Heart of the Matter - Emily Giffin [38]
I clear my throat, then tentatively ask for confirmation of something I’ve always suspected. “Were there other affairs? Before her?” I say, referring to my dad’s wife, Diane, knowing my mother hates hearing her name. I truly believe that she is finally over my father and the pain of her divorce, but for some reason, she says she will never forgive the “other woman,” fiercely believing that all women are in a sisterhood together, owing one another the integrity that men, in her mind, seem to innately lack.
She gives me a long, serious look, as if debating whether to divulge a secret. “Yes,” she finally says. “At least two others that I know of.”
I swallow and nod.
“He confessed to those, came completely clean. Broke down, tears and all, and swore he’d never do it again.”
“And you forgave him?”
“The first time, yes. I did completely. The second time, I went through the motions, but never felt the same about him. I never really trusted him again. I always had a sick feeling in my stomach as I searched for lipstick on his collar or looked for phone numbers in his wallet. I felt cheapened because of it. Because of him . . . I think I always knew he would do it again . . .” Her voice trails off, a faraway look in her eye.
I feel the urge to reach out and hug her, but instead ask another hard question. “Do you think it’s made you . . . distrust all men?”
“Maybe,” she says, glancing nervously toward the stairs as if worried that Nick or Dex will catch her bad-mouthing their gender. She drops her voice to a whisper. “And maybe that’s also why I was so upset with your brother . . . when he broke his first engagement.”
It is another first, as I had no idea my mother suspected any infidelity—or that she was ever upset with Dex about anything. “At least he wasn’t married,” I say.
“Right. That’s what I told myself. And I couldn’t stand that Darcy,” she says, referring to Dex’s old girlfriend. “So the result was good.”
I start to say something else, but then stop myself.
“Go ahead,” my mother says.
I hesitate again and then say, “Do you trust Nick?”
“Do you trust Nick?” she shoots back. “That is the more important question.”
“I do, Mom,” I say, putting my fist over my heart. “I know he’s not perfect.”
“Nobody is,” she says, the way gospel preachers say amen.
“And I know our marriage isn’t perfect,” I say, thinking of our rocky start last night.
“No marriage is,” she says, shaking her head.
Amen.
“But he would never cheat on me.”
My mother gives me a look, one that I would ordinarily construe as overbearing, but in the gauzy, golden light of dawn, I take only as maternal concern.
She reaches out and covers my hand with hers. “Nick’s a good man,” she says. “He really is ... But the one thing I’ve learned in life is that you can never say never.”
I wait for her to say more as I hear Frank call my name from the top of the stairs, breaking our intimate spell.
“And in the end,” she says, ignoring her grandson’s escalating calls, sitting so peacefully that it is as if she doesn’t hear him, “all you really have is yourself.”
10
Valerie
Just after dark on Saturday, Jason shows up at the hospital with microwave popcorn, two boxes of Jujubes, and several PG-rated movies.
“I love Jujubes!” Valerie says, a preemptive strike against what her brother has been threatening for days.
Jason shakes his head and says, “It’s boys’ night.”
Valerie grips the arms of her rocker, reminded of the frantic way she used to feel playing musical chairs. “You always say I’m one of the boys,” she says.
“Not tonight. Charlie and I are having a sleepover. No girls allowed. Right, Charlie?”
“Right,” Charlie says, grinning at his uncle as they touch fists, a left-handed, knuckle-bump handshake.
Valerie, who was stir-crazy just moments before, wondering what she and Charlie would do all evening, now feels a rising panic at the prospect of their separating. She has left the hospital for a few hours here and there, to pick up takeout or run a quick errand. One afternoon, she even returned home to do a few loads