I moved towards the entry table and picked up one folder. Not at all exciting, just files. Files with bank records, transfer history, financial statements—facts. Some of the most unemotional pieces of information in the world. But at the same time, the ones that cause the most emotion.
“I took some time looking over the finances during my divorce.”
Anthony’s demeanor instantly changed; he became very nervous indeed. This attracted Eleanor’s immediate attention.
“Anthony?”
Silence spoke volumes.
I opened the folder. “Do you want to know why he is so angry?”
“Marissa…”
“No, we need an honest conversation for once.”
His color drained from his face, but I kept talking. “When you complained about my working hours and told everyone that I paid too much attention to my business, your son was secretly spending money linked to my business.”
Eleanor looked puzzled. She looked worried. Then horrified. It happened within a matter of seconds. “Money? What money?”
I stared straight into Anthony’s eyes. “Explain it to her.” But since he didn’t want to, because cowards don’t reveal their skeletons easily, I spoke for him.
And I told her about how her son’s failing business had stayed alive. About the money that was going where it wasn’t supposed to. How I did everything to maintain appearance long after reality didn’t match it. There had been nothing illegal that hadn’t been resolved, but financially it was a tale he didn’t want his mother to know.
She was in a complete state of shock. The kind that takes years of surety right out of you.
“You told me everything was fine.”
He looked at his feet.
“You told me business was booming.”
Not a word. She had faced him fully. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t their center of focus. I was nearly invisible. They had found their center. It was him.
Their ensuing discussion wasn’t mine. I listened for a little bit before butting in. “Both of you need to leave.”
They made no reply, so I said it again. “I don’t want to hear another word from either one of you.”
He looked up at me. “Marissa…”
“No.” Just one word. Strong. Effective. Empowering. “No financial support, no emergencies, no demands, no entry.” I stepped backwards. “If either one of you tries to come back here ever again, I’m not answering the door.”
And then, I shut the door.
The hallway exploded into accusations and shouting. I left before hearing anymore. For the first time in years, their mess didn’t become mine.
The following months brought about changes I didn’t see coming.
J’ai mieux dormi, j’ai retrouvé le plaisir de rire, j’ai consulté mon téléphone sans angoisse et je n’ai plus imaginé le désastre financier qui pourrait m’être imputé. Surtout, je ne me suis plus effacée pour faire de la place à ceux qui ne m’ont jamais respectée.