That was the beginning of a different kind of life.
I stopped calling Eric for mercy.
My lawyer contacted him when necessary.
I organized documents.
Two weeks later, Eric received formal paperwork.
His first response came by text.
You’ve lost your mind.
I forwarded it to my lawyer.
Then another message.
My mother is turning you against me.
Forwarded.
A few days later, Barbara called.
“Tessa knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Enough.”
The next time Eric called his mother, Tessa could be heard in the background.
“You told me Claire left you!”
Then another accusation followed.
“You said this house belonged to you!”
And then:
“You said the baby didn’t need anything!”
Barbara pulled the phone away from her ear.
“I think he is having an uncomfortable evening.”
For the first time in weeks, I smiled.
Not because Tessa was upset.
Because Eric’s stories had finally collided.
He had told one version to his mother, another to Tessa, and another to himself.
