“What do you want me to say?” She still wouldn’t look at him.
What was going on? Darius strained to read her thoughts. “I’m your son. I shouldn’t have to coach you through a conversation with me.”
“What do you want me to say?” She repeated the words with an edge of desperation.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You look just like him.” She still wouldn’t look at him.
Simon. He looked just like his father. He knew that. “That bothers you?”
“Yes.”
He flinched. “Why?”
Ethel’s hand shook as she dropped her fork onto her white china plate. The sharp clang was a slap across his face.
“He lied to me. He treated me like a fool.” Ethel clenched her fists, staring off into the middle distance.
“Yes, he did.” Darius took a deep breath and forced an even tone. “But you knew he was lying—or at least suspected it. Why didn’t you push him harder for the truth?”
“It didn’t matter how many times I asked him. He just kept denying it, over and over and over again.”
They’d never discussed this. As a child, he hadn’t known the reason for the tension in their house. He only knew he much preferred his friends’ homes because everyone was so much more relaxed there.
Darius studied the soggy stuffing. “I’d often wondered why you didn’t leave him.”
“Why should I leave?” Ethel stabbed a broccoli spear from her plate. “I paid half the deposit on this house. I pay half the mortgage. I told him to get out years ago, but he wouldn’t.”
They’d stayed in their tension-filled marriage because they were both too pigheaded to leave. He should have known. He’d thought—hoped—they’d tried to make their marriage work because of him. Instead, they’d stayed together because of a house.
“So instead of leaving, you stayed.” Darius caught and held his mother’s resentful gaze. “Instead of punishing him, you punished me.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethel’s frown darkened.
“You weren’t at any of my football games.”
“I fed you.”
“You didn’t attend my graduations.”
“I clothed you.”
“You never helped me move into the dorms at college.”
“I was there for you.”
“No, you weren’t.” Darius stood. What was the point of this? Thanksgiving? He’d be thankful when it was over. “Instead of snubbing Dad, you ignored me. Instead of giving him the silent treatment, you were cold to me. Is it because I look like him? Were you afraid I’d become like him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ethel grabbed the napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table.
“Yes, you do.” Darius’s muscles shook with cold, though the dining room was way too warm.
Ethel stood as well. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“Will you ever stop punishing me for what you did to each other?” Darius pinned her with his stare.
“Get out.” Ethel swung a stiff finger in the direction of the front door. “Get out of my house.”