Chapter 7 - The private chat grows worse
I did not publish Mercer Adults.
Not yet.
I read everything Melissa still had.
She sent a full export after asking the other members? No.
She had access to her own chat history and exported messages she had participated in.
Dana told me:
“Do not hack anybody’s account.”
“I won’t.”
Melissa provided what she lawfully had.
The history was uglier than the steak.
Not criminal.
Not secret abuse instructions.
A culture.
After Lily’s kindergarten recital:
Diane:
Lily cried because Rachel wasn’t in the front row.
Rachel was in the third row, Melissa replied.
Diane:
Same point.
Tom:
Future actress.
Frank:
Future therapy bill.
Laughing emojis.
After Ethan scored two soccer goals:
Frank:
That boy has Mercer blood.
Melissa:
Lily has Mercer blood too.
Frank:
You know what I mean.
I did know.
Frank associated toughness, athleticism, appetite, and compliance with:
Mercer.
Anything else belonged to:
Rachel.
Or Ryan.
Ryan’s family was less affluent.
Blue-collar.
His father drove a delivery truck.
His mother worked at a dental office.
My parents had never forgiven me for marrying him at twenty-four.
Even after our divorce they still used him as explanation.
Lily’s caution?
Ryan.
Her dislike of steak pink?
Ryan’s family eats everything well-done.
Her quietness?
Ryan.
When Lily did well in school?
Mercer.
Convenient genetics.
Then one message changed my understanding.
Six months before the barbecue.
Diane:
Rachel needs to stop correcting us in front of Lily. She’s teaching that child adults have to explain themselves.
Frank:
Exactly.
Tom:
What happened?
Diane:
Lily didn’t want Frank teasing her about the boots. Rachel made him apologize.
Tom:
God forbid.
Frank:
Next thing she’ll demand written consent before I tell a joke.
Then Melissa:
Maybe if Lily says stop, stop.
Long gap.
Frank:
You’re getting as bad as Rachel.
That was the real divide.
Not food.
Not gifts.
Authority.
My parents believed children should experience adult behavior without challenging the adult’s right to define it.
If Frank said joke, it was a joke.
If Diane said equal, it was equal.
If Lily cried, the problem became resilience.
I had begun teaching Lily that her experience mattered.
My parents interpreted that as rebellion.
The burnt steak was a lesson.
May you like
Not just for Lily.
For me.
