“Susan, honey, I’ve been thinking about yesterday,” she said. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.”
“Have you?” I asked.
“I want you to know that we love you and the boys more than anything,” she said. “If we said something that seemed hurtful, that wasn’t our intention.”
The careful non-apology hung in the air. Not “we were wrong” or “we’re sorry.” Just “if you misunderstood our perfectly reasonable position.”
“Mom, can I ask you something?” I said.
“Of course, sweetheart,” she replied.
“Do you think Jaime and Tyler are your grandchildren in the same way Madison and Connor are?” I asked.
A pause.
Too long of a pause.
“What kind of question is that?” she said. “Of course they are.”
“Then why don’t you treat them the same way?” I asked.
“Susan, we do treat them the same,” she insisted. “If you think otherwise, you’re misreading the situation.”
I made a decision that would prove crucial later.
Instead of arguing over the phone, I decided to hear their honest opinions when they thought I wasn’t listening.
“You know what, Mom?” I said lightly. “You’re probably right. I was probably just tired yesterday and reading too much into things.”
“Oh, good,” she said, relief evident in her voice. “I knew you’d come around. You’re always so reasonable.”
Reasonable.
Code for manageable.
“Actually, I was thinking of stopping by later to apologize for overreacting,” I added.
“That would be wonderful, dear,” she said quickly. “Jessica will be here, too. We can clear the air.”
“Perfect,” I replied.
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