Chapter 4 - Melissa’s Engagement Party
I had no intention of attending Melissa’s engagement party.
Then Aunt Ruth called.
“You should come.”
“Why?”
“Because your parents are telling everyone you’ve become unstable since the settlement.”
I stopped washing a coffee cup.
“What?”
“They say Ethan’s parents and your lawyers are controlling you.”
My hand tightened around the cup.
“And people believe them?”
“Some.”
I looked toward Ethan’s mug still sitting beside the sink.
“What time is the party?”
Saturday night, I walked into the country club wearing a simple black dress.
The room went silent in waves.
Melissa saw me first.
Her smile disappeared.
Mom hurried over.
“Claire! We weren’t expecting you.”
“I noticed.”
Dad appeared behind her.
“This isn’t the appropriate place.”
I glanced around.
“Interesting. Funerals weren’t appropriate either.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“I am.”
Aunt Ruth appeared with a glass of sparkling water.
“There’s my favorite troublemaker.”
Mom glared at her.
“Aunt Ruth invited me,” I said.
Melissa marched over.
“Why are you here?”
“To congratulate you.”
“After ignoring my invitation?”
I looked at her fiancé, Ryan, standing several feet away.
“Congratulations, Ryan.”
“Thank you,” he said cautiously.
Melissa pulled me aside.
“You’re trying to ruin tonight.”
“No.”
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything about you.”
I stared at her.
“My husband and two children died on your birthday.”
Her face drained.
“That is not what I meant.”
“Then choose your words more carefully.”
Dad appeared.
“Enough.”
“No, Dad.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
People nearby had stopped pretending not to listen.
He lowered his voice.
“You’re embarrassing this family.”
I looked around the room.
Then back at him.
“Tell them.”
“What?”
“Tell everyone why you missed the funeral.”
Mom whispered, “Please.”
Dad’s face turned red.
“This is cruel.”
I almost couldn’t believe the word.
“Cruel?”
Melissa grabbed my wrist.
“Stop.”
I gently removed her hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“Melissa, maybe we should—”
“Stay out of it!”
He stared at her.
The silence deepened.
I looked at my parents.
“I didn’t come here for revenge. I came because you’ve been telling relatives that grief made me unstable.”
Dad looked toward Aunt Ruth.
She lifted her glass.
“Don’t blame me for repeating your own words, Charles.”
Mom whispered, “We were worried.”
“No. You were worried about the settlement.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Then why did you call me thirty-seven times the day the article came out?”
Nobody answered.
I continued.
“Why not thirty-seven calls after the funeral?”
Melissa’s eyes filled.
For the first time, she didn’t look angry.
She looked ashamed.
“I should have gone,” she whispered.
Mom turned.
“Melissa.”
“No, Mom.”
Melissa looked at me.
“I should have gone.”
I said nothing.
“I kept telling myself it wasn’t my responsibility because Mom and Dad made the decision. But I was twenty-nine years old. I could have gotten in my car.”
Her voice broke.
“I didn’t.”
That apology hurt more than the excuses.
Because it was the first honest thing anyone had said.
“I can’t forgive you tonight,” I said.
Melissa nodded.
“I know.”
Dad stared at both of us.
“This is absurd. We made one mistake.”
I looked at him.
“No, Dad.”
I picked up my coat.
“You made a choice.”
At the door, he called after me.
“What exactly do you want from us?”
I turned.
May you like
“Nothing.”
And for the first time, I meant it.
