“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. People are who they are for reasons we’ll never understand sometimes. They never understood my fascination with art. It got so bad one time that anything considered an artistic craft was treated as contraband in the house.”
“What?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said, snickering. “One time I was caught with a watercolor set underneath my bed, and I was grounded for a week.”
“They grounded you over watercolors,” I said.
“They did.”
I felt the light I was supposed to be shining on her drain from my system. How in the world could two people actively squash the happiness from their child like that? I held Hailey’s hand tightly while her gaze turned back out the window, but I didn’t want the conversation to end.
I didn’t want her to lock me out again.
“My parent’s anti-art attitude contributed to my brother breaking off contact with them,” I said.
“I don’t think your parents are anti-art. They’re just anti-personal art,” she said.
“Well, either way, it contributed to my brother fleeing to L.A. He didn’t reach out when he needed it the most, and every time he did venture back into town, they always had something to say about it,” I said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not blaming them for my brother’s death or anything, but their unwillingness to accept his passion, even if it was just a hobby, contributed to all the things that built the circumstances of his death. Of him never coming home. Of him never reaching out for help.”
“I wish I could disagree with you,” she said as she squeezed my hand, “but I can’t. Parents not supporting children and allowing them to indulge things that help them grow and express and release, it’s detrimental.”
“I don’t understand how they could’ve done something like that. How could they shut down such a light and such a passion and take it so far as to lose all contact with their son?”
“Did they try to shut it down in you?” she asked.
“When I morphed it into architecture, no. But I still had to hide my own drawings from them. My mother was irate when I started designing my own tattoos. Said I’d never get a decent job. She told me that no one with tattoos ever amounted to anything substantial, and I’d forever walk around with people passing snap judgments.”
“One, people pass snap judgments on others who don’t have tattoos as well. And two, other influencing people have tattoos. Caroline Kennedy has a tattoo, Winston Churchill had a tattoo, Victoria Beckham has a tattoo.”
“Victoria Beckham,” I said, grinning.
“Well, she does. So, your mother can shove it.”
“I think you technically shoved it to her tonight,” I said, smiling.
“The point is, your parents are wrong. So there.”
Even with the playful attitude that had returned, I could feel the darkness growing again. I could hear her words of agreement swirling around in my head. Someone who had sat down with my parents for two hours couldn’t disagree with the fact that they had a hand in my brother’s death. A woman who saw the light in everyone and everything couldn’t disagree with the fact that my parents pushed John away when he needed everyone the most. I started wondering if I simply shouldn’t talk to my parents for a while and if I should just distance myself from them and their toxicity. I tried to be reasonable. I tried to give them all the benefit of the doubt after John died.
But our conversation was showing me they were hellbent on controlling us both from the very beginning, and I started wondering if they weren’t grieving. I started wondering if they were trying to push the memory of John from their lives since he didn’t fit the mold.
I started wondering if they would eventually do the same to me.
They’ve obviously learned nothing. They’re obviously not capable of change. Their attitude will stay the same until the day they die, and that meant they would bring nothing but poison into my life so long as they stuck around. My heart ached for them as I sat there in my truck with Hailey, but the thought of trying to get them to see the error of their ways made me tired. The energy Hailey expended tonight pouring her heart and soul out to them was evident in her eyes, and I knew her words wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.
I didn’t know if I had it in me anymore to keep trying.
“I don’t really talk to my parents much,” Hailey said.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because of that same negativity that was with your parents at dinner. It brought me down to levels I didn’t know existed. The bulk of the darkness you don’t think I possess, I got rid of the day they stopped talking to me. The weight and the shadow they loomed over my life was cast out the moment I chose art over medical school.”