Page 86 of The Surprise

“Her own parents said she was broken. They said she was a lost cause, and that spending all that was a waste.”

“But Dad.”

“That’s why I married her. She could be on my insurance, and I could pay for it.”

It never worked, in spite of all his faith, in spite of his herculean efforts and ongoing rehab. I don’t point that out.

“She got better,” he says. “We had years, sometimes, before she relapsed.” He looks like a junkie himself as he explains this.

“Dad, you still—”

“But it wasn’t just the rehab.” He sighs.

“What?”

“In between bouts with using, when she’d get upset, sometimes after a relapse, sometimes before she’d use again, she’d go shopping.”

“I don’t understand.”

“She bought things we didn’t need. Things we couldn’t afford. It made her feel, I guess. That’s what she said.”

“But—”

“I couldn’t afford to pay the bills.” He looks broken. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you. . .you decided to steal from Aunt Donna?”

He shakes his head. “No, Dad told me he was leaving me everything. But then, later, he changed his mind.” Dad’s face crumples. “But he didn’t tell Donna. And at that point, I had his power of attorney.”

Oh, no.

“Donna had that rich husband and she had that fancy education.”

“Dad.”

“Even now, she’s got a job. She and Aiden are fine, but I’m about to lose your mother. And she wouldn’t budge at all.”

“Budge?” I shake my head. “You lied to her.”

“Which is why I need your help.”

“My help?” I feel sick even asking that question.

“Don’t you want to stay here?” He has no idea how badly I want that. But we don’t get what we want just for wanting it. “If you could talk to your aunt, if you could explain. . .”

Mom stomps down the hall, then. She’s carrying a bag. “Elizabeth Amelia Ellingson, let’s go.”

“Mom.” I walk out of the office, and I take a good look at my mother. This whole time, I’ve been seeing her as this pathetic victim who just can’t stop herself and my dad as the mastermind, but was that wrong?

When I look back at my dad, I wonder. “Let’s report Dad,” I say. “He can confess to the police that he hit Aunt Donna, and then—”

Mom shakes her head, the blood draining from her face. “We can’t do that.” She drops her suitcase, and walks across the hall to me. She places one hand on my cheek. “Promise me that you won’t do that.”

“But you said that’s why you’re leaving. Let the law sort that out, and maybe he can take classes or go to therapy.”

Mom shakes her head. “Once someone crosses that line, they can’t go back.”

For decades now, Dad has given up everything to try and help her, and the first time he crosses her line, she’s done?

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