Chương 5
“That’s not the point.”
“You were about to make it the point.”
“I was about to say Mom had spent months planning this weekend and the cake mattered to her.”
“Mia is two.”
“I know how old our daughter is.”
“Do you?”
He looked at her.
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Rachel stood.
She walked to the fireplace, then back.
The employee with the untied shoelace had disappeared.
“I’m trying,” Ethan said.
Rachel sat again.
“I know.”
“I’m trying to say Mom was wrong without agreeing with the way you describe everything she does.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“What do I describe incorrectly?”
“You make her sound cruel all the time.”
“Not all the time.”
“You say she undermines you.”
“She does.”
“You say she criticizes Mia.”
“She does.”
“You say she manipulates me.”
Rachel was quiet.
Ethan laughed without humor.
“Exactly.”
“You want me to tell you she doesn’t?”
“I want you to consider that you already hate her.”
Rachel blinked.
“I don’t hate your mother.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“I resent her.”
“That is not the huge distinction you think it is.”
Rachel looked away.
He had found something true and she disliked him for it.
That was part of the problem.
Ethan continued.
“You go into every interaction with her waiting for the insult.”
“Because there usually is one.”
“Sometimes there isn’t.”
“And sometimes I misread her. Fine.”
“You never say that.”
“I just did.”
“Now. After you slapped me.”
The word landed between them.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“I have spent years making excuses for your mother because I love you.”
“And I have spent years listening to you complain about every look she gives you.”
“Because you won’t say anything to her.”
“I do say things.”
“When?”
“All the time.”
“Give me an example.”
Ethan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Rachel felt grim satisfaction rise and immediately hated herself for it.
He stared at her.
“I talked to her after Christmas.”
Rachel’s expression changed.
“When?”
“The next morning.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her she was too hard on Mia.”
“And?”
“She said she’d try.”
Rachel laughed once.
“You never told me that.”
“Because you would’ve asked exactly what she said and exactly how she said it, and then we would’ve spent an hour analyzing whether she meant it.”
Rachel looked at him.
“That is unbelievably unfair.”
“Is it?”
She started to answer.
Stopped.
There was enough truth in it to sting.
Ethan leaned forward.
“This is what I mean. You think I never confront her because I don’t report back to you.”
“I think you don’t confront her because nothing changes.”
“People don’t change because you tell them once.”
“Then tell them twice.”
“I have.”
“Three times.”
“I have.”
“How many?”
“I don’t keep a spreadsheet.”
Rachel nearly snapped back.
Instead she watched him.
He looked exhausted.
Not evasive.
Exhausted.
“How long have you been doing that?”
Ethan looked toward the windows.
“Years.”
Rachel’s anger thinned.
“What?”
“She calls me after you two fight.”
Rachel stared at him.
“What fights?”
“The little ones you don’t consider fights.”
“Like what?”
“The dress you wore to my company dinner.”
Rachel’s face went hot.
“That was three years ago.”
“I know.”
Vivian had told Rachel the green dress was “very confident” for a work event. Rachel had smiled and worn it anyway.
“She called you about my dress?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were trying too hard.”
Rachel sat very still.
“And what did you say?”
“I told her never to comment on your clothes again.”
Rachel searched his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought I was protecting you from pointless crap.”
The anger returned, but it changed direction.
“You let me sit next to her all evening.”
“Yes.”
“Smiling.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing she had called you to criticize what I was wearing.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t protecting me, Ethan.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
The honesty surprised her.
He looked at her.
“I grew up managing her.”
Rachel said nothing.
“If she was upset, everyone adjusted. Dad changed dinner reservations. Claire changed clothes. I changed plans. Nobody called it managing her. We called it keeping things peaceful.”
Rachel thought of Vivian at the dining table, pointing at Mia.
“And now you do it with us.”
Ethan looked down.
“Yes.”
It was the first time he had ever said it.
Rachel should have felt relieved.
Instead she felt tired.
“Why did you tell me to apologize?”
He answered too quickly.
“Because I panicked.”
She waited.
He sighed.
“You yelled at her. Mia was screaming. Mom looked like she was going to explode. Everyone was staring. I wanted it over.”
“So you picked me.”
“Yes.”
The word hurt more than a defense would have.
Rachel swallowed.
“You picked the person you thought would cooperate.”
Ethan stared at his hands.
“Yes.”
For several seconds Rachel heard only the low murmur of the lobby beyond the library.
Then Ethan said, “And you hit me.”
“I know.”
“I need that to stay in the conversation.”
“It will.”
“Because part of me is scared that if we spend enough time talking about Mom, what you did becomes... understandable.”
“It is understandable.”
His face hardened.
Rachel lifted a hand.
“No. Listen. Understandable is not acceptable. I can understand exactly how I got there. I was angry, humiliated, protective, resentful, and I lost control. That still makes it wrong.”
Ethan’s shoulders lowered slightly.
Rachel went on.
“I don’t ever want Mia growing up thinking hitting someone is what you do when you run out of words.”
He nodded.
“Neither do I.”
“And I don’t want her growing up thinking peace means letting the loudest person decide what everyone else is allowed to feel.”
His eyes met hers.
“Neither do I.”
They sat with that.
It was not reconciliation.
It was worse and better.
It was agreement.
Agreement meant responsibility.
Ethan eventually said, “Mom wants us to leave.”
May you like
Rachel blinked.
“The resort?”
