Chapter 13 - Emma Finally Stopped Mediating
My mother had spent most of her adult life preventing arguments.
She called it keeping the family together.
Michael called it being reasonable.
Tyler called it Mom doing Mom stuff.
I had called it suffocating.
Two months after the kitchen, Emma invited me to lunch.
Public restaurant.
No ambush.
No Tyler.
No Michael.
She sat down and said:
“I filed for separation.”
I looked at her.
“Because of me?”
Her expression hardened.
“No.”
Good.
She continued:
“Because Michael keeps asking me to explain him to you.”
I almost laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“He wants me to tell you what he meant.”
“With the gun?”
“With everything.”
I looked at her.
“And?”
“I told him I wasn't doing that anymore.”
Something in me loosened.
Emma took a sip of water.
“He says he panicked.”
“He did.”
“He says the handcuffs were procedure.”
“They weren't.”
“I know.”
“He says pushing the chair was an accident.”
“It wasn't.”
“I know.”
“He says he thought the response team proved you staged it.”
“That doesn't even make sense.”
“I know.”
She looked exhausted.
“Every explanation needs me to stand between what he did and what he wants it to mean.”
I said nothing.
Emma continued:
“I don't know whether I'm divorcing him.”
“Okay.”
“You don't have to say okay like you're approving it.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
She looked toward the window.
“Tyler asked if I regret marrying Michael.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
I expected more.
She didn't give it.
I smiled slightly.
“That was impressively short.”
“I'm practicing.”
We ate.
Halfway through, she asked:
“Do you regret leaving us?”
I put down my fork.
“Yes.”
She looked surprised.
“Not the career.”
“I know.”
“I regret letting distance become the only boundary I knew how to set.”
Emma's eyes filled.
I continued before she could turn it into reconciliation.
“I don't regret leaving some situations.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
“Don't use my word.”
She laughed.
It was the first normal sound between us in months.
Then she reached into her purse.
I tensed.
She noticed.
“No envelope.”
“Good.”
She showed me her phone.
A message from Michael.
Not for me.
For her.
I won't ask you to carry anything to Avery again.
That was all.
Emma locked the screen.
“He's moving into an apartment.”
“Okay.”
“His criminal case isn't resolved.”
“I know.”
“Tyler's either.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“You really aren't going to ask?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because they'll tell me when it becomes something I need to know.”
Emma leaned back.
“I wish we'd learned that before somebody knocked over a chair.”
I looked at her.
“So do I.”
When we left the restaurant, she hugged me.
I allowed it.
Not because the family was fixed.
May you like
Because I wanted my mother to hug me.
Those were finally allowed to be different things.
