Chapter 7: The Call She Made to Everyone Else
She called my Aunt Patricia first.
Then my cousin Drew.
Then, apparently, three women from her church group, two former neighbors, and my father's sister, Aunt Ros, whom she hadn't spoken to in six years.
I know this because they called me.
Patricia called on a Wednesday morning while I was making Milo's bottle.
"Marcus, I just want to make sure you're all right.
Your mother called last night and she was very upset—"
"I know, Aunt Patricia."
"She said Renata locked her out of the house."
"That's not what happened."
"She said you sided with Renata over your own mother after everything Colette has done for your family—"
"Aunt Patricia." I set the bottle down.
"Renata was in the hospital.
She collapsed because she was sick and exhausted and my mother pressured her into cooking a full dinner instead of resting.
I asked Mom to leave.
That's the whole story."
A long pause.
"Oh."
"I have the messages my mother sent Renata over the past three days if you'd like to read them."
Another pause.
"No, I — no, that's all right." Her voice had changed.
"Is Renata okay?"
"She's recovering.
She'll be fine."
"I'm glad." A beat.
"Marcus, I'm sorry.
I should have asked before I called."
Drew's call was shorter.
He listened, asked two questions, and then said, "Yeah, that tracks.
She did the same thing to Beth, you know.
Before Beth's wedding."
"Dad mentioned that."
"Beth didn't tell anyone for two years.
She thought she was the problem." A pause.
"You did the right thing, man."
Aunt Ros didn't call.
She sent a text: *Heard from Colette.
Didn't believe a word of it.
Give Renata my love.*
But the call I hadn't expected came on Thursday evening.
My phone showed a number I didn't recognize.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Something made me answer.
"Is this Marcus Hale?" A woman's voice.
Older.
Careful.
"Yes.
Who's this?"
"My name is Diane.
Diane Hale.
I was married to your Uncle Paul."
I sat down.
"Diane."
"I know this is out of nowhere.
Your father gave me your number.
I hope that's all right."
"It's fine.
Of course."
"I heard what happened with Colette and your wife." A pause.
"I wanted to call because — I remember what it was like.
When it was happening to me.
And I remember how alone I felt.
And I thought maybe it would help your wife to know she's not the first.
And that it does get better.
Once you've drawn the line, it gets better."
I walked to the hallway so Renata couldn't hear me from the living room.
"Can I ask — how bad did it get for you?"
Diane was quiet for a moment.
"I had a breakdown.
Eighteen months in.
Paul nearly left, not because he wanted to but because he didn't know how to help me and Colette had convinced him I was the unstable one." A pause.
"It took us a long time to come back from that.
But we did."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry.
Just — don't wait as long as we did to draw the line.
Paul and I lost two years to it.
You and Renata don't have to."
"Diane," I said.
"Would you be willing to talk to Renata?
Not now.
When she's stronger.
But I think — I think it would mean a lot to her to hear from someone who came through it."
A pause.
Then, quietly: "Yes.
I'd like that."
I hung up and stood in the hallway for a moment.
Then I went back to the living room, sat beside Renata, and told her about the call.
She listened without speaking.
When I finished, she looked down at Milo in her arms.
"She's done this before," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"To someone else in this family."
"Yes."
She was quiet for a long moment.
"And nobody stopped it."
"No," I said.
"Not until now."
She looked up at me.
Her eyes were steady — not the careful steadiness of someone holding themselves together, but something more solid than that.
Something that had been tested and had held.
May you like
"Okay," she said.
"So what do we do?"
