Chương 6
“I heard Grandma first.”
Nobody had an answer for that.
I ended the call a minute later after Caroline apologized again.
This time I did not tell her it was okay.
The second the call ended, Lily said, “She made everybody think Mom was keeping Noah away.”
Dad nodded slowly.
“And she made Mom think everybody wanted Noah away.”
I looked at him.
The sentence hung there.
Dad seemed to understand it at the same moment I did.
Mom had positioned herself in the middle.
Every invitation.
Every complaint.
Every frustration.
Every misunderstanding.
She had made herself the translator.
The gatekeeper.
The person who knew what everyone really meant.
My phone rang again.
Eric.
I answered.
“Hey.”
He didn’t say hello.
“I screwed up.”
I stared at the table.
“How badly?”
“Pretty badly.”
“Tell me.”
“I believed Caroline.”
“About me asking Mom to keep Noah away from things?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“I was pissed.”
“At me.”
“At what I thought you were doing.”
His voice was tight.
“I thought you were making Mom lie for you and then acting hurt when people stopped inviting you.”
I rubbed my thumb against the edge of the table.
“That sounds like me to you?”
“No.”
“Apparently it did.”
“Marissa.”
“Don’t rush past that.”
He went silent.
I could hear a car passing on his end.
Finally he said, “No, it doesn’t sound like you.”
“Then why did you believe it?”
“Because it fit what I was seeing.”
“What were you seeing?”
“You stopped showing up.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“I wasn’t invited.”
“I thought you were.”
“I thought I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
We sat inside the awful symmetry of it.
Then Eric said, “Mom told me you didn’t want us pressuring you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“She was very concerned about pressure.”
“Yeah.”
He sounded disgusted with himself.
“God.”
I stood and walked to the window.
A delivery van idled across the street while a man carried two boxes to my neighbor’s porch.
The ordinary movement of the morning made the conversation feel unreal.
Eric said, “There’s something else.”
“Of course there is.”
“Mason asked about Noah.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What about him?”
“After his birthday.”
I turned from the window.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said you guys were busy.”
“That was true enough.”
“The first time.”
I waited.
“The second time he asked why Noah never came anymore.”
My stomach dropped.
“And?”
“I told him sometimes families need space.”
Lily closed her eyes.
Dad looked at the floor.
Eric’s voice broke slightly.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
That phrase again.
Protection.
Every adult hurting Noah seemed to have found some version of it.
“What did Mason hear?”
Eric was quiet.
“Probably that Noah didn’t want to see him.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
Noah adored Mason.
He talked about him constantly.
He copied the way Mason wore his baseball cap backward.
He had spent three afternoons building that ridiculous dragon birthday card because Mason liked fantasy games.
“Does Mason think Noah doesn’t like him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should find out.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“And don’t fix it by blaming Grandma.”
Eric went silent.
“Tell him you made a mistake.”
“He needs to know adults can be wrong without making another adult the monster.”
Eric breathed out.
“That’s fair.”
It did not feel fair.
It felt exhausting.
But I did not want the next generation inheriting the same habit we had.
Explain.
Excuse.
Redirect.
Keep the peace.
Eric said, “Can I talk to Noah?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll ask him later.”
“Okay.”
Before hanging up, he said, “I’m sorry.”
I almost gave him the easy answer.
Instead I said, “I know.”
After the call, Dad stood.
“I should go.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because you have enough.”
“That’s what everyone keeps deciding for me.”
He stopped.
I softened my voice.
“Sit down.”
He sat.
Lily brought him the coffee she had stolen.
It was half gone.
“This is yours anyway.”
Dad took it.
“Thank you for returning my property.”
“You’re welcome.”
My phone buzzed with Susan’s message again.
This time I opened it.
I didn’t cancel Easter.
Your mother told me Noah couldn’t come unless I changed the egg hunt to make it quieter and separated the younger kids.
Then she told me you said I was selfish when I refused.
I read the message aloud.
Dad shut his eyes.
Lily whispered, “Did you say that?”
“No.”
I opened the thread with Susan.
Call me.
She did.
Her voice was immediately defensive.
“I know how it looks.”
“I don’t.”
“Marissa, I was mad.”
“I know.”
“No, I was really mad.”
She paused.
“I said some things.”
“What things?”
“I told Diane if you thought the entire family had to redesign Easter around one child, maybe you should host it yourself.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did Mom tell you I said something back?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Susan hesitated.
“That you said I cared more about convenience than Noah feeling safe.”
I laughed without meaning to.
“That sounds polished for me.”
Susan made a small, miserable noise.
“I should’ve known.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t talk like that.”
Despite everything, Lily smiled.
Susan continued.
“Then Diane told me you weren’t coming.”
“She told me Easter was canceled because rain ruined the yard.”
There was silence.
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.”
“It didn’t even rain.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were making a point.”
“And I thought you were avoiding us.”
Susan started crying.
I looked toward the ceiling.
I was running out of room for other people’s tears.
Then she said something that changed the shape of the whole morning.
“Marissa, she did this before Noah.”
I went still.
“What?”
Dad’s eyes snapped toward the phone.
Susan inhaled.
“When you were pregnant with Lily.”
I looked at my daughter.
Lily frowned.
“What did she do?”
Susan’s voice lowered.
May you like
“She told us you didn’t want visitors because you thought everyone was too involved.”
Dad stood abruptly.
