Chapter 2

A moment earlier, the house had hummed with noise: calls for food, calls for Grandma, the thud of shoes being kicked off, the clink of water being poured. Then everything fell silent at once.

Only my little granddaughter, Lily, too young to understand, spoke up in her clear, innocent voice. "That's Grandpa and Grandma Margaret. Mom said today their photo looks nicer than their wedding pictures."

My daughter-in-law, Linda, quickly pulled Lily aside and chided her in a low voice. "Don't say that."

I looked at them, enunciating every word. "You all knew about this, didn't you?"

No one said a word.

Charles was the first to break the silence. "Mom, it's not that big of a deal.

"It was a marriage license from way back. Dad and Aunt Margaret never actually lived as husband and wife.

"Is it worth making such a fuss over now?"

I stared at him, barely able to believe my ears.

I echoed, my voice shaking. "Never lived together?

"She got the official status; I got all the hardship. And now you're telling me to let it go?

"Do you all think I was born to be the one who always gets screwed over?"

Lynn, her eyes red, reached for my hand.

She said, "Mom, I didn't mean for you to see it. I never thought you'd come across it."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, you never thought I'd see it. That's why you all felt free to let the truth slip out."

Charles grew annoyed.

He said, "Mom, that's enough. Dad has spent most of his life with you. Everyone knows you are Mrs. Wade.

"What more do you want? Must you tear this family apart to be satisfied?

"And another thing, we come home from work to no hot meal on the table. Do you not think that is selfish of you?"

Am I selfish?

When I was young, and there was barely enough to eat, I always set his portion first.

When he was a kid and ran a fever, I carried him on my back, running around all night to find a doctor.

Every step of the way, from his wedding to buying a house and raising the kids, wasn't I always the one working myself to the bone?

And now he calls me selfish.

Lily peeked out from behind Linda, whispering, "Grandma, don't be mad. Grandma Margaret says getting angry makes you ugly."

I said, "Then go to Grandma Margaret from now on."

With that, I turned and walked into my bedroom.

I grabbed an old cloth bag and packed my ID card, bankbook, medicine box, and two sets of clothes.

Charles stormed in, blocking the doorway, his face flushed with anger.

He demanded, "What are you doing?"

I said, "I'm moving out."

He snapped, "Are you out of your mind? At your age, who will look after you if you leave?"

He reached for my bag, but I stepped back.

I said, "Move."

He did not budge, his voice harsher still. "Mom, I'm telling you, stop being dramatic. If you walk out that door today, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

I could bear no more. I shoved him hard.

I shouted, "Get out of my way. My greatest regret is that all these years, I never found the courage to walk out."

Outside, Lynn clutched her phone, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

She dialed Michael, tears streaming down her face.

Lynn pleaded, her voice trembling, "Dad, please come home right now. Mom found out. She's leaving."

***** I returned to the old house my mother had left me.

It was not large: two small rooms and a tiny balcony.

I threw open the window, grabbed a rag, and started cleaning right from the doorway.

Halfway through, I tossed the rag aside and suddenly burst out laughing.

This habit of cleaning up after everyone was impossible to break.