That Summer by Jennifer Weiner (free e reader txt) 📗

“Hal raped a girl.”

“Oh, Daisy.” Her mother clasped her hands and looked at Daisy with disapproval. “What a terrible thing to say.”

For a moment, Daisy was sure she must have heard incorrectly. “A terrible thing to say?” she repeated. “How about a terrible thing to do?”

“Let me get you something to drink.” Her mother turned away, and Daisy followed her, staying right on her heels.

“I don’t want anything to drink. I want to know what Danny told you about that party.”

Her mother sighed, shaking her head. “What Danny told me,” she repeated. “What Danny told me was that a girl at the party had gotten very drunk, and that he’d heard that something might have happened to her, and that Hal might have been involved. Your brother was concerned for you. But, Daisy, he didn’t have any reason to worry. Whatever happened when Hal was in high school happened almost fifteen years before you two met. He was a different person by then.”

Daisy shook her head, hearing nothing but mealy-mouthed “mights” and “somethings,” and “that girl.” “My friend Diana. The woman who came to dinner on Saturday. The consultant. She’s the one who says Hal raped her.”

Judy cocked her head, looking quizzical. “The other Diana?”

As soon as her mother spoke, Daisy realized that she should have known. The truth was right there, that it had been there all along, if she’d only been willing to see it. “You know that Hal was the one who started calling me Daisy, right? He said he wanted to give me a name that was special. He said…” She took a breath and tried to remember. “… he said he’d known another Diana, once.” Her mouth felt dry, her body numb, as if it had been packed with snow, as she remembered. “And you knew. You knew what he was. Danny told you.”

Judy Rosen raised her chin. “What Danny told me was that something might have happened when Hal was eighteen. Even if he’d done something terrible, even if it wasn’t just a case of too much alcohol and mixed signals, Daisy, it was so long ago!”

“What if he’d done it to me?” Daisy asked. “What if some boy did that to Beatrice? Would it matter, how long ago it had happened? Would you be okay if he said, Oh, sorry, we were both drinking and I guess I got mixed signals?”

For some endless span of time, her mother didn’t speak. “Hal’s a good man,” Judy finally managed. “He loved you very much. And you loved him! I really don’t see the point in stirring up all of this old mess.” Her lips curled in distaste, and Daisy wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

“You know what I think?” Her voice was strident, her hands were balled into fists. “I think Danny told you exactly what Hal was. I think you didn’t care. And you know what else I think?” She could see Arnold Mishkin in the darkened hallway, his pale face glimmering, ghostlike, as he listened, but Daisy didn’t stop. “I think you were done being a mother. I think that, after Daddy died, you didn’t have anything left for me. I think you were glad for me to be someone else’s responsibility.”

“Daisy, that’s not true! All I wanted was for you to be happy!” her mother said. “Happy, and safe, and secure, so you’d never have to worry about your whole life falling apart!” Her voice was getting louder. “Hal was a good man, he had a good job, he had a house, he had plenty of money, and he was generous…”

“He pulled me out of college,” said Daisy, half to herself, remembering what Hal had told her: There’s a lot of great schools in Philadelphia. You can finish your degree. But, right now, I need your help getting the house together.

“No, Daisy, that’s not true. He wanted you to finish!”

“Well, he certainly never pushed for me to go back.” She thought of what Diana had said, the first night that they’d met in New York City: You were a child bride. She’d laughed it off, but now she saw herself as a newlywed, wide-eyed and innocent, happy to let Hal guide her, happy to surrender her power, her agency, her voice. Everything. She’d given him everything. Even her name.

She turned for the door, feeling hollowed out and exhausted. “I’m leaving,” she said, and began walking toward the door. “I’m done.”

“Daisy!” her mother called.

Daisy turned around. “What’s wrong with you?” she shouted at her mother. “I wasn’t that much older than Beatrice, and I’d die to keep anything bad from happening to her, and you! You let me marry a criminal,” she hissed.

Her mother was crying, shaking her head. “People change,” she said. “Hal is a good man. I know he is. And if some silly girl got drunk at a party and showed up, all these years later, to make crazy accusations about Hal raping her, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change what the two of you have.”

Daisy shook her head and kept walking. Her mother called after her.

“What are you going to do?”

When Daisy didn’t turn around, her mother ran after her, putting her hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “He’s still Beatrice’s father,” she whispered.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Daisy shouted. Crying, her mother retreated to the kitchen. Then Arnold was there, touching her arm gently. Daisy whirled around to glare at him. “Did you know about this?”

He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how you must feel.”

“Not good!” said Daisy, with a harsh, barking laugh. Arnold nodded sadly.

“Your mother only wanted what was best for you. She wanted you to be happy, and safe, and well taken care of. I’m sure you know how hard it was after your father died.”

“I could have taken care of myself,” Daisy said. “I could have gotten my degree, and gotten a job.”

“Of course,” Arnold said. “But Judy didn’t see it that way. It was different for