“He wanted to wait until the beginning of the year, to get you through Christmas and your birthday first, but…there’s no point in keeping it from you any longer, darling. You deserve to know the truth. We’re getting a divorce. We’ve already hired attorneys and we’re currently in discussion about all of the assets we’ve acquired during our marriage, including the art.”
Mother waves her hand at a sculpture standing nearby, one that she loves.
“Divide it up?”
“He refuses to keep any of the pieces or split them up between us. Says if I want all of it, I have to buy him out.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “I’m not going to give up millions of dollars of my money to pay for art I already own. That’s ridiculous.”
I’m at a complete loss for words. I almost don’t believe her. Why would they get a divorce now? Won’t it be too complicated—and costly? They’ve been together for such a long time. Almost twenty-five years.
“For the settlement, we’ll end up dividing all of the art work and selling it. Every bit of it. I won’t be able to keep any of my pieces,” she continues, her eyes welling up with tears.
“Oh, Mama.” I haven’t called her that in years. Seeing her like this is breaking my heart. “I know how much all of it means to you.”
“Yes, yes, that’s true, but I’ll be fine. It’s all right. There will be an auction.” She sniffs, her fingers dashing away the tears on her face. “Every piece in the house will go. You probably shouldn’t have your new piece delivered here if you want to keep it.”
“Wait, what about the Colen piece in my bedroom?”
“It’s too valuable, Wren. Anything in the house will be included in the total collection that we acquired during our marriage,” Mother explains.
I blink away the tears forming. “But Daddy gave that to me for my birthday!”
“I’m so sorry, darling. There’s nothing I can do.” She takes another sip of her wine, as if that’s the end of the conversation.
Frustrated, I leave the sitting room and go to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me, not caring who hears it or if it makes someone angry. We’re not a house where yelling and big fights and slamming doors happens. Everything is discussed civilly. Quietly. With dignity.
Sometimes all that quiet dignity is annoying. Like my mother and how calm she was, announcing their impending divorce.
As I change out of my outfit into leggings and an oversized sweater, I can’t stop thinking about what my mother said.
How did I not see it? I know they don’t always get along. Daddy is always working. Traveling a lot. Out until late. I didn’t see him much at all when I was very young. He tried to be there for me as I got older, especially when the whole phone/forum mess happened. He worked less during that time, and he made sure to be there for our nightly family dinners. Sometimes he even helped me with my homework, though that wasn’t often and usually consisted of the two of us sitting in his home office while he worked on his computer. Mother always told him I needed a more solid relationship with him. A positive male role model so I wouldn’t grow up and have Daddy issues.
But then they sent me to Lancaster and I don’t see much of either of them. I’m not home for the day-to-day interactions. During the summer, they always plan lots of family trips. Though last summer we didn’t travel as much. Daddy was working.
Maybe it was fractured even then.
There’s a knock on my door and before I can say come in, it’s swinging open, Daddy standing there with an annoyed look on his face.
“Can I speak with you for a moment?”
I plop down on my bed, folding my legs close to my body and curling my arms around them. “Yes.”
He closes the door behind him and leans against it, watching me. “Your mother said she told you.”
I nod, not sure what to say.
“I wanted to tell you. The two of us together, as a united front,” he starts, but I talk over him.
“You’re really not united anymore though.”
A rough exhale leaves him and he scrubs the side of his face. “This isn’t how I wanted things to go.”
“Why are you forcing her to sell all of the art?” I ask, my voice small. My gaze goes to the piece hanging on the wall. My gift that wasn’t a gift at all. “She told me I can’t keep that.”
He studies it before returning his gaze to mine. “It’s a valuable piece. One that could fetch a lot of money.”
“Is that what this is all about? Money? Is that why you’re selling everything? I’m sure you’ll make a ton off of Mom’s curated collection she’s worked so hard at over the years.” Oh, I’m mad. Mad he would betray her like this. Angry he would so callously force her to give up everything she’s collected over the past twenty years.
“I invested in those pieces. It was my money she used to purchase them. That collection is every bit mine as it is hers,” Daddy says, pushing away from the door. “Don’t fall for her sob story. She’s just angry things aren’t working out in her favor.”
“I don’t blame her. None of it is fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Pumpkin. That’s a good lesson to learn now, when you’re still young. Bad things will happen to you, and some of the time, it’s completely out of your control. It all comes down to the choices you make.” He paces my room, pausing to stare at the art piece that no longer belongs to me. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life, but the very best choice was marrying your mother and having you. I hope you believe me when I say that.”
“Then why won’t you stay married to her? If she was the best choice you ever made?” I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears drip off my face.
“People change. They want different things.” His expression softens. “I don’t want to hurt you. Neither does your mother.”
“Too late,” I whisper, my chest aching from holding back the tears.