It was the fact that my promotion gave me more money.
More independence.
More confidence.
More questions.
I walked back into the kitchen.
“Nathan told you I was planning to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Did he show you proof?”
“No.”
“Did you ask me?”
“No.”
“You just believed him.”
Margaret began crying.
“I thought I was protecting my son.”
I looked at her.
“You humiliated me because he was afraid I might discover what he had done.”
She covered her face.
I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt tired.
So tired that even anger seemed like work.
I went upstairs.
Nathan was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He looked exhausted.
I stood in the doorway.
“Did you tell your mother I was planning to leave you?”
He looked up.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“That you would find out.”
I nodded.
“At least you’re finally telling the truth.”
