by Marlie May
We entered our apartment, where I dropped the pizza box onto the coffee table and hung our coats on the pegboard.
Brr. Goosebumps flashed up my arms. Why was it so cold in here? Growing up in Maine should’ve made me immune to freezing winter weather, but I already missed the sultry days in California. In an attempt to mimic some of that warmth, I’d turned up the thermostat before we left. It should’ve been toasty when we returned.
I strode to the wall and tapped the dial. Something rumbled in the basement, and the radiators hissed in retaliation. The darn furnace hadn’t run right since I’d bought the place. Good thing a repair crew was coming to look at it tomorrow.
My phone rang. When I slipped it from my pocket and stared down at the number, I couldn’t hold back my groan. But the smile I’d pressed onto my face whenever I interacted with my mother-in-law settled into place with practiced ease. “Bethany. How are you? How’s John?”
“Oh, you know. We’re doing the best we can.” Bethany sniffled. “Somedays, it’s a struggle to get out of bed in the morning. And I can’t walk past your old place without crying.”
As an only child, family had been important to Jason. After we married, my in-laws bought a house a few blocks from ours and Jason insisted we spend our free time together. Card games on Friday night. A movie with popcorn on Saturday. And let us not forget the combined vacations. I mean, I got along well enough with Bethany and John, and I’d wanted to please them and my husband. But we did everything together. Jason’s mother had even insisted I learn how to prepare Jason’s favorite foods, which, to my embarrassment, she tasted and rated on a scale of one to ten. With a culinary arts degree, a ten should’ve been my norm, but not for Bethany. She seemed to take great satisfaction in giving me threes.
Losing Jason had ripped them apart, but suppressing myself to please them had nearly crushed me.
“How’s Arie?” Bethany asked through the phone.
“Great. She starts school tomorrow. We met her teacher on Friday.”
“I wish…”
I knew what she wished. That we’d stayed in California, where she could keep a tight rein on me. But as hard as I’d tried to mold myself into what she needed, I couldn’t play that game any longer. If I hadn’t run, she would’ve sucked away every last bit of my identity.
“Before I speak with my granddaughter, I have excellent news,” Bethany said. “That colonial house next door went on the market. Of course, I called right away and put a deposit on it. I’ll get in touch with the movers tomorrow.”
Movers? I pinched my brow and tried to sound normal, even though I wanted to shriek. “Excuse me?”
“You’re coming home.” No mistaking the sharpness in Bethany’s voice. Sometimes, I heard it in my sleep. “Your silly adventure in Maine is over.”
Silly adventure. I blinked back the sting in my eyes. Why couldn’t she understand how important this was to me?
That trapped feeling I’d lived with since marrying Jason poured through me all over again. Panic edged into my voice. “I just moved home. I bought a building. I’m renovating.” Wind had barely begun to fill my wings.
“Sell it.” The steel I’d associated with Jason came through in Bethany’s voice. The Stillmans bred true. “Arie needs to be here, with her grandparents.”
“What about my dad?” I whispered. “He’s a grandparent, too. Over the past five years, he’s only seen Arie twice. Once after she was born and two years later when he came out to visit. Dad was a lobsterman. If he didn’t work, he didn’t have money. A man couldn’t get to know his only grandchild through photos.
“You know she loves us. Misses us.”
“She does.” Despite how they treated me, it was clear my in-laws loved Arie as much as they had Jason. But still… Please. Let me live my own life. “I want to give this a chance.”
“You’ll fail,” Bethany said sharply.
There she went again, tightening the cord around my neck. My confidence fading, I could barely force out the words. “I deserve this.”
“We deserve to see our only grandchild on a regular basis. It’s our legal right.”
Legal? I shook my head, pushing the word from my mind. “You’re flying here this summer to see her.”
“It’s not enough.”
I almost caved and said I’d put my building on the market. That I’d move back to California, settle into the house next door, and pick up my dictated life as if I’d never left it. But I couldn’t do it.
From somewhere deep inside, I found some resolve. “It will be enough. You’ll see.”
Bethany’s whimpers turned into weeping. I knew her body shook and that John would be putting his arm around her shoulders.
My breath came out in sharp gasps. I’d been a wreck after I stood up for myself and told them I was moving home, and I felt the exact same way now. But if I didn’t show some spine, I never would. I needed to find myself again, not live a life controlled by my in-laws.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” I pushed the words out. “You’ll see.” And, because I couldn’t handle this confrontation any longer, I said, “You want to talk to Arie?”
“We’re not finished discussing this, Cara.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“The house!” Bethany’s anger charged through the phone like a slap, and I flinched. “We’ll lose the deposit.”
“I can’t move back.” I dragged the words from deep inside me, where a solitary spark flickered. “Talk to your lawyers.” She had a fleet of them on call 24-7. “They’ll be able to get your deposit back.” Lowering the phone, I crossed to where Arie sat on the sofa, watching TV. “Sweetie. It’s your grannie.”
Arie reached for the phone. “Grannie!”
While they talked, I rushed into the kitchen and splashed water on my face. So much for feeling cold. Now, my body flamed. Clenching the edge of the sink, I took long, deep breaths and pushed out my frustration with each exhale. In no time, I’d suppressed my irritation. A skill I’d mastered after considerable practice.
I returned to the living room as Arie hung up, grateful Bethany hadn’t insisted on speaking to me again.
If I knew my mother-in-law, this was nowhere near over. She’d call, again and again, wearing me down until I gave in solely to get her to stop. Somehow, I’d have to find the will to hold onto my dreams.
“Time to eat.” Arie flipped open the lid of the pizza box.
“Dining room,” I said in a shaky voice, pointing in that direction.
“Mommy,” she said, long-suffering.
“Mommy,” I said, using the same tone, and we laughed. Nothing cheered me up more than letting fun back in. I needed to do it more often.
“Dad eats—used to eat in the living room.”
Hard to believe Arie might not always remember everything Jason had done. She was old enough to miss her father for a while, but was she old enough to hold onto the good memories forever?
For that matter, could I?
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All the best,
Marlie
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