Chapter 2

My hand was steady as I hung up the phone. I looked at the feast spread across my kitchen counter. The rib roast, perfectly browned. The fluffy mashed potatoes in their bowl. The vibrant green of the casserole. A monument to my foolishness.

For a moment, I considered throwing it all in the trash. But that would be a waste. I had worked hard for this food. I had paid for it.

So, I methodically began to pack it away. I sliced the roast and placed it in a container. I scooped the potatoes, the beans, the crab legs into separate boxes. I remembered how Noah used to pick the fried onions off the top of the casserole, one by one. I remembered how Jessica would complain that the crab wasn't fresh enough, even though I bought it from the best fish market in town. I remembered how David would eat three helpings of pie and tell me I was the best cook in the world.

Lies. All of it.

My stomach rumbled, but the thought of eating made me nauseous. The chemo had stolen my appetite, and the shock had curdled what little was left. I forced myself to take a few bites of mashed potatoes, just to have something in my system. They tasted like sand.

My phone rang again. It was David. I let it ring three times before I answered, my voice deliberately calm.

"Hello?"

"Mom! The call dropped. You okay?"

"I' m fine, David. Just tidying up the kitchen."

"Oh. Hey, sorry again about tonight. This traffic is just a nightmare. We haven' t moved an inch."

He was such a good liar. I wondered how many times he had lied to me before, and I had just believed him, my heart overflowing with love and trust.

"It' s alright," I said, my voice even. "These things happen. You just stay safe."

I heard Jessica whisper in the background, and then Noah' s voice came on the line, loud and demanding.

"Grandma! Did you get my gift?"

"Of course, sweetie. It' s right here under the tree."

"Is it the new Chronos-5 game console? The one with the hyper-drive controller?"

I looked at the large, brightly wrapped box. It had cost me over six hundred dollars. I had stood in line for two hours to get it.

"Yes, it is."

"Jessica, get him off the phone," David muttered. Then, louder, for my benefit, "Noah, say thank you to Grandma."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks," Noah said distractedly. "Jessica, can I open my presents from Grandpa Daniel now?"

The name hit me again. Grandpa Daniel.

Jessica' s voice cooed. "Of course, my angel. We' ll see Grandma tomorrow. She' ll have your big check for you then."

She was talking to her son, but the message was for me. A reminder. An emotional blackmail. For years, she had used Noah like this, a pawn in their game of getting more and more from me. Whenever I hesitated to write a check or buy an expensive toy, Jessica would sigh and say, "It' s fine. Noah will understand. He knows his grandma is on a tight budget." It always worked. The guilt would eat at me, and I would give in.

Not anymore.

"You have a wonderful time, David," I said, my voice cool. "I' ll see you tomorrow."

I hung up before he could reply.

I walked over to the Christmas tree. The lights twinkled, mocking the festive spirit I no longer felt. I saw the pile of gifts. One was a small, beautifully wrapped box for me, from me. It was a tradition I started after the divorce, a way to make sure I always had at least one thing I truly wanted. I opened it. A simple, elegant silver locket.

Next to it was a large, gaudy gift bag from me to Jessica. I pulled out the contents. A full set of La Mer skincare. I had seen her eyeing it in a magazine, complaining about how expensive it was. It had cost me a small fortune.

I looked at the jars of cream and serum in my hand. Then I looked at my reflection in the dark glass of the oven door. My face was pale, my skin dry from the treatments. My hands were rough from a lifetime of work.

I never bought things like this for myself. I always thought the money was better spent on David. On his education, his house, his family.

I walked into the bathroom, opened the most expensive jar-the Crème de la Mer-and unscrewed the lid. The cream was thick and luxurious. I scooped a generous amount onto my fingers and began to smooth it onto my face. It felt cool and soothing. It felt like rebellion.

Then I went to my desk. I took out the crisp bank envelope that held the Christmas checks. I had written one out for David and Jessica for ten thousand dollars, and one for Noah for two thousand. It was what they expected. What they felt they were owed.

I tore them up.

I took out three new checks. I wrote one for David and Jessica. For one hundred dollars. I wrote one for Noah. For fifty dollars. And I wrote one for me. For the remaining eleven thousand, eight hundred and fifty dollars.

I could already picture Jessica' s face tomorrow. The forced smile twitching, the barely concealed rage in her eyes. She would probably pull David into the other room and hiss at him, demanding he fix it.

Let her. Let them rage. They had no power over me anymore. The fear of their disapproval, the desperate need for their love, it was all gone. All that was left was a cold, quiet calm.