She sets her cup down on the coffee table. “This is going to sound trite, but he really does mean well,” she says.
“It sounds a lot worse than trite, Mom.”
Her smile is tinged with sadness. “Your brother feels it's his duty to protect the family name, Duncan,” tries to explain. “I know he takes it to extremes, but –”
“You and Dad built the family name into what it is,” I interject. “You based it on generosity, kindness, and compassion. That's the reputation the Clyburne family name carries. Henry is perverting it. That he feels some people are beneath us on the social ladder and are, therefore, somehow unworthy of our attention or affection – it's repulsive to me, Mom. It goes against everything you and Dad taught us as kids.”
She sighs and gives me a small nod. “I know,” she says. “And what he did to you and Alexis is – it's terrible. But, he's your brother, Duncan.”
“That doesn't mean I can sweep everything under the rug,” I say. “Just because we're blood doesn't mean that everything he does to protect the family name is okay. Not by a long shot.”
“I'm not saying it is,” she objects. “All I'm saying is give him a chance to explain –”
“I have. Many times over,” I reply. “And it always comes back to the same things – I betrayed the family by going into medicine rather than the company business. I don't date the right kind of women, I don't do this right or that right, I'm tarnishing Dad's legacy. It's always the same with him.”
She picks up her teacup and takes another sip, seeming to be contemplating her next words. She sets the cup back down and sits back on the sofa, the sadness still clinging to her like cobwebs.
“Ever since your father died, your brother has kind of gone off the rails,” she says. “He doesn't have that North Star to guide him. He needs that.”
“He's also a thirty-nine-year-old man who should know how you do and don't treat people,” I reply.
She nods. “I don't disagree with that,” she says. “But, these kinds of incidents are how we can teach him.”
“Mom, if he doesn't get it by now, I really don't know if he ever will.”
“Don't give up on him just yet, Duncan,” she sighs. “He and I had a long talk the other day and he sort of opened up about some things – things I didn't know before.”
“We all have our issues, Mom,” I respond. “It comes down to basic human decency. That's a trait I fear Henry is lacking.”
She purses her lips and frowns. “Just – don't give up on your brother just yet, Duncan. Please. For me,” she says. “He's not a lost cause. Believe me when I say he understands his shortcomings, and he's trying to address them. He really is.”
“I'll believe it when I see it.”
She looks at me for a moment, a small smile playing across her lips. “You are so much like your father in some ways, you know. Never one to take things on faith,” she says.
“I've lived in the real world too long,” I say. “I know that when you take people on faith, ultimately, they're going to burn you.”
“Well, that's a cynical point of view,” she states. “I certainly never raised you to be such a cynic.”
I laugh softly. “No, you haven't,” I concede. “It's hard-won experience that has.”
She cocks her head and looks at me. Her eyes bore into me and I can tell she sees something going on in my head. My mom just always seems to know.
“What is it?” she asks. “What's going on, Duncan?”
I sigh and take a drink of my scotch, letting everything that's happened go through my mind again – not that it's stopped since the night Brad attacked me. I came to my mom today to ask for her advice. I've been drifting between absolute excitement about having a daughter with a woman I love and complete rage and betrayal over the fact that she's lied to me about it this whole time.
I feel completely unmoored and adrift right now. I can't make heads or tails out of what's going on in my head, and it's really fucking with me. I know that if anybody can give me some much-needed perspective, it's my mom. She always knows what to say to get my head back to where it needs to be.
“I've learned some things that are going to shock you,” I start. “They shocked the hell out of me and have really knocked me off balance the last few days.”
“I can tell,” she replies. “You seem to be in a darker, angrier place right now. Did something happen with Alexis?”
A wry chuckle bubbles up and out of my throat. “Yeah, in a manner of speaking.”
“Well, don't keep me in suspense,” she says. “You obviously need to get it out, so – get it out, Duncan.”
I chuckle and drain the last of my drink. I get up and pour myself another one, just trying to buy a little time to figure out how to tell her about Aurora. I mean, it's kind of big news, and I have no idea how to phrase it to soften the blow. As I sit back down on the sofa, fresh drink in hand, I do the only thing I really can do – I tell her the truth.
“I have a daughter, Mom,” I say.
She looks at me, her face blanching, her eyes wide, as the news settles down on her shoulders with all the subtlety of an atomic bomb. She covers her mouth with a hand for a moment, then takes it away, her eyes never leaving mine.
“A – are you certain?” she asks.
I shrug. “Honestly, I'm not certain of anything,” I tell her. “But it all makes sense. I mean, timing-wise, everything seems to line up perfectly. We were together just before I shipped out to Syria, and by the time I got back, she was just about to give birth. I mean, if I'm not the father, it would be one hell of a coincidence.”
“And this honestly never occurred to you before?
I shake my head. “I never really thought about it,” I say. “I saw she was pregnant and thought she was with Brad. I guess I just assumed…”
“My God, Duncan,” she says, her voice a breathy whisper. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yeah, that Alexis has been hiding this from me all this time.”
She waves me off, a wild grin on her face. “It means that I'm a grandmother,” she beams. “At last, I have a grandchild to spoil rotten.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Seriously? That's your takeaway from this?”
“Does anything else matter?”
“How about the fact that Alexis has been lying to me for weeks about it?”
“Has she?” she asks. “I mean, did she tell you the name of the father?”
I sit back on the couch and clench my jaw. “No, she didn't. She always evaded the question,” I explain. “But, a lie of omission is still a lie.”
She shrugs. “I suppose that's true,” she says. “But what are her reasons for not telling you? Do you know?”
I let out a long breath. “Apparently, she was afraid that I'd hire some expensive hotshot lawyers to take Aurora away from her,” I explain. “Like I would have done that.”
“How was she supposed to know, Duncan?”
“She could have asked.”
“And set herself up for the risk of you doing exactly what she feared you'd do,” she says. “When you were in Syria, she had to deal with being pregnant all on her own. She didn't know if you were coming back or not.”
“I told her I would be,” I say defensively.
“Duncan, you told me you would be as well, but I honestly didn't know you were coming home until you called and said as much,” she admits. “That's a lot of pressure and uncertainty for one person to bear all on their own.”
I run my hand through my hair. This conversation is not going as I'd expected it to go, to be honest. I mean, it sounds petty, but I kind of expected that my mom would be on my side. That she'd be as outraged about not getting the truth of things as much as I am. Instead, it sounds like she's siding with Alexis.
She laughs softly. “I'm not taking sides, Duncan,” she says.
I cock my head and look at her. “How in the hell did you know –”
“It doesn't take a mind reader to interpret what that look of frustration on your face is all about,” she explains. “Believe me, I understand why you feel the way you do. I understand your feelings of betrayal and hurt. I really do. But this is a very complicated situation. It isn't nearly as black and white as you might want to make it out to be.”
“What do you mean by that?”
My mother stands up and walks to the sideboard. She pours herself a glass of scotch and swallows half of it down right where she stands. She waits a minute, drains the glass, and pours herself another one. Only then does she return to her spot on the couch across from me. There's a light in her eyes I don't think I've ever seen before and a smile that's pulling the corners of her mouth upward. I look at her curiously, as she's not one to drink hard liquor, usually. She only keeps it around for me.
“Just a little nip to keep my thoughts straight,” she winks.
I nod and raise my glass. “To keeping our thoughts straight.”
She smiles as we both take a moment to indulge in a sip. There's a silence between us, but I can feel the energy of excitement radiating off of her like heat off the sun. Her excited energy is palpable and crackling. She really is over the moon about being a grandmother – but, she also knows that she has to help me get my head on straight about this before she can really let the excitement out.
“You sure you can give me an unbiased perspective?” I ask, chuckling low. “I mean, you are pretty damn excited about this.”
“Of course I am. I've wanted to be a grandmother for years,” she laughs. “That doesn't mean that I can't still give you good advice.”