For a moment, she looked as if she might faint.
“Ben, I don’t know what this is about,” she said quietly. “She’s… she’s always been emotional. Maybe she —”
“Don’t lie to me!”
The words exploded out of me, echoing against the porch walls.
“You’ve never liked her. You’ve always found ways to undermine her, criticize her —”
“I’ve only ever tried to help!” she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I turned away from her, my stomach churning.
I couldn’t trust anything she said anymore.
Whatever had happened between them had driven Suzie to leave.
And now I was the one left behind to deal with the wreckage.
That night, after finally settling Callie and Jessica into their cribs, I sat alone at the kitchen table.
The note lay in one hand.
A glass of whiskey sat in the other.
My mother’s protests still echoed in my head, but they couldn’t drown out the question that kept repeating over and over in my mind.
What did you do, Mom?
I began replaying old family gatherings in my head.
The subtle comments.
The small jabs.
