Chapter 5: The Conversation She'd Been Avoiding
Nathan drove to her house alone that afternoon.
I offered to come.
He shook his head.
"I need to talk to her without it being about us," he said.
"Just her and me."
I understood.
I stayed home.
He was gone for three hours.
When he came back, he sat on the couch and didn't take his jacket off.
I sat beside him and waited.
"Her cardiologist found an irregular rhythm six weeks ago," he said.
"She's been wearing a monitor.
She goes back next Thursday for the results."
"Is it serious?"
"They don't know yet.
Could be nothing.
Could need a procedure." He rubbed the side of his face.
"She's been terrified.
She said she didn't want to worry me before there was anything definite to worry about."
"That sounds like her."
"Yeah." He was quiet for a moment.
"She also said she's been feeling useless.
Since Dad died, she said she doesn't know what her place is anymore.
She used to run everything.
The house, the family, the calendar.
And now she feels like she's just — on the outside looking in."
I thought about that.
"She said coming over that morning, she'd planned to help.
She was going to clean up, maybe make soup.
And then she saw you in bed and something just — snapped in her.
She said she felt angry and she didn't even fully understand why."
"She could have asked if I needed anything."
"I know."
"She could have made the soup and left it in the kitchen."
"I know." He turned to look at me.
"She knows that too.
She said it when I pushed her on it.
She said she knows she handled it badly.
She just couldn't say it to you directly."
"Why not?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Because she's proud.
And because she's scared.
And because she's been taking those two things out on you for three years and she doesn't know how to stop."
I looked at my hands.
"Three years," I said.
"Yeah."
"So this wasn't just about one bad morning."
"No," Nathan said.
"It wasn't."
We sat with that for a while.
"I'm not going to pretend the post didn't happen," I said finally.
"I'm not going to smile at Sunday dinner and act like it's fine."
"I'm not asking you to."
"But I also don't want to be at war with your mother while she's waiting on heart results."
Nathan exhaled slowly.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want her to say it to my face.
Not through you.
Not through Diane.
To me, directly."
"I'll tell her that."
"And I want it to be real.
Not just because you pushed her into it."
He nodded.
"I'll tell her that too."
He finally took his jacket off.
Folded it over the arm of the couch.
"She asked about you," he said.
"At the end.
She asked how you were feeling.
Whether the cough was better."
I didn't say anything.
"I thought you should know," he said.
I stood up and went to the kitchen to start dinner.
I didn't know what to do with that information yet.
But I held onto it.
Three days later, Patricia called my phone.
Not Nathan's.
Mine.
It rang four times before I picked up.
"I'd like to come over," she said.
"If that's all right with you."
Her voice was different.
Not softer exactly.
But smaller.
"When?" I said.
"Whenever suits you."
I looked at the calendar on the wall.
"Saturday.
Two o'clock."
"I'll be there," she said.
She hung up before I could say anything else.
I stood in the kitchen holding my phone, not entirely sure what Saturday was going to bring.
But something had shifted.
May you like
I could feel it.
I just didn't know yet whether it was shifting toward better or toward something harder.
