Chapter 7 - HIS FIRST OFFER
Three days after the banquet, my husband’s attorney sent a proposal.
He wanted me to return home.
He wanted “family counseling.”
He wanted both sides to agree not to discuss the incident publicly.
Most importantly, he wanted me to confirm in writing that his mother had not intentionally harmed our daughter.
I read that sentence four times.
Then I laughed.
My attorney did not.
“This is not reconciliation.”
“I know.”
“This is liability control.”
“I know.”
The proposal also stated that my mother-in-law would remain involved in our daughter’s life under “reasonable supervision.”
I pushed the papers away.
“No.”
My attorney nodded.
“Then we say no.”
That evening, my husband came to my friend’s apartment building.
He could not enter without being buzzed in.
So he stood outside and called.
I answered for the first time.
“What do you want?”
“To talk to my wife.”
“You can talk.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Then you don’t get to talk.”
He exhaled sharply.
“You’re enjoying this.”
I almost could not believe him.
“My daughter was hit.”
“Our daughter.”
“Then start acting like her father.”
Silence.
When he finally answered, his voice was lower.
“Mom made a mistake.”
I looked through the window.
He was standing beside his car, rubbing his forehead.
“A mistake is forgetting a birthday card.”
“She lost her temper.”
“With a two-year-old.”
“She feels terrible.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Did she apologize to our daughter?”
No answer.
“Did she ask if our daughter was okay?”
Silence again.
I continued.
“Did you?”
He stopped rubbing his forehead.
“I was upset.”
“So was she.”
“You hit me.”
“Yes.”
“You shoved my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Do you even regret that?”
I thought carefully.
“I regret that our daughter had to see any of it.”
He seized on that.
“So you admit you were wrong.”
There it was again.
He needed my reaction to erase the cause.
“No.”
His face changed.
“No?”
“I’m done pretending the five seconds after your mother struck our daughter are more important than everything that happened before them.”
He looked up toward the apartment windows.
“You’re going to break this family apart.”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“You already did that when you watched her hit our child and decided your biggest problem was embarrassment.”
He said my name sharply.
May you like
I ended the call.
The next morning, I filed for separation.
