It’s not a question, but I nod. “I don’t really understand how or why, but it feels like I’ve known him forever. Sometimes he just looks at me and I feel plugged in.”
She stops at a traffic signal and turns to me, the hard lines of her face softening. “Let’s just wait and see how the investigation comes out, okay? If he didn’t do anything to that girl, I’ll be the first to apologize.”
I slump in my seat, trying not to think about the investigation, or Dad’s affair, or anything else for the rest of the ride. We pull into the parking lot at the rehab center and Becky looks at me as she rolls into a parking spot. “I made lasagna for dinner tonight. It’s your dad’s favorite.”
She’s right. I’d forgotten that. There was a little dive on the corner near our house, Tony’s Little Italy, that Dad used to stop by on his way home from work a few times a month. They did this take-out lasagna dinner, with garlic bread and salad, for cheap.
“Were you ever there when he brought Tony’s lasagna home?” I ask.
Her eyes go a little distant as she nods. “I was. Your dad loved that place.”
“I try not to think too much about those days. It feels like someone else’s life.”
She sighs deeply. “That’s understandable, Addie, but I think if you could find some of those good memories and hold onto them, it might help you both heal.”
I look at her. “Did Mom know Dad was having an affair?”
There’s a heartbeat where she freezes and the car lurches a little as her foot presses harder on the gas pedal. “He told you?”
“He feels so guilty about it. But, looking back and knowing what I know now, I think their marriage was probably over way before that.”
She rolls to a stop at a signal, staring at the red light ahead. “That’s pretty accurate.”
“So, did Mom know?”
There’s a long pause before she nods. “She knew.”
“I never heard them fight or anything.”
“It wasn’t like your mother to scream and yell, Addie. She just…left—lost herself in her stories when things got hard.”
I feel anger rising up inside me and it surprises me a little. “Did she at least fight for him?”
She huffs out a laugh, but when I look at her, I’m not convinced it wasn’t a small sob. “She knew she hadn’t been a wife to your father in a long time.” She makes the turn onto the road that leads up the hill to the rehab center. “They were planning to get married when the divorce was final and she was happy for them.”
As strange as that sounds, it explains why they got along so well on that last European trip. I wasn’t the most aware person when it came to their marriage, but they really seemed to like each other on that trip. There was no bitterness on either side.
But then I really hear Becky’s words. “Them? Did Mom know the other woman?”
She nods.
I lower my face into my hand. “Why didn’t they tell me any of this?”
“They were going to, Addie, but it was a complicated situation and you were so young. They wanted to wait until they thought you’d understand.”
I try to remember if there was ever any strange woman hanging around after Mom died. “What happen to the woman?”
She takes a deep breath. “Your father was heartbroken after Maggie died. He really did love her. I guess his guilt got the best of him and he broke off the affair.”
I sink deeper into the seat. “You say he loved Mom, but did he love the other woman too?”
She bobs a sad nod. “I think so.”
So he was grieving both of them. That and his guilt drove him over the edge.
When we walk into Dad’s room, he’s shoving a handful of socks in his duffel bag. He holds one up when he sees us. “They did my laundry. Guess they thought sorting lights from darks might be enough to send me running for the bottle.”
Becky laughs, but it’s strained. “One less thing to worry about.”
He zips the bag and hikes it onto his shoulder. “The discharge planner was here a few minutes ago. She says I’m cleared to go.”
“Great, Dad,” I say, giving him a quick hug and taking his bag.
We head to the parking lot and I drive Dad home in his car. Becky follows in hers.
I glance at him as we make the turn out of the lot. “How are you feeling?”
“Very, very sober,” he says wearily, slumping deeper into the seat.
I decide to stop trying to make small talk when he closes his eyes and drops his head onto the headrest. When we get home, he takes his bag to his room to unpack.
“Do you need some help?” I ask Becky when she heads to the kitchen.
She opens the oven door and pulls out the lasagna. “I’m going to make a salad while this sets, so we’ll be ready to eat in about half an hour. That’s enough time to get you out the door to work?”
I glance at the clock. “Yeah, that will work.”
Vicky told me to take the night off, but when she couldn’t get Marni to cover, I told her I’d be in by the time she leaves at five.
I shuffle down the hall to my room and stick my head into Dad’s. “It’s good to have you home.”