My mother whispered, “Tessa, stop.”
Tessa laughed bitterly.
“Oh, now you care?”
My mother went silent.
I reached for my purse.
“You’re right about one thing,” I told Tessa.
She waited.
“I did sit there.”
My voice shook, but I kept going.
“I sat there at Milo’s baby shower.
I sat there at birthdays.
I sat there tonight.
I kept thinking that if I stayed calm enough, nobody could accuse me of ruining anything.”
Nobody interrupted.
“But all that did was teach everyone that humiliating me was free.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I looked at her next.
Her eyes filled instantly.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
I believed she meant it.
That didn’t erase anything.
“You laughed,” I said.
She nodded once.
“I know.”
There was no excuse after that, which was probably the first useful thing she could have given me.
At the kids’ table, Milo looked up and noticed me standing.
He raised his drawing proudly.
“Mom! Look!”
The sound of his voice broke the tension in my chest.
I walked over to him.
His spaceship had three enormous windows and flames coming out of the wrong side.
“It’s fast,”
he explained.
“I can tell.”
“Are we leaving?”
“Yes.”
He hopped down and began gathering his crayons.
Behind me, Tessa was crying now.
Not quietly.
She accused Dylan of embarrassing her in front of everyone.
She accused her parents of turning against her.
She accused the family of hypocrisy because they had laughed too.
On that last point, nobody could really argue.
Uncle Reuben muttered that things had gotten out of hand.
Aunt Valerie snapped, “They got out of hand when you called her used goods.”
Reuben stared at her in disbelief.
It was strange watching people discover courage only after someone else had gone first.
Dylan picked up his jacket.
Tessa saw him.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“We live together.”
“I’ll stay with my brother tonight.
We’ll sort out the apartment tomorrow.”
The practicality of that sentence seemed to make the situation real in a way everything else had not.
Tessa sank into her chair.
