Chapter 7: Sandra
My hand tightened on the phone.
"Sandra." I kept my voice steady.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better today.
Ethan doesn't know I'm calling.
I hope that's all right."
"It's all right."
A pause.
I could hear her breathing.
Careful, measured.
The kind of breathing that takes effort.
"I wanted to thank you," she said.
"For how you've treated him.
Ethan.
He came home on Saturday and he was — he seemed lighter.
He hasn't seemed light in a long time."
"He's easy to be kind to," I said.
And I meant it.
"He is." Her voice warmed.
"He gets that from himself, I think.
I can't take much credit."
"I think you can take more than you're claiming."
She was quiet for a moment.
"I've thought about you for a long time, Carol.
Not with guilt, exactly.
More with — curiosity.
I wondered what kind of woman Dean had built a life with.
Whether he was happy.
Whether you were."
"We were," I said.
"We are.
It's complicated right now.
But we were."
"I'm glad." She paused.
"I want you to know — I never wanted to disrupt your life.
Writing that letter was the hardest thing I've done.
I almost didn't send it."
"Why did you?"
"Because Ethan was going to find Dean with or without my help.
And I thought if he arrived without any context, without any preparation — it could go very badly.
I thought if you had the letter first, you'd have something to hold onto.
Some sense of who I am.
Or who I was trying to be."
I looked out the window at the garden.
A bird was moving through the bare hedge.
"It helped," I said.
"The letter helped."
She exhaled.
"Good."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"When you decided not to tell Dean — when you made that choice — were you protecting him?
Or yourself?"
A long silence.
"Both," she said.
"I think I was protecting both of us.
And I told myself it was noble.
It took me a long time to admit that part of it was just — easier.
Starting over was easier than the conversation."
"Thank you for being honest about that."
"You deserve honesty.
You've deserved it for a long time."
I heard Lynn's voice rise briefly through the wall, then settle.
"Dean wants to see you," I said.
"He told Ethan.
He wants to apologize."
"He doesn't owe me an apology."
"He feels he does.
I think you should let him give it."
Another pause.
"All right."
"And I'd like to come with him.
If that's acceptable."
The silence this time was different.
Surprised.
"You want to come," she said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
I thought about the letter.
About the careful handwriting.
About a woman who had spent twenty-five years making a decision she couldn't fully defend and had still chosen, at the end, to tell the truth.
"Because you wrote to me," I said.
"Not to Dean.
To me.
And I think that deserves a response in person."
She didn't speak for a moment.
When she did, her voice was different.
Smaller.
"Next week," she said.
"If I'm having a good day, Ethan will call you."
"We'll be there."
I heard the study door open down the hallway.
Lynn came back into the kitchen.
She looked at me on the phone and raised her eyebrows.
I held up one finger.
"Sandra," I said.
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Ethan said you keep asking whether things are sorted here.
Whether he's managed it."
"I do ask that.
Yes."
"Tell him they're sorted.
Tell him he can stop worrying about us and just be with you."
Her breath caught.
Just slightly.
"Thank you, Carol."
"Take care of yourself."
I ended the call and set the phone on the table.
Lynn was staring at me.
"Was that her?"
"Yes."
"You're going to visit her."
"Next week.
If she's well enough."
Lynn pulled out the chair across from me and sat down slowly.
"Mum."
"Don't."
"I'm not saying anything."
"Good."
She looked at me for a long moment.
"Dad's coming out in a minute.
He wants to talk to you."
"I know."
"Are you ready?"
I straightened the phone on the table.
Lined it up with the edge of the placemat.
"I've been married to that man for thirty-four years," I said.
"I know every version of him.
The good ones and the ones that fall short." I looked at my daughter.
"I'm not ready.
But I'm not leaving either.
So we'll do it anyway."
Lynn nodded.
The study door opened.
May you like
Dean's footsteps came down the hallway.
I kept my hands flat on the table and waited for him.
