Chapter 20 - HOW LONG?Gavin sat across from his wife.
Beatrice remained several feet away.
Tyler was still at school.
For once, Monica could not use him as the center of the argument.
“How long?”
She stared at the table.
“I don’t know.”
“Try.”
“Gavin.”
“How long have you been treating my mother this way?”
Monica cried.
“I never hit her.”
“That is not the question.”
“I never intentionally starved her.”
“That is not the question.”
“I was exhausted.”
“How long?”
“Maybe two months.”
Beatrice’s eyes closed.
Gavin saw.
“Longer?”
Monica looked toward her.
“Three.”
Gavin’s chest tightened.
“Since April?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember every credit-card payment.”
“That’s cruel.”
“No.”
His voice stayed steady.
“What was cruel was telling a woman recovering from a stroke that you wished she would die.”
Monica covered her face.
“I said it once.”
Gavin looked toward Beatrice.
“Once?”
Beatrice’s eyes moved to NO.
Monica saw.
Her crying changed.
Panic.
“Beatrice—”
“Do not ask her to protect you.”
Monica stared at Gavin.
“I wasn’t asking—”
“You’ve been relying on her inability to speak.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He opened the financial records.
“You canceled professional help.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You took the money.”
“I borrowed it.”
“You lied.”
“I was scared.”
“You left her without meals.”
“She refused!”
Beatrice looked at NO.
Gavin pointed at the board.
“Mom.”
Beatrice focused.
“Did you refuse food as often as Monica told me?”
NO.
“Did you sometimes refuse?”
YES.
He nodded.
Fair.
“Did Monica sometimes stop feeding you before you were full?”
YES.
Monica sobbed.
“Because meals took an hour!”
Gavin turned toward her.
“Then you call me.”
“You were never here!”
“Then call the agency.”
“We couldn’t afford—”
“We could.”
“You don’t know!”
“I know exactly what we could afford.”
“You don’t know what it felt like!”
Gavin stopped.
There it was.
The real truth.
“No.”
He nodded slowly.
“I don’t.”
Monica stared.
“I should have been here.”
His voice shifted.
“I should have taken leave. I should have managed her care. I should not have made you the default caregiver because you were home more.”
Monica’s crying quieted.
For one second she seemed relieved.
Then Gavin continued.
“That is my failure.”
He looked at her.
“It is not your excuse.”
Her face crumpled.
“You were allowed to be exhausted.”
He leaned forward.
“You were allowed to hate every second of caregiving.”
His voice cracked for the first time.
“You were allowed to tell me you could not do it anymore.”
He pointed toward Beatrice.
“You were never allowed to make my mother pay for our failures.”
Monica stared at the floor.
“I’m sorry.”
Gavin looked at Beatrice.
“Not to me.”
Monica slowly turned.
Beatrice watched her.
Monica whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Beatrice’s expression did not change.
Monica waited.
No forgiveness came.
Gavin stood.
“You’re leaving tonight.”
Monica’s head snapped up.
“What?”
“Temporarily.”
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m making sure Mom is safe while we decide what happens next.”
“Tyler?”
“He stays here tonight.”
“You can’t take my son.”
“I’m not.”
He remained calm.
“You can speak with him. We will arrange appropriate time. But you are not staying here with Mom.”
Monica’s face twisted.
“After twelve years of marriage?”
“After three months of this.”
She stared at him.
May you like
And for the first time, Monica finally faced something Beatrice had faced every day since her stroke.
A decision she could not control.
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