Tuesday Tales and Shades of Gray

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.

A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. This week we share the prompt "gray".  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds.  This will be an excerpt from my brand new yet-to-be-named WIP.

Enjoy!~

“I very recently found out my father had at least one affair, probably more.” She nodded her head, prodding me forward. Obviously, I hadn’t said anything out of line yet. “I don’t really think mom and dad loved each other very long after they got married. They had separate beds, which later evolved into separate beds in separate rooms. He had at least one child from his skirting around.”

“Only one? I can’t imagine how his insatiable appetite for strange yielded only one kiddo.”

“Wow, you really have my father pegged. How long did you have his number?”

“He was sleeping around as soon as he hit puberty. Somehow, he possessed the charm to drop panties. Surely, he wasn’t careful enough to always use protection. He was never worried about the end game.”

“Did you ever talk with my mom about any of this? Maybe try to warn her?” Stuck in the middle between guarding my mother’s honor and allowing her free will pinned me into a corner. “Did he ever love my mom?”

“Absolutely! He loved your mom. They married with the best of intentions and made great business partners. I thought possibly she might tame his savage ways. He was loyal longer than I thought he would be.”

“What happened?”

“Dammit, this is gonna be a tough delivery, so bear with me. When your mom became pregnant with you, apparently, she didn’t feel very…frisky, if you know what I mean.”

“He couldn’t keep it holstered nine months?”

“She came to me crying one day with a stereotypical tale. While doing laundry, she found a matchbook in his pocket with a phone number written on it. He didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. I think he knew she wouldn’t leave while pregnant, so, he tested the waters. Your father learned how far he could push boundaries. Eventually, he pushed her right out of the bedroom.”

Anger, shame, guilt all boiled like a responsive stew from the bottoms of my feet to the top of my head. “It was my fault, her life turned to a gray area. Does my mom blame me?”