I nod, then say, “Maybe we should all sit down?”
“Well…of course. Let’s do that,” she says, leading us over to a sunroom off the kitchen. Hannah and I sit next to each other on a love seat while her parents opt for chairs across from us.
“So,” Mrs. Davis says, staring at me. “How is Grady holding up?”
“Not so good, Mrs. Davis,” I say. “Not so good.”
“Yes. He sounded awful when I spoke to him, too. He just cannot understand why Hannah would make such terrible accusations—” She shoots her daughter a look.
“Hmm,” I say, nodding. “Well, you may want to check back in with him. I think his story may have changed since you and he spoke.”
“Oh? And why would that be?” Mrs. Davis asks.
“Because he knows that I know the truth about what he did. That’s why.”
Hannah’s father stares at me, slack-jawed, clearly trying—and failing—to keep up.
“Did he tell you what he did to Hannah, Mrs. Davis?” I ask.
“No. But he told me that Hannah has a male visitor in town this weekend,” she says, making a sour face.
“What?” Hannah says. “Is that what Grady told you? That I had a ‘male visitor’?”
“Well? Is he wrong? Isn’t Tyson a male?”
“C’mon, Mom! You know he’s my friend. Lainey and Tyson are my best friends.”
“Nobody’s worried about Lainey,” Mrs. Davis says.
“Nobody should be worried about either of them!” Hannah says, getting more upset by the second. “We’re all just friends, Mom, and you know it. Grady knows it, too! This is absurd!”
“Well, you have to admit that the optics aren’t great.”
“Optics? What are you talking about?”
“Your male friend just happens to be in town—and at dinner with you—when you break off your engagement, completely out of the blue? You have to admit that doesn’t look good, Hannah.”
“Mom! I came over here to tell you that Grady cheated on me! My two best friends came to town because he cheated on me. You have the order wrong! You have everything wrong!” Hannah says, bursting into tears.
I wait for Mrs. Davis to have an “aha” moment. Realize that Grady manipulated her and she jumped to the wrong conclusion. At the very least, find it within her heart to comfort her clearly distraught daughter.
Instead, she gives Hannah a steely look, then says, “Grady denies any wrongdoing. He seems to think you’re the one manipulating the truth.”
“Mom!” Hannah says with the most anguished expression. “How can you believe him over me?” She lets out a loud sob.
Mrs. Davis stiffens, then blinks. “Hannah, please. Calm down. Pull yourself together.”
“I can’t, Mom. Not if you’re on his side—”
“I’m not on his side,” she says. “I’m only trying to understand. That’s all. I just have some questions….”
I reach over and rest my hand on Hannah’s leg as she wipes her face with her sleeve and takes a gulp of air.
“Okay, Mom. What’s your question?” she asks.
Mrs. Davis pauses, then says, “Where is your friend staying while he’s in town?”
I know what she’s getting at, and the question is unbelievable—even for her.
“What do you mean?” Hannah asks.
“Did Tyson get a hotel room?” Mrs. Davis asks. “Or is he staying with you?”
“Mom! Are you seriously asking me that? I can’t even believe you—”
I cut in, enraged. “I can answer that for you, Mrs. Davis,” I say, my voice low and measured. “Tyson slept on Hannah’s couch. I slept in her bed with her. As Hannah explained, this weekend wasn’t planned in advance. It was a last-minute emergency visit after Grady cheated on Hannah. He’s blatantly twisting the facts—lying—and it’s very surprising that you’d believe him over Hannah.”
Mrs. Davis nods, bites her lip, and says, “Be that as it may, the optics—”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Davis,” I say, though she deserves zero respect, “if you truly cared about your daughter, I’m not sure you’d be focused on optics right now. But if you insist—what about the optics of Grady being in bed with another woman? The bed that Hannah just bought for their new house, which was supposed to be their marital home?”
Mr. Davis makes a groaning sound—his first contribution to the entire conversation, but I don’t take my eyes off Hannah’s mother. A staring contest ensues—one that I win.
“So,” she says in an ice-cold voice, turning to Hannah. “You’re not willing to forgive him?”
“Ruth,” Mr. Davis says under his breath. “Some things aren’t forgivable.”
“Our pastor would beg to differ,” she snaps back at her husband. “Forgive our debtors. That’s what it means to be Christian.”
