For the first time, Genevieve’s manufactured smile faltered.
Benjamin followed me into the kitchen, Genevieve behind him. Clara remained in the living room, close enough to hear everything while the adults pretended otherwise.
The BENJAMIN folder still lay on the table.
Genevieve noticed it immediately, her face sharpening.
“Marianne, whatever this stunt is, it has gotten completely out of hand,” she said softly.
I sat. My knees hurt, and I had no reason to perform strength for people who mistook patience for weakness.
Benjamin and Genevieve remained standing like impatient funeral guests.
“Sit down,” I commanded.
Genevieve refused. Benjamin finally sat, his hand trembling as he placed his cracked phone on the table.
I remembered paying that service bill too.
Receipts always say thank you.
People rarely do.
“Mother,” Benjamin began, “I know last night sounded bad, but it was just a misunderstanding.”
“It read quite clearly to me,” I replied.
