In May, Clare filed for divorce, the court filing citing financial irresponsibility, a negative influence on their child’s development, an unwillingness to admit fault or seek counseling, and irreconcilable differences. Derek fought for custody, claiming Clare had abandoned him during a crisis. Tyler was caught in the middle of it all over again. I felt sad reading about it, mostly for Tyler. Derek would never really change. The car had never been the actual problem. Derek’s character was the problem all along, and the Mercedes had only exposed what was already broken underneath.
One afternoon, Barbara showed up at the small house I’d since bought in East Nashville. I opened the door but didn’t invite her in, and we stood together on the porch instead. Your house is beautiful, she said. Thanks, I said. What do you want. Can I come in, she asked. No, I said. She flinched but held her ground. I was wrong about everything, she said. I waited. Derek has been lying about his finances for years, she continued. The Mercedes was leased. He couldn’t actually afford it. Clare is divorcing him. You tried to tell us, and we didn’t listen. I know, I said. Can you forgive me, she asked. I already did, I told her. She looked relieved too quickly. That doesn’t mean I trust you, I added. Her face fell. What can I do to fix this, she asked. Nothing, I said. Just live with it. Like I have to. She stood there crying, and I didn’t move. Eventually she walked back to her car and drove away. Forgiveness had happened for me. Not for her. Trust would take years, if it ever came at all.
