That wasn’t really an answer.
In the background, I heard Elena’s voice.
Quick.
Bright.
Julian covered the phone.
When he returned, his tone was softer.
Rehearsed.
“It would really help us out, Mom.”
That sentence had followed me through motherhood.
It would really help us out.
Could you stretch the casserole?
Could you watch the kids?
Could you host this year?
Could you sleep on the couch?
Could you let it go?
Could you please not make this uncomfortable?
I wanted to say no.
The word sat behind my teeth, clean and unfamiliar.
Instead, I said, “Let me think about it.”
Silence.
Inside it, I could feel Elena listening.
“Okay,” Julian finally said. “But they already arranged the time off, so…”
“So what?”
Another pause.
“So just let me know soon.”
The call ended.
The house became very quiet.
The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere near the gutter, a bird tapped against metal.
Sunlight still stretched across the floor as though nothing had happened.
I sat at the pale oak kitchen table I had chosen myself.
