“You’re supporting this?”
Ethan glanced at me.
Then said:
“I’m supporting my wife.”
I almost cried.
Not because the sentence was dramatic.
Because it had taken years for him to say it that simply.
Marlene stood.
“I cannot believe this selfishness.”
Ethan replied calmly:
“Mom, Claire has paid for and prepared nearly every gathering here.”
“We are guests!”
“You invite yourself.”
Marlene gasped like he had slapped her.
Within an hour—
they were packing the cars.
No one bought meat.
No one offered money.
No one even stayed for the sandwiches.
MARLENE’S FINAL SHOT
Before getting into her car, she turned toward me.
“You’ve turned my son against his family.”
I smiled.
“No.”
She glared.
“I hope you’re happy.”
I waved.
“I’m getting there.”
Three cars disappeared down the dusty road.
I looked at Ethan.
He looked at me.
Then we both started laughing.
THE NEXT MORNING
