Chapter 11 - The Damage I Couldn’t Blame Entirely on Her
For several days after Hannah told me, I was furious at Margaret.
Then our therapist asked:
“What did you personally do that Emily needs repaired?”
I hated the question.
My mother had manipulated us.
Surely that was the central problem.
But marriage did not repair itself by correctly identifying the worst actor.
I had invited Margaret to stay after Emily said she wanted privacy.
I gave Margaret a house key without discussing it.
I gave her access to the nursery camera.
I accepted updates about Emily instead of asking Emily directly.
I worked late because Margaret told me everything was handled.
Worst of all, I had a fifteen-year example sitting in front of me.
Hannah.
I dismissed it.
Not because I was malicious.
Because believing Margaret was easier.
I told Emily all of that.
She did not comfort me.
Good.
“I need one thing,” she said.
“Anything.”
“Don’t say anything.”
I stopped.
She continued.
“When I tell you something uncomfortable, don’t immediately explain why somebody else might have done it.”
I swallowed.
“I do that?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to explain that I was trying to see every side.
I almost proved her point.
Instead I said:
“Okay.”
That became my work.
Listening without instantly translating.
Emily told me she had felt crowded from the moment Noah was born.
I listened.
She told me Margaret made her feel like every mistake was being reported to me.
I listened.
She told me I had sometimes entered the room already knowing a version of what happened because Margaret texted me first.
I listened.
Then Emily said:
“I started wondering whether I was actually losing it.”
That sentence destroyed me.
My wife had doubted her own perception inside her own home.
Margaret caused much of that.
My passivity gave it room.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily nodded.
This time the apology sounded smaller.
Maybe that was appropriate.
May you like
Words were no longer supposed to do the work.
Behavior was.
