Chapter 5: What She Said to My Mother
My sister's name is Claire.
She is three years younger than me and she has never once in her life been able to keep a difficult thing to herself for long.
She said she'd been sitting on this for weeks, waiting for the right moment, and that today had made it clear there was no right moment — there was only now.
"She called Mum," Claire said.
"The day after you delivered.
Not to congratulate her.
Not to ask how you were."
"What did she say?"
"She told Mum that Daniel had only stayed with you because of the pregnancy.
That once the girls were older and he saw what his life had become, he'd realize he'd made a mistake.
She said Mum should prepare herself for a difficult few years."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"She said that to our mother."
"Word for word, as close as Mum can remember.
Mum didn't tell you because you'd just given birth and she didn't want to put that in your head while you were still in hospital."
I looked at Daniel.
He was watching my face.
"Did you know about this?" I asked him.
"No," he said.
"I didn't know she called your mother."
"Claire," I said into the phone, "does Mum know you're telling me this?"
"I told her I was going to.
She said it was time."
After I hung up, Daniel and I sat in silence for a long moment.
"She called my mother," I said.
"The day after I gave birth.
To tell her our marriage was going to fail."
"Nora—"
"While I was in hospital.
While the girls were being monitored.
While you were driving back and forth every day with your questions for the doctors." My voice was steady.
I was surprised by that.
"She picked up the phone and called my mother to plant that seed."
Daniel stood up.
He walked to the window and stood with his back to me, one hand on the frame.
"I need to call her," he said.
"Tonight?"
"Yes.
Tonight."
"Daniel, it's almost ten."
"I know what time it is."
He picked up his phone.
I watched him find the number and press call.
He didn't leave the room.
It rang four times.
Then her voice, careful and composed: "Daniel."
"I know about the call to Nora's mother," he said.
"The day after she delivered."
A pause.
"I was concerned—"
"Don't." His voice didn't rise.
It went flatter.
"Don't tell me you were concerned.
You called her mother to tell her our marriage was going to fail.
The day after my wife gave birth to our three daughters."
"I said what I believed to be true."
"Then I need you to hear what I believe to be true." He turned so he was facing me now, phone to his ear, looking directly at me.
"I am not going to be managing your relationship with my family anymore.
I'm not going to be translating for you, excusing you, or protecting you from consequences you've earned.
That ends now."
"You're upset.
You'll feel differently in the morning."
"I won't," he said.
"Goodnight, Mum."
He ended the call.
May you like
He set the phone on the counter and looked at me for a long moment.
Then his father's name lit up the screen.
