Chapter 11 - THE QUESTION MOM ASKED MY HUSBAND
My mother had met Andrew secretly three days before our wedding.
She never told me.
Neither did he.
“What did she want?”
Andrew looked embarrassed.
“She asked whether I had ever cheated on anyone.”
I stared.
“That’s all?”
“No.”
Of course not.
“She asked whether I had debt. Whether I watched pornography. Whether I had ever been arrested. Whether I had ever hit a woman.”
My mouth fell open.
“She interviewed you?”
“Basically.”
“And you answered?”
“I was trying to marry her daughter.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Then Andrew’s expression changed.
“She also offered me a way out.”
“What does that mean?”
“She said if I had doubts, she would help cancel the wedding quietly.”
My stomach turned.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought she was a terrified mother who had been cheated on.”
That was probably true.
It was also intrusive.
“What did you tell her?”
Andrew smiled faintly.
“That you were the only part of the wedding I was completely sure about.”
My eyes filled before I could stop them.
He took my hand.
“I should have told you years ago.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Both could be true.
That was something my family rarely understood.
Someone could hurt you and still love you.
Someone could make a bad choice without becoming entirely bad.
Accountability did not require turning people into monsters.
The next afternoon, Kayla called from the hotel.
“I got the job.”
For the first time all week, I smiled.
“The marketing position?”
“Yes.”
“When do you start?”
“Monday.”
“That’s great.”
She hesitated.
“And I called the therapist Evan wanted me to see.”
I didn’t praise her dramatically.
She didn’t need applause for taking a responsible step.
“I’m glad.”
Then she said:
“She asked me to bring the notebook.”
I looked at the notebook still sitting in my desk drawer.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
A pause.
“Maybe figure out why I needed it.”
That sounded like progress.
Then her voice dropped.
“Amanda, there’s something else.”
My stomach braced automatically.
“Mom came to the hotel.”
“What?”
“She wanted me to move in with her.”
“Are you going?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because she said something.”
“What?”
Kayla swallowed.
“She said none of this would have happened if Dad hadn’t made us this way.”
I closed my eyes.
Mom was still refusing responsibility.
Then Kayla added:
“So I asked her something I’ve never asked before.”
“What?”
“I asked if Dad ever apologized to her.”
I waited.
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
My heart shifted.
Kayla continued.
“Mom still has the letter.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because she lied about what it says.”
Two hours later, Kayla sent me a photograph.
Dad’s final letter to Mom.
The last line read:
May you like
Diane, I failed you as a husband.
But please stop teaching our daughters that every man is waiting for a chance to fail them.
