“Go to your room.”
I opened my eyes and looked at my daughter.
“I’m furious that he lied,” I told her. “I’m furious that he dragged you into this. But I understand why you wanted a grandmother. I understand.”
Jordan sniffed. “Are you going to stop me from seeing her?”
“I’ll tell your dad,” I said. “And then we’ll decide together. No more secrets. Do you understand?”
She nodded, small and scared.
“Go to your room,” I said. “No phone. We’ll talk about this again when dad gets home.”
I told him everything.
He walked down the hallway as if he were on his way to his execution.
A few hours later, my husband came home.
He walked into the kitchen, saw my face, and then Jordan’s empty seat on the table.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Sit down,” I said.
I told him everything.
“Is it true?”
He remained very still.
“You moved here?” he said. “Without saying anything?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And he saw our daughter behind our backs.”
I nodded.
He stared at the table and then called Jordan.
“She didn’t mean to cross me.”
“Is it true?” he asked.
She nodded.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she whispered. “I just wanted to get to know her.”
“You lied to us,” he said. “Again and again.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m punished. I understand. I’m not angry about it. It’s just… She didn’t want her to die without me knowing her well. She said she ruined everything with you and didn’t want to do it with me.”
We remain silent.
She went to extremes.
“Is she really sick?” he asked.
Jordan nodded. “She’s on a lot of medication. She’s tired. She didn’t tell me everything, but… it’s serious.”
He rested his head in his hands.
“I’m very angry,” he said. “With you. With her. With myself. With everything.”
We were silent.
It was a small, old apartment.
Then he looked up.
“I have to see it,” he said. “Now.”
“Together,” I said.
He nodded.
We were driving as a family. Jordan gave us the address.
It was a small, old apartment building on the other side of town.
He gripped the doorframe.
Jordan hesitated at the door, then knocked.
My mother-in-law opened the door.
He looked older than I remembered. Thinner. Smaller. As if someone had lowered his oxygen saturation.
His eyes went straight to Jordan. Then to his son. Then to me.
He gripped the doorframe.
“Oh,” he said softly.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Can we come in?” my husband asked.
“Of course,” he said.
Let’s go in.
The house was clean. Small. A blanket on the couch. Pill bottles on the countertop.
He sat down slowly. His hands were shaking.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“I was mean to you.”
My husband crossed his arms.
“You went behind our backs,” he said. “You dragged my daughter into your mess.”
“I know,” he said. “I was selfish. I was afraid if I’d asked you first, you’d say no. I wanted to see him so badly, I used him. I hate myself for that.”
He looked at me.
“I was mean to you,” she said.
“I’m alone here.”
She turned to him.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she said. “But I’m sick. And I didn’t want to die without trying.”
“What’s going on?” she asked. “The illness.”
“I won’t go into medical details, but it’s serious. Not ‘anytime now,’ but not ‘twenty years from now.’”
“I’m alone here,” she said. “I rented this place near Jordan’s school because I knew it existed, and I thought if I could… see her…”
“Do you want it?”
She looked at Jordan, her eyes moist.
“I never should have asked you to lie,” she said. “It was cruel. I’m sorry, honey.”
Jordan burst into tears.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she cried. “I just wanted a grandmother.”
My husband closed his eyes.
“Do you love her?” he asked his mother.
The room fell silent.
