Chapter 16 - MY OWN FAILUREI had helped create the conditions Andrew used.
After Dad died, Mom called me constantly.
I had a demanding job as a university hospital administrator.
Two teenagers.
A divorce finalized three years earlier.
My life was busy enough that grief felt like another department requiring staffing.
When Mom repeated questions, I became impatient.
“Mom, we talked about this yesterday.”
When she said Andrew moved her pills, I answered:
“Maybe he’s organizing them.”
When she said Vanessa hit her, I asked:
“Are you sure she didn’t grab you because you were falling?”
She hung up.
I called back later.
She said:
“Never mind.”
That sentence became painful in retrospect.
I did not cause Vanessa to slap her.
I did not hide medication.
But I trained Mom, accidentally, that telling me something strange might result in me explaining it away.
That mattered.
I apologized.
Mom said:
“I sounded crazy.”
I answered:
“You sounded scared.”
“Same thing sometimes.”
May you like
“No.”
I wished I had known that earlier.
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