Chapter 17 - MOM’S VERSION OF FAMILY
Mom requested a meeting with me.
I refused home.
We met in Martin’s conference room.
Lawyers present.
She looked smaller without her dining-room authority.
“I never hated Noah.”
I said nothing.
“I love him.”
“You took juice from his hands.”
Her eyes filled.
“You’re making that one moment into everything.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“I’m realizing everything made that moment.”
She looked away.
“Why treat him differently?”
“Sarah.”
“No.”
“Her instability affected all of us.”
“Noah was two.”
“She could relapse.”
“What does that have to do with whether he gets apple juice?”
Mom’s mouth opened.
Nothing.
“Try again.”
She whispered:
“Lauren needed more.”
“Then say that.”
“She had twins.”
“I was a single father.”
“You earned more.”
“There.”
Money again.
“You decided because I was competent, Noah required less.”
Mom cried.
“I thought you could handle it.”
I sat back.
For years, that sentence had sounded like praise.
Now I heard the invoice hidden inside it.
You can handle it.
So you get less.
You pay more.
May you like
You carry everyone.
And when your child notices, call it character-building.
