He wasn’t afraid. “What’re you going to do, Jennifer?" He laughed. "Fucking stab me?”
She didn't move. "Try touching one of them again and we'll find out."
Mom snapped her fingers at Jamie. “Get your sister and go to your room. Now.”
Jamie scurried across the floor to me. I hesitated.
“Girls.Now.”
My mom didn’t use that tone. Not ever. It unfroze me. Jamie grabbed my hand and we ran to her room, slamming the door and locking it behind us.
He was gone an hour later. There was door slamming and yelling. He said a lot of bad things. Our mom mostly cried and told him he was a terrible man and she hated him.
He told her to go fuck herself because he hated her, and us, and didn’t give a fuck what she thought.
And we haven’t seen him since he slammed out that door.
I’m so caught up in the memory that I don’t hear the bedroom door open. Only the sound of mom’s gasp announces that she’s here.
“Where did that come from?” she asks.
Her face has gone pale and her finger shakes a bit as she points to the wedding album.
“I did it,” I confess, so she knows it was me and not Jamie. “It was in the trash and I was curious.”
My mom doesn’t get angry. Not really. She deflates. But she looks determined as she walks to us and gestures to the wedding album.
“Girls. I know you’re curious. And I know this has all been a lot for you. But this… this book is an anchor and I won’t have it in my house. If you must, you can keep it in the shed in the yard. But I never want to see it. Not ever. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Mommy,” Jamie and I answer in unison.
She nods, like she’s satisfied. “Put it in a trash bag so it doesn’t get eaten by mice out there and take it out in the morning. I'll buy you a plastic bin for long term storage.”
We nod. But as she turns to leave, Jamie says “Mommy?”
Mom stops but doesn’t turn around. “Yes?”
“You and Daddy. You look happy here. I never saw daddy like this. Why did he change?”
Mom's entire body seems to freeze. For several seconds, she says nothing. When she turns to look at us, her expression is fierce.
"He didn't change." The way she says it is so sharp it gives me goosebumps. "That man in those photos never existed. He was a character your father played. An illusion. A lie he told so well I believed it."
"Like his name isn't really Michael?" I ask, confused.
"No, honey." She crouches down so she's at eye level with us, and I can see tears in her eyes. "I mean he showed me a version of himself that wasn't real. A public face. The man who danced with me at our wedding, who smiled in these pictures—that was the performance. But the private version, the one who screamed at you and hit you and walked away without looking back, the man who cheated and lied and stole, that's who he really is."
She reaches out and touches the wedding album, her finger trembling against the cover.
"Today I found out your father has a son. A baby boy named Michael. With someone else. He's handing out cigars." Her voice cracks. "He's acting like he has time for this child. Like he wanted this child. He acted like that about both of you once. But he couldn't be bothered to call you girls even once in six months. Do you understand what that means?"
Jamie and I are both crying now. "No, Mommy."
"It means the illusion only works when he wants it to. When it serves him. And the moment it doesn't, he drops it and walks away." She wipes her eyes roughly. "I fell for the lie because I wanted to believe it. Because it was so beautiful. But it was never real. And by the time I realized he was a monster, it was too late. I was trapped inside the lie. I couldn't see a way out and he wouldn't leave for so, so long."
She grips both our shoulders, her fingers tight.
"Girls, listen to me. Never make my mistake. Pay attention to the signs. Trust your gut. There are more bad men than good, and they'reverygood at pretending. Don't ever wind up like me, choking on regret because you ignored the signs. Find men who know how to be supportive. Who are mature enough to love people other than themselves."
