“Tom trusted him. I can trust him, too.”
“Is he going to tell Lily about this?”
Diana considers her sister’s question. “He promised to keep this confidential. I assume he won’t tell Lily, but I didn’t ask that specifically.”
“I never liked her,” Andrea says, her voice bitter. “She’s shallow and materialistic.”
“Andrea,” Vivian interrupts, “this isn’t the time to discuss Lily Hobart.”
“Fine.” Andrea reads the letter again, her fingers bending the page, making Diana twitch. “But Tom was on a lot of pain meds in those last days. Maybe it’s not true. Maybe it was a hallucination.”
If she hadn’t met Grace or talked to Chris, Diana might have agreed with Andrea, but she’s learned too much to discount Tom’s message.
Andrea continues, “On the other hand, chalking this up to pain meds is a kind response. It could be Tom was an asshole. Leaving you this letter to find like that? It’s a sucker punch. Cruel, even.”
“Andrea!” Vivian says.
“He wasn’t a cruel person,” Diana says, pained she has to defend Tom. “You know that.”
“Do I?” Andrea waves the letter in the air, pointing to the longest paragraph. “What’s all this crap about this being your fault? It’s ridiculous.”
The passage in question has kept Diana awake nearly every night since she found the letter. The words are among the worst:If we had been different people, or maybe if our relationship had been different, I might have told you all this sooner. I tried, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Would you have been disappointed in me? Or angry? How could you trust me for lying to you for our entire relationship? For so long, I blamed you for my inability to come clean. I saw you as the obstacle to being truthful when it clearly was me. I’m sorry for so much.
“Why the cloak and dagger?” Andrea says, dropping the letter onto the coffee table. “Why is he so evasive? He’s telling you something bad happened, but not what the something bad is. That’s designed to dig its hook into you and keep you in place.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Diana says, though it’s difficult to understand what those reasons might be. She stalks around the room, avoiding eye contact with her mother and sister and replaying Andrea’s words:Leaving you this letter to find like that? It’s a sucker punch. Cruel, even.Diana feels raw, as if the bandage she carefully placed over the wound left by Tom’s death has been ripped off without her permission. She stops at the French doors leading to the deck. The darkness outside and light inside make it impossible for her to see anything other than her own reflection, rippled and dim.
“You’re a lot like him, acting secretive, hiding this from us,” Andrea says.
Diana wipes tears from her face. How is it that they still come? It’s impossible she can still produce them, that her body isn’t worn out from all the crying.
“Andie, so much of my life these past few years has been controlled by others,” she says, still looking at her reflection. “By doctors, nurses, Tom, the kids. By you, Mom, and Dad. There was a time, after Tom died, when I needed you to take care of me, to get me out of bed and make me shower, to get me to work on time and remind me how to function in the world.” She chokes out the words. “That’s not who I am anymore. This ismystory,my life. It’s not yours to live.”
Andrea comes to Diana’s side and tries to embrace her, but Diana holds up a hand as if to stop her sister. “Don’t touch me,” she says, her voice brimming with hurt.
Her rejection flickers across Andrea’s face. “You’re right. We have been doing all of that these past few years,” her sister says, “living your life, taking care of you and your family. You’ve been everyone’s priority.”
“That’s not true,” Vivian says.
“It is. It’salwaysDiana first.”
“Andrea, your father and I love you both equally,” Vivian says. “We support you both, we care for you both. Where is this coming from?”
“Diana sucks all your time. Your decisions revolve around her.”
“Your sister has been through a terrible loss—”
“It’s been eighteen months, Mom. I thought it was getting better, that maybe Diana’s emotional well-being wouldn’t continue to be the engine that fuels this family.”
Diana turns around. “You can’t talk to Mom like this. Or me.”
“I’m done with my life being determined by your grief, Diana,” Andrea whispers. “I know what I’m saying is harsh, and I’m sorry for that.” Andrea reaches for her again, but Diana steps back. Her sister’s voice rises in response. “You need to get rid of the delusion Tom was such a perfect guy. For God’s sake, he says in that letter that you’re the reason he never spoke about what he did.That’s cruel.Leaving you a message like that—which is consuming your life—is such a Tom move.”
“Such a Tom move?”
“Diana, can’t you see? Everything was about him. You catered to him. His needs, his wants, his preferences. And this family went along. No one else’s opinion mattered.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
