Chương 6
Her mouth tightened.
“He shouldn’t have had to.”
I walked past her.
The house smelled like cinnamon air freshener and bacon.
Someone had left three wedding centerpiece arrangements on the dining table, their white roses already browning at the edges.
Dad sat in the kitchen with a yellow legal pad in front of him.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
Mom followed me in.
“You could at least sit down.”
I sat.
She remained standing.
That was deliberate.
Mom liked conversations better when she could move around them.
“I cannot believe you contacted those vendors behind our backs.”
I looked at Dad.
“So this is the adult conversation?”
“Diane.”
“No, Richard, she needs to hear this.”
“I heard plenty yesterday.”
Mom’s cheeks colored.
“I was put in an impossible position.”
“By me arriving at my sister’s wedding?”
“By you arriving unannounced.”
“I told Brooke my flight number.”
“Brooke had enough stress.”
“She wasn’t too stressed to ask me for perfume.”
Mom blinked.
Dad looked down at the legal pad.
That detail had apparently not been included in whatever version of events they had discussed.
“Why did you tell the Caldwells I abandoned the family?” I asked.
Mom’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“Brooke called you.”
“She answered my question.”
“She had no business dragging you into that.”
“I was already in it.”
“You live five thousand miles away.”
“That doesn’t make me fictional.”
Dad shifted in his chair.
“Diane, just explain.”
Mom turned on him.
“Don’t you start.”
He looked down again.
I nearly laughed.
Even now.
Even with thirty-eight thousand dollars sitting between us, his instinct was retreat.
Mom crossed her arms.
“When Brooke started dating Garrett, we met his parents.”
“I know.”
“The Caldwells are very traditional.”
“Marjorie seemed capable of surviving the existence of a second daughter.”
“You spent thirty seconds with her.”
“And you spent long enough to lie to her.”
Mom’s lips flattened.
“It wasn’t a lie.”
I waited.
She looked toward the dining room.
“You left.”
“For a job.”
“You left the family.”
“I call you every Sunday.”
“That isn’t the same as being here.”
“So you told people I cut you off?”
“You did, in ways.”
I felt something hot rise behind my ribs.
“Name one.”
“You stopped helping your father without interrogating him about every dollar.”
Dad flinched.
I looked at him.
He suddenly became fascinated by his pen.
Mom continued.
“You refused to co-sign the refinance.”
“Because I already had a mortgage.”
“You don’t have children.”
The sentence came so naturally from her that for a moment none of us reacted.
Then Dad said, “Diane.”
“What?”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
She looked at me.
“You’ve always had more freedom than Brooke.”
I stared at her.
“I have more money because I work.”
“So does your father.”
Dad made a small sound.
Mom ignored him.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You don’t have the responsibilities we have.”
“What responsibilities?”
“Family.”
There it was again.
The word they stretched or shrank depending on what they needed.
Family meant I should pay.
Family meant I should not ask questions.
Family meant Brooke deserved protection.
Yesterday, family had apparently meant everyone except me.
I leaned back.
“Why did you exclude me from the wedding?”
Mom looked at Dad.
He did not rescue her.
For once, neither did I.
“It started with the engagement party,” she said.
“What did?”
“The story.”
I waited.
“Marjorie asked why you weren’t there.”
“I wasn’t invited to that either.”
“It was small.”
“Continue.”
Mom pressed her lips together.
“I said you were overseas and that things between us were complicated.”
“That’s not the same as saying I abandoned you.”
“It became difficult to correct.”
“How?”
“Because people ask questions.”
“What questions?”
“Why you never come home.”
“I came home last Christmas.”
“You stayed at a hotel.”
“Because you gave my room to Brooke and Garrett.”
“That’s beside the point.”
I almost admired the speed of it.
Reality approached Mom and somehow always found itself redirected.
Dad tapped his pen against the legal pad.
“What your mother is trying to say is that she exaggerated.”
Mom shot him a look.
“You agreed with me.”
“I didn’t agree with all of it.”
“You certainly didn’t object.”
His jaw tightened.
The room went quiet.
For the first time, I saw something I had rarely allowed myself to see.
My parents were not a united force.
They were two people who had spent years helping each other avoid responsibility in different ways.
Mom created the version of reality she needed.
Dad signed it through silence.
“What did you tell them?” I asked.
Mom rubbed her palm against her sweater.
“That you had distanced yourself.”
“What else?”
“That you were angry about money.”
“What else?”
“Athena, it was conversation.”
“What else?”
She looked toward Dad.
He said nothing.
I leaned forward.
“Mom.”
Her eyes came back to mine.
“I said you had refused to help us when your father’s business was struggling.”
I laughed.
I could not help it.
Dad’s face reddened.
Mom frowned.
“I don’t see what’s funny.”
“I gave him twelve thousand dollars.”
Marjorie Caldwell’s confusion at the barn door came back to me.
I thought you said you only had one daughter.
Mom had not merely hidden me.
She had built a reason for my absence that made her look abandoned.
“How much does Garrett know about the wedding money?” I asked.
Neither parent answered.
That was answer enough.
I looked at Dad.
“How much?”
He put the pen down.
“Brooke told him we were paying.”
I stared at him.
“All of it?”
“She wanted to avoid awkwardness.”
I stood.
Mom immediately said, “Sit down.”
“No.”
“Athena.”
“You told Garrett and his parents you were paying for the wedding.”
“We intended to.”
“With what?”
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
Mom’s expression sharpened.
“We would have managed.”
“How?”
“We always do.”
May you like
“No.”
The word came out quieter than I expected.
