The repairs.
Everything.
My name was still on the deed.
Yet Melissa was explaining where I was permitted to spend Christmas.
I waited for anger.
It never came.
Something colder arrived instead.
Clarity.
Suddenly, every excuse I had made during the previous months sounded ridiculous.
Daniel is busy.
Melissa is stressed.
They’re only staying temporarily.
Young couples need privacy.
Family makes adjustments.
I had made adjustment after adjustment until I was the only person being adjusted out of my own life.
I folded the dish towel in my hands.
Placed it beside the sink.
Then untied my apron.
Melissa watched me.
“Evelyn?”
I slipped the apron over my head.
“What are you doing?”
I didn’t answer.
I walked past her.
Not upstairs.
Into the dining room.
The table was beautiful.
Of course it was.
I had made it beautiful.
Twelve settings of my good china.
Crystal glasses.
Brass reindeer.
Candles waiting to be lit.
Silverware polished before dawn.
At the head of the table stood Howard’s chair.
Empty for six Christmases.
I walked toward it.
Then I noticed the place cards.
Melissa had arranged them the previous evening.
Her parents.
