***
On Saturday, I arrived with a store-bought pie.
I almost refused.
Aunt Carol, Uncle Ron, and our cousin Beth were already seated.
Mom gave me a wounded nod.
When Marcus asked how I was doing, I felt the familiar urge to make a joke.
“I miss Laura,” I said instead.
“Then she shouldn’t have left,” Mom said. “Posting that video to humiliate me, then walking out…”
“I miss Laura,”
“Pregnancy can make people sensitive,” Aunt Carol offered.
“This isn’t about hormones!” I set down my fork.
“I heard what you said every time, Mom.”
Mom dabbed at her lips with a napkin.
“At Easter. After the soup,” I continued. “On my birthday, when you told her she’d never learn. I heard you.”
“This isn’t about hormones!”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Let him finish, Mom,” Marcus said.
His wife, Dakota, took his hand.
I looked at the others.
“You all saw a shortened clip. The longer version shows me laughing Mom’s remarks off. Telling my wife to ignore it. Thanking her because she’d finally made Mom happy.”
