Then she said, “I was feeding your grandchildren.”
“They had food.”
“You always make me sound like a terrible mother.”
“I’m talking about what you did to me.”
Jessica’s voice sharpened.
“If you want an apology, fine. I’m sorry dinner wasn’t perfect.”
Nancy felt the old instinct to accept it, to soften the moment before someone withdrew.
She let the instinct pass.
“That doesn’t address what happened.”
“What do you want from me?”
“For you to say you took my meal and spoke cruelly to me, and that you won’t do it again.”
A long silence followed.
“I’m not reciting something you wrote.”
“Then we’re finished for tonight.”
Nancy ended the call with both hands trembling.
She sat until they stopped.
Over the next month, Brian began seeing a counselor. He went first on his own, then asked Jessica to attend with him.
She agreed after he said the marriage could not continue as it was.
Nancy knew only that much. When Brian started describing an argument in detail, she stopped him.
“I can listen as your mother. I can’t become the place you bring every fight.”
He apologized and changed the subject.
They talked about her leaking kitchen faucet. He asked before coming over to repair it.
She said Saturday would work.
For the first time in years, a visit went into her calendar without a question mark beside it.
Jessica attended two counseling appointments.
After the second, she asked for a meeting with Nancy and Brian while the children stayed with a sitter.
Nancy chose her own kitchen. She wanted to be somewhere she would not have to leave.
Jessica arrived with her handbag held firmly against her side.
Brian sat beside her, facing Nancy.
“I’m willing to move on,” Jessica began.
Nancy folded her hands.
“What are we moving on from?”
Jessica looked at Brian.
“This is what I mean.”
He stayed quiet.
Nancy waited.
Jessica set the handbag on the floor.
“I shouldn’t have made the joke.”
“The bread wasn’t a joke.”
“All right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
