Chapter 5 - Tristan Finally Told the Truth
“Go upstairs,” Zachary said.
Tristan didn’t move.
“Dad, answer me.”
“I said upstairs.”
“No.”
It was the first time I had ever heard Tristan openly defy him.
Diane stepped in.
“Tristan, sweetheart, none of this is your concern.”
“Yes, it is!”
His voice cracked.
Everyone froze.
Tristan looked at me.
Then Chloe.
“I told Grandma about the chicken.”
Diane interrupted.
“Because Charlotte stole food from you.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Diane stared at him.
“What?”
Tristan swallowed.
“I said I was full.”
Zachary’s face changed.
Tristan continued.
“Chloe waited. Then she took it.”
“Then why did you say you still wanted it?” Zachary asked.
The boy looked at the floor.
“Because I changed my mind.”
“And you let everyone blame Charlotte?”
Tristan’s eyes filled.
“Because you always do.”
Nobody moved.
“What does that mean?” Zachary asked.
Tristan wiped his face angrily.
“Whenever I complain about Charlotte, everybody takes my side.”
“That’s because—”
“Grandma says she stole you from Mom.”
Diane went pale.
“Tristan.”
“She does!”
He pointed toward his grandmother.
“She says if Charlotte wasn’t here, maybe Mom would come back.”
Zachary slowly turned toward Diane.
“You told him that?”
“I said perhaps things would have been different.”
“You told my son his stepmother was keeping his parents apart?”
Diane folded her arms.
“Rebecca was better suited to this family.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“Please stop using my name to justify this.”
Rebecca.
She had arrived to pick up Tristan.
Diane looked stunned.
Rebecca walked inside.
“I am not coming back to Zachary.”
Tristan’s face crumpled.
“Ever?”
Rebecca walked to him.
“No, honey.”
“But Grandma—”
“Grandma was wrong.”
Diane bristled.
“Rebecca—”
“No.”
Rebecca’s voice sharpened.
“You don’t get to do this anymore.”
She crouched in front of Tristan.
“Your dad and I divorced because our marriage didn’t work. Charlotte had nothing to do with it. She didn’t steal your father.”
Tristan stared at her.
“Then why did everybody say—”
“Because adults sometimes say selfish things.”
He started crying.
Not the dramatic tears he used when he wanted something.
Real tears.
“I was horrible to her.”
Rebecca looked at me.
I didn’t know what she expected.
I walked over.
Tristan stepped backward.
“You hate me.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“You’re thirteen.”
“So?”
“So you made bad choices.”
I glanced at the adults around us.
“But you didn’t create this situation alone.”
His lips trembled.
“I called you mean.”
“Yes.”
“I laughed when Chloe cried.”
“Yes.”
He looked at Chloe.
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe peeked over my shoulder.
“For the chicken?”
“For everything.”
She considered this with four-year-old seriousness.
“Okay.”
Then she added, “But don’t take my food again.”
Rebecca covered her mouth, hiding a smile.
Even I almost laughed.
Tristan nodded.
“Okay.”
Zachary had said nothing.
I turned toward him.
He looked shattered.
“Charlotte.”
“Not now.”
“I need to—”
“No.”
For once, he stopped.
I carried Chloe outside.
He followed me to the driveway.
“Please.”
I put Chloe into her car seat.
Then I closed the door.
“What?”
He stared at the ground.
“I didn’t know my mother was saying those things.”
“You knew enough.”
“I thought Tristan was struggling because I remarried.”
“He was.”
“I was trying to protect him.”
“And who protected Chloe?”
His eyes closed.
“Who protected me?”
Nothing.
“You removed me from the family group twenty-eight times.”
“I know.”
“You froze my card after arguments.”
“I know.”
“You let your parents insult me.”
“I know.”
“You let your son call me a mean woman.”
“I know.”
“And when your four-year-old daughter tried to make herself sick over one bite of chicken, you called her manipulative.”
He looked sick.
“I know.”
I opened my car door.
“Then you finally understand why sorry isn’t enough.”
“Can I fix it?”
“You can fix yourself.”
“What about us?”
I looked at him.
“There is no us.”
His face fell.
“Charlotte—”
“But there can still be a you and Chloe.”
He stared at me.
“If you’re willing to become the father she deserves.”
That was the only door I left open.
Not to our marriage.
To his daughter.
May you like
Whether he walked through it was finally his responsibility.
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