Claire, instead of following her father, sat at the kitchen table and pleaded with my mom to tell her the truth.
Despite all that had transpired, it seemed like my mom was still very fond of her husband. She said, “It’s not my story to tell, sweetie. I’m sorry but I can’t say anything.”
Mom had strong principles. I had always known that, and I had always admired her for that. Nevertheless, I felt even more proud of my mom at that moment.
“Mom,” I called out in a serious manner, wanting to know the truth as well.
“Yes?”
“Is it the first time?” I asked, a hand resting on my hip in a demanding manner.
“First time?” She echoed, perplexed.
“Will tried to hit you,” I deadpanned. “And had I not intervened, I’m sure he would have. So tell me is it his first time?”
Her eyes darted to
