The Right Words by Meg Rosenthal

Author:Meg Rosenthal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Warren Publishing
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Ethan had been the first to find my dad lying on the floor of his study. It was a small room, nothing compared to the sunroom he currently used as an office. It was actually the dining room of our old house that he had taken over and converted into his personal workshop, much to my mother’s dismay. Sticky notes were scattered on every wall; many others were crumpled into tiny balls on the carpet.

My mom left us prior to the heart attack. She said it was time for a change. This wasn’t working for her anymore. And my personal favorite, “It’s not all your fault, Sam. I’ve just always felt that I was meant for more.”

She packed her things and walked away. It was funny how much she chose to leave behind. Almost all of the pictures and memories remained in their frames for my dad to gently stow away later that year when we moved.

No one knew it—not Ethan, not my dad—but I kept a family candid from years ago. Ethan was probably seven, and I was four. We were having a picnic, a real-life picnic, up on the iconic Blowing Rock trail. My dad took the selfie of all of us with his flip phone and had it printed at the drug store. The result was a grainy close-up on my dad’s receding hairline with the trio of us in the background. Ethan was hanging off of my mom’s shoulders as she sat, and I was bouncing in her lap.

Although I hadn’t looked at it in years, I knew the photo remained tucked in the bottom drawer of my dresser in this house.

It wasn’t until an envelope arrived in our mailbox, two weeks after my mom’s departure, that we found out the depth of her reasoning for leaving all those photos.

Dear Sam … the husband is always the last to know … your wife has been having an affair with Joshua Reynolds for the past six months …

There had been no return address and no name on the letter. To this day, my dad never found out who sent the note.

Ethan and I only found the letter because it was on my dad’s desk, on top of the mess of manuscript pages he was editing when he opened it. That was when the heart attack that had been building in his system finally hit.

During the short interval between my mom walking out the door and the arrival of the letter, my dad had been all consumed with finishing the book.

“I’ve got to know that I can do it,” he said to me late one night, not entirely coherent. “I’ve got to know that I didn’t lose her for nothing.”

He rarely slept and when he did, it was an hour here or an hour there for those two weeks. It was summer, so there wasn’t school to worry about. Ethan and I were mildly concerned about our dad’s erratic behavior, but Jack kept us well fed at the diner and the walk there was good exercise anyway.

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