“Mom, please. Just promise me you won’t deny what people are saying. Can you just do that for me?”
"The way you talk, it's as if I were a terrible mother. I'vealwaysdone everything for you, Evelyn. It's ungrateful of you not to acknowledge that. Fine. If that's what you want, I'll let people say whatever they want. Is that good enough for you?"
"That's perfect, Mom. I really appreciate it."
"But this won't work on everyone. Peter, for example, knows this whole story is a lie."
"What do you mean? You've been talking to Peter?"
"He's not like you, Evelyn. Even though he's not my son, he calls every week to check on your father and me."
"And you've been discussing me?"
"Of course we have! The poor man is still devastated by the way you ended things. He told me you even physically assaulted him. I did not raise you to behave that way, Evelyn. What is happening to you?"
"I told you I had my reasons for breaking up with him. I even told you he used my credit cards and left me in debt!"
"He explained all of that. He didn'tleaveyou in debt, Evelyn. He intended to pay you back! In a couple, you're supposed to be together for richer or for poorer. That's how it works."
"He ran up debts in my name without my knowledge!"
"He was probably just too embarrassed to ask to use the cards, Evelyn. You know how men are. He'sjust going through a rough patch. He would have gotten back on his feet and paid everything back."
I couldn't believe she was defending him. If she couldn't even understand the one part of the story I had the courage to tell—the part that was easiest to prove—I would never dare try to make her understand the rest. The real, complicated truth.
The truth I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone was that I had been in an abusive relationship. Not physically—Peter never hit me. But he was pathologically jealous, controlling, manipulative, and vicious with his words. He constantly belittled me and made me feel worthless. I only found out about the cheating after we broke up; while we were together, any suspicion I raised was twisted to make me look like a "paranoid freak." Our fights always ended with me apologizing, convinced I was the one who was wrong.
"I was unhappy with him, Mom," I summarized, the words feeling utterly inadequate.
"Well, Evelyn, do you think anyone is happy all the time?"
"I wasneverhappy with him."
"A good woman stands by her man, no matter what. I know you weren't formally married, but if you lived together, you were married in the eyes of God. Maybe if you'd listened to me and had a child, things would have settled down."
I would never bring a child into the world to save a relationship. That was a special kind of stupid. But I knew there was no point in arguing.
"Anyway," she continued, "I won't deny it if anyone asks me about you being the mother of those girls. Maybe being around children will spark your maternal instincts and you'll finally decide to give me grandchildren. Peter loves you so much, he might even forgive you for this. After all, it stands to reason that a gorgeous millionaire like Logan Turner wouldn't have any real involvement with someone like you. You're a pretty girl, but you're not like those rich celebrities who—"
"Goodnight, Mom," I cut her off, ending the call.
When I looked up, I found Aurora standing in the kitchen doorway. She looked at me and signed a single word:"Thirsty."
I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. As I handed it to her, I asked, "Couldn't sleep?" I repeated the question with my hands.
She nodded. I asked if she'd had a nightmare, and she nodded again. I waited for her to finish drinking, took the glass, and set it in the sink. Before I could ask about the nightmare, Rory was quicker. She asked me why I was mad.
"I'm not mad. What made you think that?" She made the sign for"phone,"and I understood. "Oh... Iwasn't exactly mad. I think I was a little sad. The person who called is someone who's always arguing with me."
She signed again, asking if it was my mother. I wasn't surprised; she must have read my lips.
"Yes, it was my mother."
She told me, through her small, deliberate gestures, not to be sad. The request made me smile, but that smile faded when I saw the sorrow in her own eyes.
This felt like a chance to learn a little about her and her sister.
"And your mom, Rory?" I asked, my voice soft and my hands moving. "What is she like? Did you argue with her a lot?"
