Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF FINALLY BELIEVING HER
Believing Rachel did not repair what disbelief had done.
That took me several days to understand.
I wanted action.
I called an attorney.
I gave the police the dates from Rachel’s notebook.
I contacted her doctor with her permission.
I changed passwords, locks, garage codes, and emergency contacts.
I thought doing the right things quickly would prove I was finally on her side.
Rachel remained at Jenna’s.
On the fourth night, I asked when she was coming home.
She stared at me across Jenna’s dining table.
“I don’t know.”
The answer hurt more than I expected.
“Mom can’t get into the house.”
“This isn’t only about your mom.”
I knew what was coming.
I still wanted to avoid it.
Rachel continued.
“She made me question my memory.”
“I know.”
“And you helped her.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t want to know.”
That was different.
And true.
Mom had always been difficult.
After my father died five years earlier, she became more dependent on me.
She called about bills.
Repairs.
Doctor appointments.
Problems with neighbors.
She hated being alone.
Rachel was the first person who regularly told me I did not have to solve every crisis my mother created.
Mom noticed.
Then Lily was born.
Suddenly there was a new person at the center of my life.
Mom loved Lily.
I believed that completely.
But I had mistaken love for harmlessness.
“What do you need from me?” I asked.
Rachel looked tired.
“Stop asking me to design your apology.”
I sat back.
She softened slightly.
“I need you to understand why I’m scared to come home even though your mother isn’t there.”
I waited.
“Because for months, I was telling you something was wrong.”
Her eyes filled.
“And the person who made me feel crazy had a key because you kept giving her one.”
I lowered my head.
Nothing I could say would make that sentence less accurate.
Then Rachel said something worse.
“The day before you caught her with Lily, your mom told me maybe I needed inpatient treatment.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“She said if I checked myself into a hospital for a few days, she could stay with you and Lily.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Rachel gave me a sad smile.
“Because by then, I thought maybe she was right.”
That was the moment anger stopped protecting me from guilt.
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My mother had been building a story about Rachel.
And I had helped give it credibility.
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