Chapter 1

When I ordered takeout for my mom, I used a coupon—ten dollars off if you spent thirty-eight.

She poked around her meal with a fork, flipping things over like she was searching for evidence.

Then she shot me a look and said, "So this is what I'm worth now? I get one thousand five hundred a month in retirement, and I'm only good enough for discounted food? Do I not count as a person to you?"

I froze for a second before rushing to explain, "Mom, it's not 'discounted'. It's a platform coupon. Your steak was thirty-five after the coupon. My pasta was only twelve dollars at full price."

I figured she'd get it.

Instead, she suddenly grabbed the steak and hurled it straight at my face. "My son told me restaurants only discount food when it's dirty, unsafe, or about to expire. You're trying to poison me, aren't you?"

*****

The steak slid off my face, smeared across my white sweater, rolled down my pants, and finally landed on the cold floor.

Hot grease splashed into my eyes, stinging so badly I sucked in a breath and hurried to wipe them with a tissue.

My mom, Linda, kept pointing at my nose, yelling nonstop. "Evelyn, I'm your mother. How could you treat me like this?

"Your brother has told you again and again. He said you should never eat discounted food just to save money. That kind of food is expired.

"He said my health comes first. Money doesn't matter at all. But look at you. Take a good look at what you bought me."

When I finally managed to open my eyes, tears spilled out.

I tried to explain, keeping my voice steady. "That isn't discounted food. It's a platform coupon. Anyone can use it as long as they meet the minimum. It just saves money. There is nothing wrong with the food."

She jabbed a finger at my pasta and shouted, "Then what about yours? Was yours discounted too?"

I explained again, slowly, "Mine was only twelve dollars at full price. It didn't even qualify for the coupon. Mom, please eat. It's going to get cold."

"I still have to rush back to the hospital after this. David has to work this afternoon, and I need to go relieve him."

"Eat my ass," she snapped.

This time, she dumped the entire container straight into the trash.

She continued, "I get fifteen hundred dollars a month in retirement. Why should I eat this cheap crap? I'm not eating it. Go make me something else. I want lasagna."

Normally, I would have done exactly what she asked and cooked for her properly. But today, I couldn't.

My two-year-old daughter, Anna, had a viral infection and was hospitalized with a high fever. I hadn't slept all night. It wasn't until noon that my husband, David Walker, came to take over for me.

I came back home just to grab a few things and fix something for her to eat.

She never stepped into the kitchen. I always cooked and brought the food straight to her.

But today, I really had no choice.

That was why I ordered takeout for her.

I was running out of time. As I pulled off my stained sweater, I said to her, "If this doesn't work for you, you can eat at the restaurant downstairs. I really have to go. If Anna doesn't see me, she'll start crying."

She stepped right in front of me, blocking the way with her foot. "So when she makes a fuss, you run to her, but when I do, I don't matter?

"Evelyn, filial duty comes first. There's an order to things. I'm your mother. I should come before anyone else."

I was furious.

I took a deep breath. "Mom, you're a grown adult. Why are you competing with a child for attention?

"She's two years old. She doesn't even understand what's going on. You're sixty-three. How is that the same?

"I already told you, if you don't want takeout, go eat downstairs. Order whatever you want. I'll give you two hundred dollars. Is that not enough?"

She crossed her arms and looked at me sideways. "I don't care. I'm your mother. You deal with me first.

"So what, just because I'm old, I'm supposed to give in to everyone else? I deserve to be ignored?"

Just then, David called on video. Anna was burning up, half-conscious, crying and calling for me.

"Come quick," he said. "She won't stay still for the IV. She keeps pulling at it and crying for you."

My chest tightened. I tried to step over Linda's foot.

She grabbed my arm. "Evelyn, you only care about your daughter. You've never cared about me.

"You've completely broken my heart. I'm telling you right now, if you don't fix this meal situation, you're not walking out that door."

I completely lost it. "Anna is crying like that. Don't you feel anything at all? Mom, you act up all the time, but can you please stop today, just for once?"

She wouldn't let go. "I don't care. I'm sixty-three. How many years do I even have left? If I don't look out for myself, who will? Evelyn, your brother Owen..."

Owen? She mentioned him again.

Something in me snapped.

I shouted, "Everything is 'Owen said this, Owen said that'. If he's so good to you, then go find him. Let him cook for you. Go. Tell him to stop acting like a saint who only talks. Anyone can say a few nice words."

That shut her up.

It was the sore spot she never let anyone touch.

Because Owen's wife, Samantha, wouldn't let her set foot in their house.

Every time she went, she got thrown out. Every visit turned into a fight.

After it happened a few times, Owen laid down the rules.

Except for one meal together at Christmas, she was never allowed to step into his home again.