“No,” Tina said. “Because you’re the reason he ran away in the first place.”
“I’ve already told you, my secretary didn’t remind me!”
“She shouldn’t have to remind you.”
“You try it!” Kent Buckley said. “You try working as hard as I do and see if you can remember every tiny piece of minutiae!”
But Tina was shaking her head. “This wasn’t minutiae,” she said. “This was your son’s birthday. It was a trip you’d rescheduled three other times. He never complained. Every time something came up, he forgave you. But this time…” She shook her head like she was too angry to even keep talking. “No more.”
But Kent Buckley wasn’t really one to take criticism. Right? He wasn’t just going to sign up for personal growth. He wasn’t going to have an epiphany right here on this beach that he’d ignored all true sources of nourishment in his life in the relentless pursuit of status.
No. He was going to attack back.
“And what kind of mother are you?” he demanded. “This child has literally been out all night. He’s wet, he’s half-unconscious. He should be home in his bed, fast asleep. And yet here you sit, in a beach chair, like it’s some kind of all-night party.”
Then Kent, who, I suddenly noted, had not apologized to Clay for forgetting him in the first place, reached his hand out to Clay and said, “Come on, son. Time to go.”
But Clay just blinked up at him for a second. Then he shook his head and said, “No. I need to stay.”
Friendly hadn’t worked, so Kent Buckley shifted to mean: “Get over here. Right now.”
But Clay shook his head. Then he climbed out of Tina’s lap, and stood to face his dad, looking so young and so small. “No,” Clay said.
And then we all watched as Kent Buckley leaned over his nine-year-old son and hissed, “Come with me. Or I’ll make sure you regret it.”
But Clay, steady and calm, said, “They need me, and I’m staying.”
It was a hell of a David and Goliath moment. I guess once you’ve befriended a whale, humans don’t seem quite so scary anymore.
And that’s when Tina got up and stepped forward.
“He wants to be here. He doesn’t want to go with you. And I’m not going to make him.”
“You will make him, if you know what’s good for you.”
“And guess what else I’m not going to do?” Tina said, standing up taller and moving toward him. “I’m not going to let you sell my parents’ school.”
“You don’t get to ‘let me’ do anything.”
“Are you really going to fight me?” Tina said, stepping closer. “Because I think you’re forgetting something.”
Kent Buckley’s face said, Oh, yeah? “What would that be?”
Very deliberately, like she was saying much more than she was saying, Tina said, “I know all your secrets.”
Kent Buckley’s face froze.
Tina went on. “I’ve let a lot of things go. I’ve looked the other way, and put up with your demands, and kept quiet. Mostly, I did it for Clay. I did it because I thought he needed a father. But you know what? He doesn’t just need any father. He needs a good father. And I’ve tried so hard for so long not to believe it, but you’re not a good father.” She shook her head and then said it again, like the act of saying it was empowering. “You’re a terrible father. And you’re a terrible husband. And you’re a terrible person. My dad was the kind of person who made everything better … but you make everything worse. I didn’t want to know that about you. I didn’t want it to be true. But the truth is, Clay would be a hundred times better off without you. And so would I. Now that I see that … I can’t not see it. That’s it. I’ve backed down from you a thousand times, but that’s not going to happen today.”
Kent Buckley’s tone shifted then, as he realized he needed to manage her a different way. “Look, it’s been a long day. Let’s go home, get a good night’s sleep, and talk it all out in the morning.”
He sounded suddenly so reasonable. I had a flash of worry that Tina might fold.
But then she said, “No.” Then she shook her head. Tina said, “I want a divorce.”
Let’s just say it was a statement that wasn’t going to go down easy with Kent Buckley. He stood up straighter. He took a step closer. And then he shouted, “You bitch!”