He avoids disputes. He seldom raises his voice. He’d rather compromise than turn something into a conflict.
People always said, What a well-behaved boy. What a peaceful child. You’re so lucky, Joan.
I used to agree with them.
I don’t anymore.
Because I know where Grant learned to be calm.
He learned it from watching me.
His father’s name was Richard.
We married in 1989. I was twenty-three. He was thirty. An insurance claims adjuster. Handsome. Confident. He knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was everything a certain way.
His way.
He never hit me. I want to be clear about that. People hear what I’m about to say and think it must have been something dramatic.
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