“And I think it was really more of an omission than a lie.”
“If you’d told me that you were doing a good deed and you needed my help, I would have said yes.”
“Probably.” His smile is a far gentler version than I’m used to. “But where’s the fun in that?”
I know I should give him some shit. Tell him how and why I object to the manipulation.
But even as I consider what I might say, I accept the fact that today was not at all about me.
“Let’s just say your plan worked. And I’m going to forgive you this one time. Because I understand where Yvonne is coming from. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do to help my daughter make the right choices. And Isaiah has the makings of a great athlete.”
“That’s very . . . big . . . of you,” he concedes with a far more familiar tone.
“Yes, it is,” I reply, glad to be back on familiar footing. “But there’s a price to be paid for tricking me into something that I would have done gladly if only you’d treated me like a colleague rather than a mark.”
“And what would that price be?” His eyes are on my face. A smile tugs at his lips.
“When Isaiah signs with StarSports Advisors, he belongs to me. You will keep your thoughts about how he should be handled to yourself.”
His smile grows. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says. “Besides, before we left, Yvonne told me that she already likes you better than she ever liked me.”
Twenty-Two
Sara
The day Mitchell is served with divorce papers, he does something he hasn’t done since taking the job in Birmingham. He braves Atlanta traffic on a weekday afternoon.
When I get home from work and see his car in the driveway, I gird my loins. (A phrase whose origin I’m going to have to look up.) I find him at the kitchen table with his mother, an untouched sandwich in front of him.
Mother and son look up when I enter. Mitch glares at me. Dorothy appears nervous with a possible side of guilt. I can’t tell whether they’ve been arguing with each other or plotting against me.
“I got served with divorce papers today. In front of a new client. Without warning,” Mitch says, his eyes narrow.
“How horrible for you,” I reply, with every ounce of sarcasm I can muster. In the past, I would have been careful not to upset Mitch or argue in front of Dorothy, but in this moment all I can think about is the indignity and injustice I’ve suffered. “But then I don’t remember you warning me that I might hear from your secret son on your secret cell phone. And you clearly never gave a thought to what you were doing to me. How you were trampling all over our vows.”
“This is not the time for recriminations,” Mitchell says.
“Oh, I don’t know. This seems like a perfect time for recriminations. Did you honestly believe I would just sit here and take it once I knew you were building a family with another woman?”
“She tricked me. She told me she couldn’t have children. That she’d had some illness when she was a child that made her infertile.” He actually looks indignant.
“Oh. So this was all her fault?”
“No. No, of course not. I just want you to know that I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.”
“Yes, you keep saying that. But it no longer matters what you did or didn’t intend. Or that she somehow managed to ‘trick’ you twice. Because for at least a third of our marriage, you’ve been sleeping with another woman.” My voice breaks, and it occurs to me that I’m making a scene, something I’ve avoided for most of my life.
“But I’m so unhappy. Things got away from me.” He sounds like a teenage boy trying to justify how he totaled the car.
“You, more than anyone, knew how much I wanted children. Yet you refused and then went off and impregnated someone else. Twice. You gave her the children I begged for. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?”
“But I didn’t want children. I don’t . . . I saw what it took for my mother to raise me, everything she gave up, how small her life became. And I never wanted that kind of responsibility. Not any of it.”
Dorothy gasps.
My eyes remain on Mitchell. “And stupid, responsible me respected your feelings.”
Dorothy pulls herself to her feet, leaning on the table for support. “When your father deserted us, I swore you’d never want for anything. That I’d make it up to you.”
“But . . . you told me you didn’t know who my father was.” Mitchell stares accusingly at his mother.
“I said that so that you wouldn’t feel abandoned.” She exhales heavily. “Do you really know me so little that you believed I had no idea who fathered my child?
“I have loved you and protected you from the moment I realized I was carrying you. Yes, I put you before everything else. Yes, I lived a life that wasn’t what it might have been. No one made me do that. I did it out of love.” She shakes her head in wonder. “And all you took from that was to never give that much of yourself to anyone?”
I’m frozen in place as this woman, who has always been so guarded, spills out her lies and her truths.
“I know I’m not warm or fuzzy. Neither were my parents. But I never doubted that they loved me. I could tell by their actions if not their words. But you have not learned any of the subtlety of love. Or bothered to look deeper than the very surface.” She moves closer, looming over him.
“You’re a grown man, but you still behave like a child. Making excuses for what you’ve done instead of making up for your bad deeds and behavior. And now you expect the wife you’ve cheated on and stolen from, and who has taken in the mother you’ve left homeless, to go easy on you? To be careful of you while you moan and complain about the children you’ve fathered and don’t want to be responsible for?”
She takes a deep shuddering breath. Her hand trembles on the table. “Shame on you. And shame on me for allowing you to turn into the selfish, self-centered person you’ve become.”
She turns to face me, her face bleak. “You were right that day when you said that my son isn’t good enough for you. And it’s clear I’m not going to be winning any ‘mother of the year’ awards. I was wrong to treat you the way I did, trying to somehow keep his affection, what there was of it, to myself. Horribly wrong.”
I’m too shocked by her apology to respond.
“I’ve turned a blind eye because he has always been all that I had.” She takes another deep breath. “I owe you an apology, Sara. And my gratitude.