Chapter 5 - The Friday Night Setup
On Friday afternoon, I called my mother.
"Mom," I said, making my voice sound tired, broken, and apologetic. "Dan and I have been talking all week. He... he wants to talk to you and Dad tonight. He says he wants to apologize for what happened at the birthday dinner and clear the air."
On the other end of the line, I heard my mother let out a massive, audible sigh of relief.
"Oh, Molly, thank God," she breathed out, her tone instantly becoming light and optimistic. "I knew Dan would come to his senses. Your father has been so stressed all week, sweetheart. He barely ate his lunch yesterday. We’ll be there at six-thirty."
"Thank you, Mom," I said softly. "See you at six-thirty."
When I hung up the phone, I felt a cold knot form in the pit of my stomach.
By five o'clock, Dan had returned home from work. He took a shower, put on a clean button-down shirt, and helped me set the dining room table.
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We didn't cook a fancy meal. We set out two carafes of water, four empty glasses, and in the center of the table—right where a centerpiece would normally sit—I placed a sleek, black leather binder.
Inside that binder were three distinct sections:
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