Page 137 of The Design of Goodbye
“I did,” he answered.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why’d she keep me? Why’d she stay?”
He set his mug on the floor and leaned back on his elbows. “Because I made a deal with her.”
“What kind of deal?” I asked, fearing the answer but needing to know.
“I wanted you to be happy and have a perfect family,” he said. “And, to me, at twenty-two, the perfect family meant both parents were married.”
I’d never met my dad’s parents. They’d had him young and never married. His mom had been flighty and irresponsible and his dad apathetic and harsh.
“So, you...”I trailed off, processing everything. “You bribed her to stay?”
He frowned. “I did.”
I thought of my mom. How she’d never done anything she didn’t want to. How she’d always refused to let people make decisions for her. It didn’t make sense.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “How’d you convince her?”
“At the time, it was easy,” he said. “We got pregnant soon after graduating college and then she lost the internship. She had no job. No money.Nothing. I used that to my advantage. I promised her she didn’t have to work. That, instead, she could focus on building her career. I promised I’d provide her anything she needed if we got married, and shestayed.” He shrugged. “It worked.”
I was devastated. Had my dad been married to someone for over seventeen years because he’d wanted me to have—what he believed was—a perfect family? Had he been unhappy this whole time because he cared about my happiness more than his?
“Then, why did she leave?” I asked. “Did your deal end?”
“No,” he said. “She left because she was jealous.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
I laughed dryly. “She was not.”
“She was,” he insisted. “You’re better at sewing. At designing. You’re a natural. Your mom never was.”
“But I’mnotgood at those things,” I said. “Mom said my sewing was terrible. That my ideas were boring and underwhelming. That’s why...”I trailed off, not sure I wanted to admit this. “That’s why I stopped sketching wedding dresses. She said I wasn’t—that I’d never succeed.”
“She said all that?” Two veins on his forehead appeared; he was furious.
“Uh, yeah?”
He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” I said, even though I kind of did. “She said she was honest because she wanted what was best for me, and I guess I convinced myself she was right.”
“She’s a liar,” he said. “She said those things to tear you down. To breakyou. Because all she ever cared about was herself.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, and glitter fell onto the burgundy rug. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I failed you. How did I not see what was going on? I knew she wasn’t emotionally involved, but I thought...I had no idea about the lies she was feeding you.”
“She was good at making us see what she wanted. I spent my whole life thinking she and I had a good relationship, but I didn’t know what a mother-daughter relationship should be like. I thought shelovedme.” My shoulders fell. “But she definitely didn’t.”
“But I do,” he said, and I smiled into my mug. “I love you more than anything. You know that, right?”
While I’d been terrified he’d leave me the last six months, had I’d never questioned his love for me? No. I hadn’t.
“I know you do,” I said. “Why do you think Mom waited so long to leave? She caught me sewing when I was eight. I was twelve when I decided to design clothes. She could’ve left years ago. What made her so jealous she couldn’t stay any longer?”
He finished his hot chocolate. “I think it was the Harbor Fashion Show. She couldn’t watch you design your own collection and become successful at the one thing that defined her.”
I wondered: if I hadn’t fallen in love with fashion design, would my mom have stayed? Would she have learned to love me?
