Chapter 6 - Mark’s Explanation
Mark and I met with lawyers present.
He hated it.
Good.
Not because I wanted him uncomfortable.
Because his favorite tactic had always been:
“Can we just talk like married people?”
Meaning:
No record.
No structure.
No one to slow us down.
This time, we had structure.
He began:
“I did not tell Mom to hit Emma.”
“I believe you.”
He looked relieved.
Too early.
“I did agree with what she said.”
His face tightened.
“You were angry.”
“Yes.”
“You threw a cake.”
“Yes.”
“I’m dealing with that separately.”
Then:
“Why did you say she was right?”
He looked at the table.
“I’m tired of pretending the question doesn’t matter.”
“What question?”
“Whether we’re done having children.”
“We decided six years ago.”
“You decided.”
I went still.
“No. We discussed it.”
“You said your body was done.”
“Yes.”
“You never asked what it meant to me.”
I almost laughed.
“I had nearly bled out after Lily.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly was I supposed to ask?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I wanted a son.”
There.
Clean.
Finally.
“I know that sounds terrible.”
“No. Wanting a son isn’t automatically terrible.”
He looked at me.
“Treating the daughters you have as consolation prizes is.”
“I don’t.”
“You agreed they shouldn’t celebrate because there’s no boy.”
“No. Mom said it badly.”
“She slapped Emma.”
“I said Mom was right about legacy.”
“What legacy?”
He looked toward his attorney.
No help.
Then:
“The company.”
“Your share can go to your daughters.”
“Technically.”
There.
I hated that word.
“What does technically mean?”
“They won’t keep the Sloan name forever.”
“Maybe they will.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Mark. Explain it.”
He exhaled.
“My dad built a company. I’m his son. I expected to pass it to a son.”
“And if you had three daughters?”
Silence.
There.
“So Emma and Lily were always secondary in your imagination.”
“No.”
“Then why not them?”
“They may not want it.”
“Neither does your hypothetical son, because he doesn’t exist.”
His attorney shifted slightly.
Mark stared at me.
Then house.
I placed the photocopies on table.
His face changed.
“Dad gave you those?”
“Yes.”
“That’s company-confidential.”
“The quitclaim deed to my house is not a company secret from me.”
He closed his eyes.
“It was a proposal.”
“Why didn’t you propose it?”
“I was going to.”
“When?”
“After Emma’s birthday.”
Of course.
“Why after?”
“Because we were already planning to talk about finances.”
“We were?”
He stopped.
Then:
“Mom pushed.”
“And you let her.”
“Yes.”
“What does ‘once deed is signed, stop asking permission’ mean?”
Mark stared at Diane’s note.
“I didn’t write that.”
“I know.”
“Mom gets dramatic.”
“Did you tell her to stop?”
“No.”
There.
Again.
Quiet agreement through no resistance.
Then I asked:
“Were you planning to divorce me?”
He snapped his head up.
“No.”
“Separate?”
“No.”
Too fast.
His lawyer looked at him.
Interesting.
I leaned back.
“Ask him again.”
His lawyer said:
“Mark.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“I had discussed taking space if we couldn’t resolve the house and family issues.”
There.
“How much space?”
“I don’t know.”
“After deed?”
May you like
Silence.
And suddenly the property documents felt different.
