Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
When Wade arrived at the apartment on Thursday night, he didn't enter like a man seeking forgiveness. He entered like an attorney preparing to deliver a summons.
He was wearing his work suit, carrying a thick leather briefcase, his face set in an expression of rigid, artificial authority that he must have practiced in his mother's living room.
"We need to talk, Maren," he said, setting his briefcase on the dining table. "This situation has gone entirely too far. My mother is emotionally distraught, and her doctor had to prescribe her sleep medication yesterday."
I stood by the kitchen counter, my arms crossed over my chest. Aunt Gwen sat quietly in the corner of the room, her notepad open, recording every word.
"Did your mother’s doctor prescribe anything for the bruise on my face, Wade?" I asked calmly.
Wade waved his hand dismissively. "That was an accidental physical reaction in a moment of extreme stress! We've discussed this! But you refusing to let her see her only newborn granddaughter is cruel, Maren. It's malicious."
"She isn't seeing June," I said. "Not now. Not ever."
Wade’s face darkened, his jaw clenching. "She has rights, Maren! Grandparents in this state have legal recourse if a parent arbitrarily cuts them off from a grandchild!"
"They have recourse if there is an established relationship and cutting them off causes harm to the child," Aunt Gwen chimed in from the corner, her tone dangerously sweet. "June is five weeks old. Your mother struck her mother in front of twenty-three witnesses. No judge in this state will grant Darlene so much as a video call."
Wade turned on Gwen, his face flushing crimson. "Shut up, Gwen! You don't own my wife!"
"Wade," I said, my voice dropping an octave, cutting through his rage like a knife. "Let's talk about the twenty-thousand-dollar line of credit you opened in your name for your mother."
Wade froze.
The color drained from his face so quickly it was as if someone had pulled a plug at his feet. His hands began to tremble, his grip on his briefcase loosening.
"Who... who told you that?" he stuttered, his artificial authority collapsing into absolute panic.
"It doesn't matter who told me," I said, stepping toward him. "You used our joint credit, you lied to me about our savings, and you’ve been funneling money out of our household to fund your mother's lifestyle while I was pregnant, worrying about how we were going to pay for June's delivery!"
"Maren, listen to me—"
"No, you listen to me!" I shouted, the raw, unyielding rage of a mother defending her home finally erupting from my chest. "You let your mother rewrite my daughter's cake! You let her strike me across the face! You told me to apologize to her while my skin was burning from her hand! And all the while, you were paying her debts with our future!"
Wade took a step back, looking terrified. "Mom said she would pay it back when she sold her summer cottage! She was stuck, Maren! I couldn't say no to her!"
"You could say no to me!" I cried. "You could say no to June! You made me feel like I was crazy for wanting my daughter to have her own name, while you were quietly bankrupting us to appease a woman who doesn't give a damn about either of us!"
I walked over to the front door and pulled it wide open.
"Get out, Wade," I whispered.
May you like
"Maren, please," he begged, tears finally welling in his eyes as the full reality of what he had destroyed crashed down upon him. "It’s my home too. We can fix this. We can go to marriage counseling!"
"You didn't protect me in your mother's house," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "So I am protecting myself in mine. Leave."
