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I grieve theideaof Patrick, but not the actual man—because that guy? I never met him.
I want California to feel like a new start... but to be honest, I still feel adrift. I could apply to another giving department—there are certainly enough universities around here—but my heart isn’t in it. I don’t care about snaring wealthy people and squeezing money out of them. All I can think of is the secrets that new university might have. Lies, betrayals, bad behavior, cover-ups. It was human nature to conceal.
So mostly, I just go to yoga. I cook elaborate meals for my kids on weekends—Sienna has transferred to UCLA, but she lives at home. I try to talk with her about what went on between her and Greg, but it’s more useful in front of a therapist. From what I’ve gotten out of her, Greg’s flirtation started out innocently enough notlong after we married. She didn’t really see him as herfamily member—more like my boyfriend, and often not even that.They started e-mailing, but Sienna felt weird about using her regular account, so she opened another one, using two characters from books she’d recently read as her handle. She hadn’t meant it as anything, she said, though in the words of Freud, there are no accidents.
Greg’s flirtation was flattering, but then, as it began to get more sexual, Sienna started to feel trapped. She didn’t want to do the things Greg was asking her to do—the MRI machine and all that—but at the same time who could she talk to about it? Greg’s e-mails implied that if Siennadidtell, he’d twist things around and make her out to be the instigator. Why he thought I’d choose to believe him over my daughter, I don’t know. Then again, I was in the throes of love—of Greg, and of my new life. WhatwouldI have done?
But then, about a month and a half before Greg died, Sienna had enough. She was interested in Anton; she wanted to go into the relationship with a clean conscience. I remember her talking about him—and Greg asking her a lot of questions about Anton. At the time, I’d appreciated his interest. Now I see it another way.
She’d told Greg her decision to stop what they were doing, in person, in the kitchen one night when I was at a dinner. Greg replied by telling her how special she was, how beautiful. He’d come toward her, touching her leg—that was what Aurora had seen. But what Aurora didn’t see: Moments later, Sienna pulled away. Said Greg couldn’t touch her like that anymore.
Greg retaliated by icing her out—especially on that Barbados vacation. Sothatexplained his mood, anyway. How annoyed he’d been at Sienna’s peppy attitude. It also could explain why he’d rebuffed me when I’d suggested—once again—that we try therapy. Greg was rejecting me because Sienna rejected him. Maybe he was done with all of us.
But it got worse. After that trip, Greg threatened to take away Sienna’s college tuition, to take away her car, her nice clothes, todrive a wedge between her and me. He said once again that he’d spin things so that she was the one who looked guilty—after all, he had lots of e-mails to prove it. Sienna’s last e-mails to Greg pleaded with him to put things back the way they used to be, not because she wanted the relationship to continue, but because she needed to be back in his good graces.
This had occurred only a few weeks before the hack. Right around that time, Aurora had noticed how on edge Sienna seemed, and she brought up how she caught Greg touching her, expressing that she was pissed that Sienna had just stood there, unresponsive. “Are youintohim?” she’d asked, disgusted. Something in Sienna’s behavior must have given her away, and Aurora drew some damning conclusions. When the e-mails were leaked in the hack and Aurora read them, she was horrified—but she had an inside track to exactly what was going on. This man, her stepfather, was a predator. She needed to stop him from doing this to her older sister.
And that was that.
How do I feel about this, now that I know? Like I’ve failed as a mother for not giving my daughter better guidance about flirtation, appropriate touch, crossed boundaries—even with a family member you’re supposed to trust. I hate that Sienna was afraid of what Greg might take away, even for a moment—because I understand wanting things. But would it have been that big a deal? She always would have gone to college—my father would have made sure of it. But kids learn from their parents, don’t they? Maybe Sienna coveted those things becauseIdid. And maybe, if I hadn’t been so caught up in what I had or how I looked to others, perhaps Sienna would have been brave enough to come to me about what Greg was doing, no matter the consequences.
And there’s a part of me that deeply admires Aurora. I want to think I would have sought vengeance for Willa, back in the day, had I known of what happened at that frat house. This alone restores my faith that maybe I have done something right as a parent. The thingthat matters most is standing up for the people we love. And for that, I’m glad Aurora was there when my father volunteered to take the blame for her. Alfred Manning’s public reputation was tarnished for the ages, but in my family’s heart, he’s golden. A martyr. A hero.
Far out at sea, my sister and daughters bob like sleek, black seals. The sun hides behind the cloud, giving the air a welcome bite. I get a burst of optimism so pure and unexpected that I almost laugh. Not long ago, I used to be consumed with how people saw me... and I did everything possible to remain that person. But these days, after the hack, the murder, the rumors, my arrest, my father’s choice—I have no idea what people think of me anymore. Terrible things, probably. I imagine the country club all atwitter—and the people at my job, and all my old clients. And Lynn Godfrey? She’s probably pleased as punch. All those people who gossiped when Greg and I got together. All those people who criticized my father’s reign over Aldrich. People who didn’t like me, and people who did—I’m forever changed in their minds.
But you know what? I don’t care.
Maybe the best reputation is no reputation. Maybe it’s best not to care whatsoever how people see you. Maybe the only thing that really matters is how you see yourself.
