I’m Ryan’s mother.”
I hadn’t spoken to Carol in nearly three months.
We had never been close — she was the kind of woman who occupied a room by rearranging it, who gave compliments that landed like small corrections.
Ryan was her youngest and she had never fully accepted that he belonged to anyone else.
“Carol,” I said.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“He called me,” she said.
“He told me what happened.
I want you to know that I think you’re overreacting.”
I looked back at the kitchen.
Toby had gotten up to refill his water glass, standing on his toes at the sink the way he always did.
“I’m going to hang up now,” I said.
“Lauren.
He made a mistake.
Men make mistakes.
You have a child together and a home and eight years, and you’re going to throw all of that away because—”
“Because he lied to me for eight months and let a woman I’ve never met drive my son to her apartment every week while he told me he was doing it himself.”
Silence.
“He should have told you,” Carol said, her voice shifting slightly.
“I agree with that.
But Daniela is — she’s a good person.
