Chapter 2

I changed my shoes and placed my prenatal record in the cabinet by the door.

"He called me names at the kindergarten gate today," I said.

Aurora frowned. "What could a kid even say to you?"

I looked at her. "He said I looked like a fat pig."

Aurora's face stiffened for a moment.

It was only a split second.

But I caught it.

She knew.

At the very least, she'd heard those kinds of words before.

Sure enough, the next second, she tried to smooth things over.

"Kids don't know what they're saying. He must've picked it up from a cartoon," she said.

"He said Calvin told him that," I said.

Aurora's face instantly soured. "Don't blame everything on Calvin.

"He's slammed at work every day. He wouldn't even have time to teach Mike to say things like that."

I asked, "What about Caroline?"

The living room went quiet.

The TV was still playing.

None of us said a word.

Caroline Cooper was the administrative director at Calvin's company.

She was twenty-six, always wore white dresses, and always spoke softly.

Last month, she came over to drop off some documents and brought Mike a Lego set.

Mike was thrilled all night.

I even joked, "Caroline sure knows how to make kids happy."

Now that I thought about it, she did know how to win kids over.

A Lego set and a few sweet words, and a six-year-old would think she's amazing.

But all those sleepless nights, the meals I cooked, the hospital runs, and the classes I sat through got chalked up as "what moms are supposed to do."

Mike ran over to grab the remote.

"Grandma, I want to watch cartoons," he said.

"No cartoons today," I said.

Aurora stuck up for him. "He's been at school all day. Can't he unwind for a bit?"

I snatched the remote away. "He insulted me today, so no cartoons."

Aurora got defensive. "Why are you making such a big deal about a six-year-old?"

I looked at her. "Funny how you never remembered he's only six when you were teaching him to disrespect me."

Her face turned sour. "Don't you dare slander me like that."

I ignored her.

I went into the kitchen and made myself some pasta with greens.

I only made one plate of pasta.

Aurora stood in the doorway.

"What's Mike having for dinner?" she asked.

"You can make it for him," I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance.

She acted like she didn't understand.

"Didn't you make dinner?" she asked.

"I only made mine," I said.

"Sylvie, what do you mean?" Aurora asked.

I brought my pasta out and sat down at the table.

"From now on, whoever cares about him will cook for him," I said.

Mike sat on the couch, staring at me in a daze.

I never let him go hungry before.

Even if he'd thrown a tantrum and flung his fork at me, I'd still turn around and head into the kitchen to whip up some fried eggs, make him a sandwich, or slice up some fruit for him.

But today, I didn't.

Aurora stormed into the kitchen, slamming pots and pans around in a huff.

Ten minutes later, she brought out a plate of fried eggs, burnt and unappetizing.

Mike took a bite and frowned. "This tastes awful."

Aurora's face fell. "Eat it anyway."

He looked at me. "Mom, I want your cooking."

I kept my head down, eating my pasta.

"Not today," I said.

His eyes turned red. "You don't love me anymore."

That always got to me before.

Every time he said, "Mom, don't you love me anymore?" my heart would ache.

I'd hug him, kiss him, and reassure him over and over, "Of course I love you."

But today, I set my fork down.

"Love doesn't mean you can hurt me whenever you feel like it," I said.

He didn't get it.

But he knew that crying wasn't going to work this time.

At 9 PM, Calvin walked in the door.

He had a paper bag in his hand.

I knew instantly that it was from Caroline's favorite dessert place.

Mike dashed over.

"Dad!" he called out.

Calvin bent down to hug him, handing him the paper bag at the same time.

"Caroline brought this for you," he said.

Mike ripped it open, grinning from ear to ear.

Inside was a box of macarons.

Aurora couldn't help but smile. "Caroline is so thoughtful."

I sat down on the couch.

"Calvin, we need to talk," I said.

He paused, mid-motion, as he was taking off his coat.

"About what?" he asked.

"Let's talk about how you talk about me in front of Mike," I said.

Calvin shot Mike a look. "What did Mike say?"

I repeated the Moretorian phrase.

He didn't look surprised, but annoyed at being caught.

"Sylvie, can you stop being so sensitive?" he said.

I asked, "Did you say that?"

He tugged at his tie. "I was joking around."

"Joking with whom?" I pressed.

He stayed silent.

I said it for him. "Caroline?"

Aurora jumped in right away. "Why are you bringing up Caroline?

"She's innocent. Don't go twisting things and making her out to be something she's not."

I looked at Aurora. "Innocent enough to buy my son desserts and make him compare me to her, huh?"

Calvin frowned. "Don't make things uglier than they already are."

I laughed sarcastically. "I'm already the fat pig in this story. How much uglier do you want it to get?"

Calvin choked, lost for words.

Mike sat off to the side, holding a macaron.

He looked at me, then at his dad.

He finally whispered, "Mom, can you stop fighting?"

I asked, "Why?"

He said, "Dad works so hard to make money."

A six-year-old wouldn't start feeling sorry for his dad out of nowhere unless someone had been drilling that into him every single day.

I looked at Aurora.

She avoided my gaze.

It hit me then that Mike didn't turn out like this overnight.

He'd been soaking up all the little digs and disrespect the adults let slip every day, picking up on it one word at a time.

I stood up.

"Calvin, let's get a divorce," I said.

The TV was still playing.

But in the living room, nobody said a word.

A few seconds later, Aurora broke the silence. "Are you out of your mind?"