Free Holiday in Your Heart by Susan Fox Page B

“Like I said, I was a shit. And that kid, man, he was one unhappy, demanding baby. Maybe he knew he was a mistake.”
    â€œPoor Evan.”
    â€œI know.” His jaw tightened. “That’s something Brooke and I admitted tonight. We made no bones about letting that poor kid know that he’d ruined our lives. He shaped up real quick: being quiet, trying to please us. Doing well in school, once he reached that age. But Brooke and I were both so immature and miserable, we took our unhappiness out on him as well as on each other.”
    Maribeth stared at him. “I don’t know what to say. It seems so inconceivable to me when parents don’t love their children.”
    He sighed. “I think we both did, in some place in our hearts, but instead of showing it, we screwed him over. Brooke told me tonight that she’d never stopped loving Evan.” He met her gaze. “She told me other stuff, too. Not just her alcoholism, but that she has bipolar disorder. She said you know about that. She appreciated that you didn’t tell me.”
    Maribeth nodded.
    â€œSee, she had excuses,” Mo said. “Excuses for being a crappy mother and, as she said herself tonight, a crappy wife.” He leaned forward to put his mug on the coffee table. “I didn’t.”
    â€œLiving with a wife who was bipolar and alcoholic couldn’t have been easy. Nor was having your own life turn out so differently from what you’d expected.”
    The shadow of a smile played around his mouth, drawing her attention to the sensuality of his lips. “Aw, you’re being nice. Like I said, you’re a nice woman, Maribeth. But the truth is, I had no expectations about what my life would turn out like. I’d already dropped out of high school by the time I met Brooke. Did some drugs, shoplifted, even stole a couple cars and was lucky enough not to get caught. If there hadn’t been Brooke and Evan, I’d have found some other path that I’d surely have messed up. I was a loser. There’s no two ways about it.”
    â€œWhat were your parents like?”
    His eyebrows lifted. “Blame it on the parents? Nah, that’s not gonna wash. Look at Evan. Two shitty parents, and he turned out successful and well-balanced.”
    â€œI’m not talking about blame. There’s no point to blame. I just wondered what it was like for you, growing up.”
    He leaned back and rotated his neck as if he was trying to loosen tight, achy muscles. “We lived in Los Angeles. My dad was an Irish-American kid from a family of cops who broke family tradition and became a baker instead. Amma’s—that’s Hindi for mom—anyhow, her parents had come from India when she was in her teens. Her dad was a microbiologist who got a job with a company in L.A. They expected her to go along with an arranged marriage with a man back in India. Instead, my parents met, fell in love, and got married. Both their families were mad at them and pretty much disowned them.”
    â€œThat’s harsh.”
    â€œYeah, but their parents were right that they weren’t a good match. Oil and water. Or more like corned beef and cabbage versus saag paneer.” He added, “That’s a vegetarian dish, spinach and cheese.”
    â€œI know. I’ve had it.”
    â€œAnyhow, there was lots of squabbling. They were both very demanding of me and my sister, but what they demanded never matched up. Dad wanted to raise us Catholic; Amma wanted us to be Hindu. Dad wanted me to be a baker; Amma wanted me to get a professional degree.”
    â€œThat must have been horrible for you and your sister.” And so different from the way Maribeth had been raised, with parents who respected and truly communicated with each other and with her.
    â€œMy sister Kaitlin,” he went on, “who’s four years older than me, was a good girl who walked the fence between our parents,