“No, you don’t,” my father says. “You can’t possibly. There is nothing that woman could do to redeem herself for you. Her family is responsible for nearly killing your mother. Is that not important to you?”
“Her father is responsible,” I say. “Not her. She had nothing to do with it. For God’s sake, she was a child, just like me. There’s a lot about her life that you don’t know, and it’s not my place to tell you. But you of all people should know that money doesn’t automatically making your life better.”
My mother’s face darkens with anger, and she stands, pacing the room. “I thought you were better than this, Daniel. I thought you were better than being sucked in by the Blast family once again. I thought that you, being the genius that you are, would see how poisonous they have always been. It doesn’t matter if she’s not directly responsible for what happened to us, she’s still complicit. She bullied you for years. How can that not matter to you?”
“I never said that it didn’t matter,” I say. “I only said that I was able to move on. And if I, of all people, can move on and fall in love with her, surely you might be able to move on and see that she’s not the horrifying monster that you think she is.”
My father makes a face and a sound of protest. “I sincerely doubt that.”
I’m not expecting the sudden anger, and I stand up, facing the two of them. “Honestly, I expected better from the both of you. If it was any other person—any other woman at all you didn’t know—and I said that I had fallen in love and got married, you would have been happy for me. But instead, you’re holding her accountable for crimes that she didn’t commit. You’ve never even asked if she said she was sorry. Or wondered if she’s a different person now. Do neither of you believe that people are capable of change?”
My father is the one that speaks first, though neither of them speak immediately. “I remember watching your mother waste away with illness while we were sleeping in a car because condos and fancy restaurants were more important than the health of people living in that neighborhood. I remember seeing you come home ashamed, afraid, and downtrodden because she led a charge of bullying against you. I remember the terror and fear that it wasn’t over, and that he would take more from us then he already had, simply because he could.
“And now I look at the news and I see him testifying, trying to get appeal and I know that he isn’t sorry in the slightest. Why should I believe that his daughter is any different? Why should I think that she doesn’t have some sort of personal stake in his release? How do you know you can trust her? How do you know she isn’t just seducing you for your money, so that she can take it and run? Get back to the life that her family lost?”
“Your father makes an excellent point,” my mother says. “I don’t deny that people can change, Daniel. But we’ve lived longer than you have. And in my experience, they do not. Not when it comes to money. People are selfish, greedy, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get ahead. No matter who they have to step on to do it. And the Blast family is the very worst example of that. So sure, people can definitely change. But in this case I highly doubt that it’s true. You’re being an absolute fool for trusting her, and I’m ashamed that you would do so.”
It’s then that I hear the smallest sound and turn to see Monica has stepped into the room. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there, but I know that I told her to come straight inside. For certain, she heard at least the last moments of my mother’s diatribe against her. Probably more. The look on her face is stricken and broken, and all I can do is think: dear God, what have I done?
Everything freezes for just a second, and then I’m running, and so is she “Monica, wait!”
She’s faster than I am, even in the heels that she’s wearing. From what I can see, she looks beautiful, in a tasteful dark blue dress, dark hair curled.
I remember she was nervous to make a good impression, and I can’t imagine how completely humiliated she must feel right now. I never meant for to hear any of this. I never meant for them to even say any of it. In my wildest dreams I didn’t expect this reaction from them.
I manage to make it to the front door, but by the time I’m there she’s already outside. The car that dropped her off hasn’t even left yet, and she’s back inside before I can reach it. Running across my parents’ front lawn, I’m desperate to get to the car door, but the car starts to move before I make it. I call after her, running after the car, but I know there’s no point in that.