Chapter 12 - Vaughn’s Part
My father asked to speak alone.
We sat in his study.
The same room he had walked out of while Ione was on the floor.
He looked smaller there.
“I thought chores were good for her.”
“They are.”
He looked up.
That surprised him.
“Ione should have chores.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are we fighting about?”
“Consent. Proportion. Humiliation.”
He nodded slowly.
“I knew Marjorie had her cleaning.”
“How much?”
“Dishes. Towels. Floors once.”
“You knew floors.”
“I thought mop.”
There.
“And you never asked.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother and I have been married forty-two years.”
Not answer.
He knew.
“She runs the house.”
There.
“When she says she’s handling something, I don’t inspect.”
“And when the thing is my child?”
He closed eyes.
“I should have.”
Yes.
Then:
“Why did you search her purse?”
He had not randomly invaded privacy.
Marjorie told Vaughn she planned:
“a surprise trip.”
He asked where.
She refused.
Then at 6:20 she asked him whether airport traffic was heavy.
He became suspicious.
Saw her purse open.
Passport visible.
He pulled it.
Then itinerary.
Marjorie accused him of snooping.
He had.
In context, it exposed immediate risk.
Still:
Family privacy had collapsed in both directions.
May you like
The problem was already far beyond ordinary marriage etiquette.
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