Chapter 7 - Robert calls
Robert called me six days after Thanksgiving.
“Claire.”
“Hi.”
His voice sounded tired.
“Is Evan okay?”
“Better.”
“Can I speak to him?”
“Not today.”
“Okay.”
No argument.
That earned something.
I asked:
“Are you still at the hotel?”
“I rented a furnished apartment.”
Margaret had not mentioned that.
“How long?”
“Three months to start.”
“Are you divorcing her?”
“I don’t know.”
I appreciated the answer.
He continued:
“I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For not seeing this sooner.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
“You weren’t at the table when it started.”
“I mean years.”
“What did you see?”
He exhaled.
“Margaret making jokes about Evan’s eating.”
“Yes.”
“Calling him fussy.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel staying quiet.”
Yes.
“You correcting her.”
“Yes.”
“I treated it as the three of you having different parenting styles.”
There.
Reasonable misclassification.
Until it wasn’t.
“I also knew she favored the kids who made things easy.”
“Which kids?”
“Daniel’s sister Lauren’s boys. Your nieces and nephews. Evan sometimes got the short end.”
He sounded ashamed.
“Why didn’t you intervene?”
“I told myself grandparents are allowed different relationships with different grandchildren.”
True in abstract.
Dangerous as blanket.
He continued:
“Then I saw a dog bowl at a nine-year-old’s place.”
Silence.
“Robert.”
“Yes?”
“Did Margaret say anything to you after we left?”
Long pause.
“She said Daniel knew.”
My jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“She said you made Evan weak by teaching him every feeling needed an accommodation.”
There.
Not a joke.
A philosophy.
“What else?”
“She said someone had to teach him before he became impossible.”
I closed my eyes.
Robert’s voice hardened.
“I asked her whether humiliation was teaching.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘It worked on our boys.’”
Our boys.
Daniel.
His older brother Mark, who lived in Arizona and barely visited.
“Did it?”
“No.”
Simple.
Then Robert said something unexpected.
“Daniel used to vomit before Sunday dinner when he was twelve.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He had ulcers? We thought nerves. Margaret had strict table rules. He hated peas and fatty meat. She made him sit.”
I could not breathe correctly for a second.
“Did you stop her?”
“No.”
There.
Robert did not decorate it.
“I should have.”
History had entered the room.
May you like
Not excuse.
Mechanism.
