational. She was always in her head. Overthinking things. Overthinking life. Overthinking everything I said and did. Every little thing I said. Everywhere I went. She had issues. She wanted to know where I was at all times. Who I was talking to. She was jealous. She was emotional. She loved me too much. She loved with her head in the clouds. All she thought about was love and me. I was her life. It was too much. I had a business to run. I couldn’t be her life. I couldn’t be her reason for being. She lived for me. I lived to make money. It wasn’t a good match. I didn’t realize that at first. Not until it was too late. I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t deal with her. I had other women, yes, and that killed her.”