Chapter 12 - The Difference Between Explaining And Excusing
Grandma Ruth came to our house the next afternoon.
She held Lily for a long time without commenting on her size once.
That alone nearly made me cry.
"Tell me about Grandpa," I said.
Ruth's face tightened.
"Leonard could be charming in public. At home, he believed criticism built character."
"Did he talk to Mom the way she talks to me?"
"Worse sometimes."
I looked down.
Part of me hated hearing that.
"Understanding is not the same as excusing," she said.
I looked up.
"That's exactly what your letter said."
"Because I learned it too late."
She told me Grandpa controlled Mom's clothes, friends, college choices. He mocked her weight. He read her mail. When she cried, he called her dramatic.
"Why didn't you stop him?"
Ruth's eyes filled.
"Because I was afraid of him too."
"And when he died," she continued, "your mother promised she would never be powerless again. I think somewhere along the way, she confused power with control."
I thought about the folder.
The attorney letter.
"She became him."
Ruth shook her head. "Not completely. People are more complicated than that. But she repeats things she once hated."
I imagined her at ten.
Sixteen.
Thirty-four.
I imagined myself making a cutting remark and calling it honesty.
The pattern ends with me.
At 11:43 p.m., an email arrived from Dad.
No subject.
Just four words in the body.
Your mother left home.
May you like
Below them was a second line.
I don't know where she is.
