An hour earlier, she had asked me what I had done to make him leave.
Now Eric was the one searching for a defense.
“Mom, you don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
“I was miserable.”
“So you left.”
“Yes.”
“And you started seeing someone else before you left?”
The silence that followed was different.
I knew that silence.
It was the one Eric used when he wanted time to find language that sounded less ugly than the truth.
Diane waited.
Finally he said, “It didn’t happen the way she’s making it sound.”
Diane glanced at me.
“She told me you were seeing someone before you moved out.
Is that false?”
He did not answer.
“Eric?”
“I’m not doing this.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, Diane remained seated with the phone in her hand.
No one spoke.
Ruby’s block tower tipped over with a plastic clatter.
She frowned at it and immediately began rebuilding.
Diane stared at the dark phone screen.
Then she looked at the printed message again.
I expected another defense.
Maybe she would say he was emotional.
Maybe she would tell me he needed time.
Maybe she would insist there were two sides to every marriage.
Instead, she asked quietly, “How long have you been doing this alone?”
The question nearly broke through every wall I had built that afternoon.
“Three weeks since he physically left,” I said.
“Longer than that in every way that mattered.”
Diane lowered her eyes.
I hated how tired my voice sounded.
“I’m not telling you that because I want you to hate your son,” I continued.
“He’s still their father.
He’s still your son.
I’m telling you because I will not accept being blamed for his choices.”
Diane folded the paper along an existing crease, then opened it again.
“I did blame you.”
“Yes.”
“I walked in here and did exactly that.”
“Yes.”
She flinched slightly at the second answer.
I did not rescue her from it.
For years I had watched everyone smooth things over for Eric.
If he forgot something, he was busy.
If he came late, work was demanding.
If he withdrew, he was stressed.
There was always an explanation waiting before he ever needed to provide one himself.
I no longer had the strength to participate in that ritual.
Diane looked around the room again.
This time she did not seem to be evaluating the mess.
She saw the half-folded laundry.
