A month earlier, I would have spent the rest of the conversation proving I was useful enough to love.
Now I simply said, “Goodbye, Michael.”
“Mom—”
I ended the call.
My hand shook afterward.
Boundaries, I discovered, did not feel powerful while you were making them.
Mostly they felt terrible.
—
Jennifer called that afternoon.
I nearly didn’t answer.
Then I decided I wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Barbara.”
“Jennifer.”
“You canceled the transfer.”
“Yes.”
“How could you do that without warning us?”
I looked around my quiet living room.
“You told me I did not fit in without warning.”
She made an impatient sound.
“So this is retaliation.”
“No.”
“Please stop saying that. Obviously it is.”
“Would you like to know why I started paying your mortgage?”
“We know why.”
“Tell me.”
Silence.
“Michael’s business was struggling.”
“Yes.”
“And we had the children.”
“Yes.”
“And you offered.”
“I offered six months.”
Jennifer paused.
I continued.
“You asked me to extend it because Michael was waiting on a contract.”
“That contract fell through.”
“I know.”
“And then inflation—”
“I know.”
“And childcare—”
