Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS NOT MY JOB
Lorraine and I did not become best friends.
That would have been dishonest.
For several months we barely spoke.
Then she mailed me a birthday card.
Inside:
I’m trying to learn the difference between being loved and being served. I should have learned sooner.
I kept it.
When she turned seventy-three, she invited Jenna and me to lunch.
Daniel was there.
That nearly made me leave.
Lorraine noticed.
“I invited both of you separately.”
“I can go.”
Daniel said it before I could.
He stood.
Lorraine stopped him.
“No.”
Then looked at me.
“You can leave if you want. But I would like both of my family relationships to exist without pretending the divorce never happened.”
That was unexpectedly mature.
I stayed.
Lunch was awkward.
Fine.
At one point Lorraine’s medication alarm sounded.
She reached into her purse.
Daniel said:
“Do you need food with that one?”
She looked surprised.
Then smiled.
“Yes.”
He waved to the server.
No one looked at me.
No one asked me.
I almost cried over a bread roll.
Progress is humiliating sometimes.
Daniel had changed too.
Not enough to restore our marriage.
Enough to become less exhausting as a human being.
He eventually admitted he had believed earning more money made his time more valuable.
He had never phrased it that way.
But his choices did.
My unpaid hours were elastic.
His billable hours were sacred.
My missed promotion was family sacrifice.
His client dinner was nonnegotiable.
Once he saw the pattern, he apologized.
I accepted the apology.
May you like
Not the marriage back.
Those are different things.
