Chapter 3

I didn' t sleep. The pain in my abdomen was a dull, constant throb, a reminder of the clock ticking inside me. But it was the other pain, the one in my chest, that kept me awake. I replayed their words over and over in my head until the sun rose, painting the sky in shades of gray and pink.

They arrived just before ten, all smiles and fake apologies.

"Mom, I am so, so sorry about last night! You wouldn' t believe the traffic," David said, giving me a quick, one-armed hug. He smelled faintly of expensive cologne and wine.

Jessica followed, a bright, false smile plastered on her face. "Sarah, you poor thing. We felt just awful leaving you all alone."

Noah, however, had no time for pleasantries. He ran right past me to the tree.

"Where is it? Where' s my Chronos-5?"

"Noah!" Jessica scolded lightly, but her eyes were twinkling with indulgence. "What do you say to Grandma first?"

"Merry Christmas! Now, where' s my present?"

David handed him the large box. Noah ripped it open with a squeal of delight, not even glancing at the other, smaller gifts with his name on them.

David then handed me a small, flimsy gift bag. "Merry Christmas, Mom."

I opened it. Inside was a scarf made of cheap acrylic, the kind you find in a discount bin. It was an ugly shade of mustard yellow. I knew instantly that Jessica had picked it out. It was an insult disguised as a gift.

"Thank you," I said, my voice flat. I placed it on the table, next to the beautiful silk scarf my best friend, Emily, had given me last week. The contrast was stark.

Then came the moment they were all waiting for.

"Alright, time for the Christmas checks!" I announced, trying to keep my voice light.

Noah ran over, his hand outstretched. "Me first, Grandma!"

I handed him his envelope. He tore it open, his eyes scanning the number. His face fell. "Fifty dollars? That' s it? That won' t even buy a new game."

Jessica' s smile froze. She snatched the envelope from her son' s hand to see for herself. Her eyes widened, and she shot a sharp, furious look at David. He took the envelope I held out to him, his brow furrowed. He opened it, saw the one-hundred-dollar check, and his jaw tightened.

He and Jessica exchanged a look. It was a quick, silent conversation. What is this? What' s she doing? You handle it.

Just then, Noah, who had wandered into my bathroom, let out a shout. "Hey! This is mine!"

We all turned. He was standing in the doorway, holding the open jar of La Mer cream.

"Grandma, you opened my mom' s present!" he accused, his lower lip trembling.

I walked over to him and gently took the jar from his hand. "This isn' t your mom' s present, Noah. This is mine."

"No, it' s not!" he wailed, trying to grab it back. "Mom said you were getting it for her! It' s expensive! You' re not supposed to use stuff this nice!"

The words, so clearly parroted from his mother, hung in the air.

Jessica rushed over. "Noah, sweetie, it' s okay." Then she turned to me, her voice dripping with condescension. "Sarah, really. You know I was hoping for that. And it' s a bit much for you, don' t you think? At your age, what' s the point?"

The cruelty was breathtaking.

"I bought it with my money," I said calmly. "I can use it if I want to."

"But you were supposed to give it to me!" Noah shrieked, his face turning red. He lunged forward and tried to snatch the jar, scratching my hand with his fingernails.

"Noah, stop it!" David finally said, pulling his son back.

"She started it!" Noah screamed. "She' s being selfish!"

"It' s fine, David," Jessica said, stroking her son' s hair. She gave me a look of pure venom. "But maybe we should just go. Clearly, your mother is in a bit of a mood today."

They started gathering their things. The cheap scarf was left on the table.

"Are you angry, Mom?" David asked, his voice low as Jessica took Noah out to the car. "Is this about last night?"

"Why would I be angry, David?" I asked, looking him straight in the eye. "You were stuck in traffic."

He had the grace to look away. "Look, I know things have been... tense. With Jessica. But she' s just trying to look out for us. For our future. You know, my business, it' s at a critical stage. I have to network. I have to be seen at these events with my father."

"Your father," I repeated softly. "You mean Daniel."

"He can open doors for me, Mom! Doors you could never open. Is it so wrong that I want to connect with him? That I want a relationship with him?"

"No," I said. "It' s not wrong."

"Then why are you acting like this? It' s because you resent him, and you resent me for wanting to be close to him!" His voice rose, filled with the same resentment I' d heard over the phone. "You were the one who kept me from him all these years! You were the one who made me grow up in this tiny house while he was living in a mansion! You were selfish!"

The accusation, spoken to my face, stole the air from my lungs.

"I was selfish?" I whispered, the words barely audible.

"Yes!" he cried, his face twisted in a mask of childish anger. "You held me back! My whole life could have been different, better! Don' t you understand? I' m finally getting a chance to have the life I was supposed to have. Please, Mom. Just for once, don' t stand in my way."