Chapter 31
CHAPTER
BACK HOME, SALLY gets a homemade doggy cookie, then joins me on the couch. After I pull up Mackenzie’s number, I hesitate, suddenly nervous, and tap Aletheia’s icon.
Yes, Penn?
“Any last-minute advice?”
Play nice. Hear Mackenzie out.
“That might be impossible,” I admit.
Sun Tzu, a Chinese strategist and general, said, Know thy enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, you will never be defeated.
Knowing she’s in my corner loosens the knots in my neck. “Okay, thanks.”
Mackenzie picks up on the first ring. “Hey, Penn.”
“Hi. I’m sorry, about before. It’s just … It’s been hard.”
“I do get that,” Mackenzie says, her tone thawing.
Yeah, right.
Together, Aletheia and I listen to her talk about wanting us to be kind to each other, attend Circe’s Spring Fling together—a dance where the parents are invited.
Mackenzie says she understands how hurt I must feel.
That she never meant this to happen, and that Bruce never-ever-ever wanted to hurt me, ever.
He respects me so much, she says. Their love just blew them both away.
“It was a coup de foudre—that’s French for love at first sight. Undeniable.”
She’s a child. But once upon a time, I was a child, too. Back then I believed in Bruce just like she now does.
“About our wedding,” Mackenzie says. “I hope you don’t mind me asking Circe to be a part of it?”
Of course, I do. “Not at all.”
“Oh, good. That means so much to Bruce and me. She’s so excited about the Midsummer Night’s Dream theme. Sorry, this must be hard to hear.”
“Every bride is excited for the big day,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Really? Bruce said you were married at city hall?”
The two of us and Brian, a witness and total stranger that we pulled from the street.
It felt grown-up, exciting, scary, momentous …
and lonely. Our parents were dead, and we worked hard at school and our jobs, didn’t have time for close friends.
But I’m not going to share any of this with Mackenzie.
She’s needling me and wants a rise despite saying she wishes we’d get along so she can report back to Circe that she tried, but I was impossible.
Mackenzie prattles on. “Just so you know, we’re hoping to have children. But only if that’s God’s plan.”
I don’t point out the hypocrisy of invoking God yet stealing another woman’s husband.
“Hopefully, someday, maybe all of us will look back at this time, even though it was hard, and see that it was for the best,” Mackenzie concludes. “But in the meantime, can we try to get along? For Circe?”
Her patronizing tone strips my last nerve. “When did you start caring about my daughter? Was it before or after you destroyed her family?”
“Maybe I was a symptom, but I was never the problem,” Mackenzie says.
Clearly, she and Bruce agreed on that. “Whatever you need to tell yourself so that you can sleep at night.”
“Jesus, you’re so sanctimonious. FYI, I sleep just fine.”
“That’s because you’re a selfish brat who doesn’t know the first thing about what it means to sacrifice, take vows, and create a family. You knew Bruce was married and you went after him.”
“I didn’t twist his arm,” Mackenzie says, her light and breezy tone now cutting. “It’s not my fault that he got tired of meatloaf and wanted prime rib.”
A food analogy? But clearly, Mackenzie’s true nature was right beneath the surface. All it took was one scratch to expose her mean streak.
“And FYI,” she continues, “you can’t take someone’s husband. If a man wants to leave his wife, then he will.”
“You know this from your vast experience with men old enough to be your father?”
“Age is just a number,” Mackenzie retorts. “Bruce has worked his ass off. He deserves to enjoy life. He wasn’t with you.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Really? Bruce was bored of the routine meals, routine vacations, routine dinner parties, and routine sex. Have you ever even considered talking dirty or doing it in a restaurant bathroom to spice things up?”
Humiliation makes my insides burn. I hang up.
You did not play nice.
“She’s a liar.”
Mackenzie did not lie. Whether what she said is true or not, she believes it. She is immature, holds you in disdain, and would score high on the narcissist scale.
All the anger I’ve only allowed to leak free in bits and pieces explodes.
“I want to burn her world to the ground! Bruce’s, too!
I want Mackenzie humiliated and him to crawl back to me on his hands and knees so I can tell him to go to hell.
” I don’t recognize my own voice, rough with emotion, but it feels good to finally give in to rage.
A text pings and I wince, expecting more vitriol from Mackenzie, but it’s my daughter.
Circe: Dinner next week, after sectionals?
The fury drains from my body at this unexpected gift. Teen girls are mercurial, but I guess she’s not mad at me anymore. Or maybe it’s pity. My eyes smart. Either way, I’ll take it.
Me: I’ll make your favorites
Me: Actually, let’s make them together
Circe: Kk
Both Bruce and Mackenzie deserve a karmaquence.
Lost in plans to cook with my daughter, I’m startled by Aletheia’s harsh tone. “Wow. I’m glad you’re on my side,” I joke to lighten the mood.
You are very fortunate.