Chapter 12 - Claire Asked Me the Question I Had Been Avoiding
Six months after the gala, Claire and I had dinner alone.
First time.
Not romantic.
The boys were at Joan's house.
We met because school schedules and legal meetings had consumed every conversation.
Halfway through dinner, Claire asked:
“Why didn't you come after me?”
“Nine years ago?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you wanted out.”
“I did.”
That surprised me.
She continued.
“I wanted out of what we had become.”
“Then why should I have followed?”
“To ask whether there was anything left.”
I looked down.
“You told me I had three years.”
“Yes.”
“I believed you were done.”
“I was.”
She paused.
“But part of me also wanted you to finally do something difficult without being instructed.”
That was painfully Claire.
“Unfair?”
“A little.”
“Human?”
“Also.”
Then she asked:
“Do you know what hurt most?”
“The apartment?”
“No.”
“My things?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You believed I would try to trap you with a baby.”
My stomach tightened.
“I was angry.”
“You knew me.”
“Yes.”
“I refused your condo.”
“Yes.”
“Your investments.”
“Yes.”
“Spousal support.”
“Yes.”
“And then somebody told you I was pregnant and your first thought was money?”
There was no defense.
“Yes.”
Claire's eyes filled.
“That was when I stopped trying.”
Not Sloane's letter.
Not Margaret.
Me.
A version of me filtered through other people, but still me.
I finally understood why discovering Margaret's manipulation would never produce reunion by itself.
My mother had destroyed trust.
I had failed Claire inside that destruction.
Both mattered.
Then I asked:
“Do you hate me?”
Claire thought.
“No.”
“Do you forgive me?”
Another pause.
“Some parts.”
I laughed softly.
“Fair.”
Then:
“Could you ever love me again?”
She stared at me for so long I regretted asking.
Finally:
May you like
“I don't know.”
That became the only answer I deserved.
