I carried the first suitcase downstairs.
The dining room was still silent.
Twenty-two relatives remained around the table, but the Christmas dinner had stopped feeling like Christmas.
Nobody was eating.
Nobody was drinking.
Even the children seemed to understand that something irreversible had happened.
Daniel stood near the fireplace.
Melissa sat with her arms folded.
When she saw my suitcases, she gave a short laugh.
“You're actually doing this?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stepped toward me.
“Mom, don't be ridiculous.”
I stopped.
Ten minutes earlier, I had been a burden who needed to pay rent or leave.
Now that I was leaving, apparently I was ridiculous.
“You asked me to go.”
“I said you needed to contribute.”
I looked at him.
“Then perhaps we should discuss contributions.”
His expression changed.
Melissa immediately stood.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I didn't answer her.
I reached into my purse and removed my phone.
Daniel's eyes followed it.
“Mom.”
I unlocked the screen.
“What are you doing?”
“Online banking.”
Melissa laughed.
The sound was sharp.
Nervous.
“I thought you couldn't use it without Daniel.”
I looked at her.
“I said I preferred having help.”
Then I tapped the screen.
“That isn't the same as being incapable.”
Her smile vanished.
Daniel moved closer.
“Mom, wait.”
I looked up.
That was the first time all evening he had asked me to wait.
Interesting what a little financial uncertainty could accomplish.
“What?”
“Don't do anything stupid because you're upset.”
There it was again.
The assumption that age and emotion made me incompetent whenever my decisions stopped benefiting him.
“I am not upset.”
That wasn't entirely true.
I was devastated.
But devastation and confusion are not the same thing.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
