The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (people reading books txt) 📗

not that I don’t support it, especially after recent events, but . . . “I’m—I’m confused,” I say.

My mom nods. “That’s exactly what I said when your father served me with papers,” she says.

“Wait,” I say, shaking my head. “He served you with papers?”

She nods and fights back tears. She’s not one to ruin her makeup.

“On what grounds?” I ask.

My mother takes a deep breath, clasping her hands together to stop the shaking.

“The papers say Irreconcilable Differences,” she tells me. “But none of it makes sense to me. We haven’t been fighting. Nothing has seemed unusual. It literally came out of nowhere,” she says. “And Emma, I . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

She breathes heavily as she holds in her emotion.

“I met your father while I was still in college, so I’ve never had to work. This house has been in his family for generations. Everything I own, he’s paid for,” she explains. “And with his legal connections, I’m going to be left with nothing, and I don’t even know why we’re getting divorced.”

I pull my mom in for a hug and she lets her tears fall, drenching my shirt through to my skin. What is my dad up to? If anyone should be filing for divorce here, it’s my mom. The evidence I have from Club Gent alone would guarantee her whatever she wants, but there’s something else going on here, something else he’s hiding.

My dad wouldn’t just up and abandon his family. He’s spent his entire life building his reputation in the community. He’s the mayor, after all, and in a small, gossip-filled, God-fearing town. Divorce is not something you want hanging around your neck unless you have a damn good reason for it. And as awful as my mother may have been to me, she’s right. She’s always been the doting and dutiful wife. None of this makes any sense.

“Emma, I’m,” my mom says, pulling away. “I’m only telling you this because I know you’ll understand, and I know you’ll keep it a secret. Eva doesn’t know. No one else does. I made your father promise we wouldn’t announce it until after Eva and Bill return from their honeymoon. I don’t want to ruin anything for her,” she says.

My mother stands and makes her way to my vanity to blot her tears and freshen her makeup.

“It is ironic after all,” she says. “I’m getting divorced, and she’s getting married. Even more so, I asked you not to ruin your sister’s wedding and here I am trying to do just the same.”

“Mom, I . . . I’m sorry,” I tell her. And it’s the truth. I’m not sorry she and my father are splitting. In light of my father’s extra-curricular activities, it’s for the best. But I am sorry my mother is having to go through this. I know what it feels like to be blindsided by the man you love. But, for my mother, she’s been with my dad for over half her life. This isn’t just him blindsiding her. This is him betraying her on the most intimate level.

“Don’t be, darling,” she says to me. She turns to me then.

“Just . . . just know I’m sorry for all the things I’ve done, all the pain I’ve caused you. I know I’ve always spoken poorly of your independent nature and the choices you’ve made as far as your education, career, and relationships are concerned,” she admits. “But it turns out, even when you think you’ve got it all figured out, you can be left dumbstruck on the side of the street without a pot to piss in,” she says. “Pardon my language,” she blushes. I can’t help but smile. “And when that moment happens, you wish you were more like you, more self-sufficient, more in control,” she tells me.

If only she knew. Me in control is the furthest thing from the truth.

“I admire you, Emma. I admire you for knowing what you want and don’t want and standing strong in the face of disappointment. Now, maybe, you’ll share a little of your strength with me?” she asks.

Her words take me aback. Never did I imagine having this conversation or anything similar to it with my mother. She’s getting divorced. She admires me. She’s apologized. All the horrible memories of my childhood were because of my father, not her. Well, that last part is sort of believable after recent events.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t confused or considered this entire encounter to be another ploy on my father’s behalf. All that talk about me being irreplaceable and the one he loves most. Hogwash. My father, much like the other members of Club Gent, know nothing of love. Perhaps he’s caught wind of what I’m doing in New Orleans and is trying to use my mother to gather information from me. Yes, I realize I’m paranoid. But rather than dismiss this strange and unexpected opportunity for a renewed relationship with my mother, I hug her and tell her I love her. She does the same.

Chapter 25

The rehearsal went as well as you can expect. We walked in a straight line. I pretended to adjust my sister’s imaginary train. And we all smiled. Now, back in the main house, we greet the guests for a pre-wedding reception. I’m not sure if this was Eva’s idea or my mother’s, but whoever thought of a pre-wedding reception sure knows how to stretch a wedding out.

All my friends are married with at least one kid and another on the way. All except for Shaylee who is ahead of the curve with two kids, an ex-husband, and a fiancé. I think I might actually die if one more person asks me why I’m not married yet, what happened with that fiancé of mine, or when do I plan on having kids?

I grab a glass of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter and slip through the hordes of guests out the side entrance. Warm, summer air welcomes me as does the soft sway of a rocking