I'm doing it because you deserve to know the truth. I handed Patricia the phone. On the screen was the photo Marcus had accidentally sent. Rachel and him at the beachside restaurant, her hand on his arm, both of them looking like a couple. Patricia stared at it, her hand trembling.
This was taken two weeks ago in the Bahamas while Rachel told us she was at a work conference in Orlando. I swiped to the next photo. This is them at the resort pool, and this is a hotel room key card charged to Marcus' credit card for a 2-way stay. Patricia passed the phone to Richard with shaking hands. He looked at each photo with the methodical care of someone cataloging evidence, his face getting redder with each swipe.
How long have you known? He asked finally. I found out the day she got back from the trip. I'd suspected for a few weeks before that, but the accidental photo confirmed everything. And you what?
You confronted her? She admitted it. Eventually, after I asked her one question that made her panic and run to a doctor's office after I laid out 6 months of evidence. Yes, she admitted everything. Patricia was crying now.
Quiet tears that spoke to deeper grief than just a failed marriage. I don't understand. Rachel's not. She wouldn't. We raised her better than this.
I thought I knew her, too, I said gently. Turns out both wrong about who she really is. Richard sat down the phone like it burned him. Does Marcus work at her company? Yes.
They've been colleagues for years. Friends first, then something more. Oh, Jesus. I'll call her boss. This is workplace misconduct.
They can't just Richard. That's your choice. But I need you to know something else first. I took a breath. The affair isn't the only thing Rachel lied about.
I told them about the birth control, about the year of fake fertility struggles, the treatments I'd undergone, the emotional torture of thinking we might never have children while she was actively preventing conception. I watched Patricia's face crumple as she understood the depth of her daughter's deception. She told us, "You were both trying so hard. " Patricia whispered. She cried on my shoulder about negative pregnancy tests. I thought I thought she wanted a baby as much as you did.
So did I. Turns out we were both part of the same performance. Richard stood up abruptly, walked to the window, stood there with his back to us. His shoulders were shaking. I need to call her.
I need to She needs to explain this. She won't be able to explain it in a way that makes sense. I've tried. I stood too, ready to leave now that the truth was out. I know this is painful.