For as much as Kat wanted to understand her mother, she never could. The journals weren’t doing much except to make Kat wonder what happened to Evie between reckless youth and … Kat.
June 12, 1990 My sweet Kat turns five years old tomorrow. I hardly know what to do with her. I want to protect her from the world. I don’t want her to know the evil that can lie within the most trusted of confidantes. I want her to always obey me because I am her mother. That is sure to be short lived.
Even at her tender age she does things that irritate and disobey me.
This must be what my mother felt about me. I don’t understand how a child can come from within a mother and be so vastly different. I want to love her the way you’re supposed to love a child.
Oh, Kat, you challenge me.
Kat closes the journal and looks up with tears in her eyes.
What does Mother mean by ‘wanting to love her the way you’re supposed to love a child?’
Was that the problem all along? It wasn’t about Kat misbehaving. It wasn’t about Evie thinking – and saying – that Kat loved Jack more than her.
Kat processes her mother in a logical, fast-forward mode.
The chasm between Kat and her mother closes quickly.
It wasn’t about Kat.
It wasn’t about Jack.
It wasn’t about Evie and her parents.
It was never about anyone except Evie.
That was the real tragedy.
The tragedy was Evie and her narcissism.