Chapter 2 - You're Taking Her Away From Me
"You're taking my granddaughter away from me."
Mom said it like I had announced a kidnapping.
I stared at her from across the living room, Lily warm against my chest.
"No," I said. "I'm taking my daughter home."
Carol shoved back her chair. "Because I made one comment?"
"Because you've spent my entire life turning insults into comments and then making me apologize for being hurt."
"That is ridiculous."
"Is it?"
Evan came beside me and lifted the diaper bag from the floor. He did not touch my arm or tell me to calm down. He simply stood there, solid and quiet, which was exactly what I needed.
Dad moved toward us. "Nobody needs to leave angry."
I almost laughed.
"Dad, I left angry years ago. I just kept coming back."
His face fell.
Mom pointed toward Lily. "She is too small, Rachel. Everybody can see it. I am allowed to worry."
Jenna stood now too.
"Carol," she said, "I held Lily for an hour. She was smiling, babbling, eating crackers, pulling my earrings. She looks fine."
Mom snapped her head toward her. "I wasn't asking you."
Mark finally looked up. "Mom. Stop."
Carol stared at her son like he had switched languages. "Excuse me?"
"Rachel said stop. So stop."
For the first time, the family script had changed.
Mom saw it too.
Her eyes filled suddenly.
"Fine," she whispered. "I guess I'm just the horrible mother now. After everything I've done for this family."
There it was.
The trap door.
Usually I fell through it.
This time I opened the front door.
Cold December air swept into the hall.
"Merry Christmas," I said.
"Rachel, wait. Please."
I turned.
"Just tell me what you want me to say."
I looked at her.
"If I have to write your apology for you, it isn't an apology."
We walked to the car.
As Evan buckled Lily into her seat, my phone began vibrating inside my purse.
Once.
Twice.
Then over and over.
By the time we reached the end of my parents' street, there were seventeen messages.
The first was from my mother.
The second was from my aunt.
May you like
The third was from a cousin I had not spoken to in six months.
And the fourth made me realize Mom had started fighting before we even left the driveway.
