“I don’t know, but you can’t let her take everything from us.”
“No one is taking anything from you,” I said calmly. “You are simply losing something that was never yours.”
The sun had set completely. The first stars were beginning to appear in the violet sky. It was time for them to leave.
“Go,” I told them. “This house is no longer your home.”
David looked at me as if he hadn’t understood the words, as if it were impossible that his mother, the woman who had cleaned his scraped knees and prepared his favorite meals for 40 years, was telling him to leave.
“Mom, you can’t be serious.”
“I have never been more serious in my life.”
Amber approached then with the desperation of a cornered animal that made her look ugly despite all her makeup.
“Mother-in-law, think carefully. Without us, you have no one. What are you going to do when you get sick? When you need help?”
“I’m going to do the same thing I’ve always done. Solve my problems on my own.”
“But you’re 73 years old.”
“And you’re 35, but you act like you’re five. Age is no excuse for being useless.”
Amber.
Catherine had already gotten into the car, probably calculating that this battle was lost.
But she shouted from the window.
