Chapter 1
I had a monthly pension of about 10 thousand, and I only spent 15 bucks on a pack of cigarettes.
But my son's wife, Bella, got in my face and started cursing me out in front of her family members.
I didn't argue, not even a single word. I just packed up my stuff and left without a word.
Fifteen days later, she was at my door, crying her eyes out, begging me to come back.
*****
Today was my sixty-fifth birthday.
The heat in the hotel's private room was cranked up so high that it made my head swim.
The noisy chatter, mixed with the smell of booze and greasy food, was like a suffocating net, wrapping me up tight.
My daughter-in-law, Bella, her face flushed from the drinks, was all smiles and mingled with her big crowd of relatives, glass in hand.
She called out, "William, dig in. I got this lobster just for you.
"Come on, Mom, have some of this fish. It's super fresh."
Her voice was loud and lively, full of over-the-top excitement, like she was the real hostess of the whole party, while I was just a nobody in the background.
Today was my birthday, and it was also my grandson Hank's sixteenth birthday.
Bella said it was a double celebration, so we had to go all out.
She booked the fanciest private room at the most upscale hotel in town, called up all her relatives, and every single guest was from her side of the family.
Two big tables were packed with people: exactly eighteen, no more, no less.
As for my side of the family, it was just me, my son Edward, and my grandson Hank.
I looked around at all those faces, familiar yet somehow still strangers, digging into the delicacies I paid for with my pension, acting like they totally deserved it.
A familiar restlessness burned in my chest. I needed a cigarette.
I told Hank, who was glued to his phone, that I was going out for a smoke. He didn't even look up, just mumbled a lazy "Yeah."
I got up and quietly slipped out of the private room.
The hotel corridor gleamed with luxury, the plush carpet muffling all but the soft thud of my own footsteps.
I made my way downstairs to the convenience store, where the guy behind the counter was half-asleep.
"A pack of cigarettes," I said quietly.
The guy replied, "15 bucks."
I fished out a few bills from my pocket: money I'd scrimped and saved from my 2 thousand monthly allowance.
After I paid, I gripped that fresh pack of cigarettes, and for the first time in ages, I felt a familiar sense of peace.
I didn't light up downstairs. I didn't want to risk Bella's getting on my case if I took too long.
But trouble still came knocking anyway.
The moment I pushed open the door to the private room, all eyes were suddenly on me.
Bella's gaze was like a laser, zeroing in on the pack of cigarettes in my hand.
Her smile froze, and in a flash, her expression turned dark and fierce, like a mask changing in a split second.
"Richard!" she screamed, calling me by my full name.
She lunged at me, snatched the cigarettes from my hand, and slammed them down on the floor.
The red cigarette pack bounced a few times on the floor before rolling under the table.
Bella yelled, "You old fossil! Can't wait to waste your money, huh?"
Her voice cut through the fake cheer in the room, and everyone stopped eating, watching me with curious eyes.
Bella shouted, "I see right through you, you ungrateful leech. You eat our food, live in our house, get about 10 thousand a month in pension, and don't pay a single cent toward the bills. And now you dare sneak around and buy such expensive cigarettes behind my back.
"Do you even have a conscience? How could you do this to Edward? To Hank?"
She stood there with her hands on her hips, spitting mad, practically spraying me in the face.
All eighteen pairs of eyes were glued to me: some waiting for the show, some sneering, and some even appearing to agree with her.
My blood rushed to my head, and my ears started ringing.
I couldn't believe my ears.
The place we were living in was around 1,900 square feet. I put down 200 thousand for the down payment, draining my entire life savings. That 4 thousand mortgage every month had been automatically deducted from my pension card, the one Bella snatched away from me.
Bella had been married to Edward for ten years, and she worked as a cashier at the supermarket for less than a year before quitting, calling it "taking care of the family" like it was some kind of noble sacrifice.
All these years, Bella and her whole clan had been like a pack of leeches, clinging to me and bleeding me dry.
The 70 thousand she handed her brother for his house, her parents' twice-yearly overseas vacations, that 2 thousand coat she was wearing: every last dime was scraped from my pension.
Yet, there she was, having the nerve to turn around and say I wasn't paying my share.
It was like an invisible hand was crushing my heart, squeezing so tight I could barely catch my breath from the pain.