Chapter 7 - DAD TOLD ME THE TRUTH ABOUT MOM
My mother died when I was twenty-six.
Cancer.
Fast.
She met Evan only twice.
I remembered her being polite but distant.
One afternoon, while Dad and I sorted old photographs, he said:
“Your mom didn’t like him.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“She didn’t.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She did.”
I froze.
“When?”
“After the second dinner.”
I searched memory.
Mom had said:
“He watches you too closely.”
I laughed then.
Called it romantic.
Dad continued.
“She told me she thought he answered for you too much.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why didn’t you push?”
Dad looked down.
“Because you loved him.”
“That stopped you?”
“No.”
He thought.
“I was afraid if I attacked him, you’d defend him and stop telling us things.”
That hurt because he may have been right.
“I should’ve done more.”
I shook my head.
“You were trying to keep the door open.”
“Yes.”
“Then keep it open now.”
He smiled sadly.
That became our understanding.
Dad would not run my life after Evan stopped running it.
He did not choose my lawyer.
Did not tell me whether to sell the house.
Did not dictate custody strategy.
He offered.
I decided.
May you like
That difference was everything.
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