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Nervously, Corinne tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “Don’t you think it’s more important to focus on the present? Andrew and Benny will be here soon, and then you can meet them. That’s what you want, right?”
I sigh. On my way here, I was hoping she’d own up to her past mistakes. But no, she’s trying to bury them, and she has the audacity to think I’ll go along with it.
“Did you know she had cancer?” I ask.
Corinne frowns. “Who?”
“The woman Richard was married to while he was fucking you behind her back,” I say flatly. “My mother. She was dying, and Richard was supposed to be there for her, but he abandoned her when she needed him the most. I won’t ask again. Did. you. know?”
She swallows, and her lack of an answer is all I need.
She’s just as much of a monster as he is.
“Do you at least feel guilty?”
“I—” Her voice falters, so she tries again. “Your father was lonely. You and your mother were a huge weight on his shoulders. And then Sammy came along, and Richard only felt more trapped.”
“So you think he was justified in abandoning us.”
“What? I—no,I just—” She throws her hands up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? My husband justdied,and now you’re in here accusing me of what? Being the reason he cheated? That’s not my fault!”
“No, but you could’ve done what any decent person would’ve done,” I growl. “You could’ve told him to go back home to his family.”
“He was unhappy! Your mother—”
“Do you even know her name?” I spit out.
“Of course I do.” But her voice gets higher pitched, and she shifts her eyes away from me.
“Then say it.”
She opens her mouth, but then she closes it. Desperation fills her features, and finally, her shoulders sag. “I forgot.”
My jaw clenches. Maybe it’s better this way. I don’t want to hear this woman speak my mother’s name, anyway.
“Look, I—”
“I hope you hate yourself.” My voice is so calm, so nonchalant, that I have to hide my surprise. I feel oddly detached, like I’m watching this conversation instead of participating in it. Maybe it’s because I know that no matter what, I have to accept that this woman is part of my life now.
Her head jerks back like I just slapped her. “That’s it. I’ve had enough. Get—”
“Do you know how Sammy died?” I ask, not caring what she wants. Not one bit.
“Wrong place, wrong time.” She shifts nervously. “She was shot.”
“And why was she in thatwrong placeat thewrong time?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t?” I ask. “Or do you just not want to admit that he was with you when he should’ve been picking up his daughter from school?”
She swallows, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t deserve the life you have,” I grit out, “and you definitely don’t deserve your children.”
