Chương 5
“I can see that.”
“So either celebrate him or leave.”
Dad looked up.
Patrick said, “Come on, Allison.”
“No.”
The word came out quieter than I expected.
Patrick stared at me.
My mother did too.
For once, quiet did not mean surrender.
It meant there was nothing left to negotiate.
My mother looked past me toward Ethan as if she expected him to disappear if she ignored him long enough.
Then she looked back at me.
“You are making a mistake.”
“Maybe.”
That answer unsettled her more than an argument would have.
My father shifted his weight and cleared his throat.
“Allison, nobody came here to make a scene.”
“Then don’t.”
Patrick gave a humorless laugh.
“You think you’re being clever.”
“I’m trying to get through my son’s birthday.”
Jessica finally spoke.
Her voice was softer than Patrick’s, but there was a thin edge beneath it.
“Lily asked why Ethan gets to celebrate when she lost something she was looking forward to.”
I looked at her.
“What did you tell her?”
Jessica glanced at Patrick.
“That life isn’t always fair.”
“Good.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“So I’m confused about why everyone’s standing in my backyard.”
Patrick stepped closer.
“Because Mom has spent two days sick over this.”
“Patrick.”
Dad’s warning came quietly.
“No, Dad, she should hear it.”
Patrick pointed toward the house.
“Mom has done nothing but worry about Allison for years, and this is the thanks she gets.”
I felt the old machinery start turning inside me again.
He was good at this.
We all were.
One sentence about gratitude, and suddenly the subject was no longer Ethan’s birthday.
It was every check Mom had written, every ride Dad had given, every hour Patrick had spent fixing something I could not afford to replace.
Debt became character.
Help became evidence.
I could already feel the apology forming.
Then a soccer ball struck the fence hard enough to rattle it.
Marcus shouted, “Sorry, Mrs. Carter.”
I turned automatically.
“You’re fine.”
Ethan was still staring at us.
I smiled at him.
“Keep playing.”
He hesitated.
Then he kicked the ball toward Jamal.
The game restarted, badly at first.
The boys were listening while pretending not to.
My mother folded her arms.
“You’re teaching him disrespect.”
“No.”
“You just contradicted me in front of him.”
“I disagreed with you.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
I almost smiled.
For my mother, those two things had always been identical.
Dad looked toward the picnic table.
“There’s cake.”
His attempt to redirect the moment was so transparently desperate that Jessica actually looked embarrassed for him.
“Yes,” I said.
“There’s cake.”
Dad nodded as though cake had been accepted as a peace treaty.
My mother did not move.
Patrick glanced at her.
“Come on, Mom.”
“No.”
Her eyes stayed on me.
“I want Allison to explain why she thinks this is acceptable.”
A strange calm came over me.
Not courage exactly.
Exhaustion.
I had spent years trying to find combinations of words that would make my mother understand things she had no interest in understanding.
There was relief in finally abandoning the project.
“I don’t.”
She frowned.
“You don’t what?”
“I don’t think I owe you an explanation.”
Patrick made a disgusted sound.
Jessica touched his arm.
He pulled away from her without seeming to notice.
My mother stared at me for several seconds.
Then her face changed.
Not much.
Only enough for me to see the injury beneath the anger.
“You really have changed.”
There was sadness in her voice now.
That was more dangerous than fury.
My mother’s anger made resistance easy.
Her sadness made me feel eight years old.
“You used to care what happened to this family.”
I swallowed.
“I still do.”
“No, you care about yourself.”
My father looked at me as if silently asking me to let that one go.
I almost did.
Then Ethan laughed behind me.
It was a quick, breathless sound because Ben had apparently tripped over the soccer net and taken half of it down with him.
Everyone yelled.
The party surged on around our little circle of resentment.
I looked at my mother.
“I care about him.”
She followed my eyes toward Ethan.
“And you think I don’t?”
I did not answer.
That was worse.
Her face went pale.
“Allison.”
“I think you love him.”
“But?”
I could hear Patrick breathe out through his nose.
Dad muttered, “This isn’t the time.”
My mother ignored him.
“But what?”
I kept my voice low.
“But I think you expect him to lose so other people don’t have to feel uncomfortable.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“The golden egg at Easter.”
Her expression sharpened.
“What?”
“Ethan found it.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“You made him give it to Lily.”
“She was six.”
“He was seven.”
“That was years ago.”
“The Christmas bicycle.”
Patrick groaned.
“Here we go.”
I looked at him.
“Mom bought Lily a bicycle and told Ethan she didn’t know what boys liked.”
“She got him a gift.”
“A gift card.”
“So?”
“So she had a two-page list from me.”
My mother shook her head.
“I cannot believe you’ve been keeping this kind of score.”
“That’s what Patrick said yesterday.”
“Because it’s true.”
I nodded slowly.
“Maybe it is.”
That surprised them.
All three of them went quiet.
“I probably have been keeping score.”
I looked at my father.
“I don’t like that about myself.”
Then I looked at Mom.
“But maybe I started because I was tired of pretending I couldn’t see the scoreboard.”
Nobody answered.
The words felt too neat once they were out, almost rehearsed, and I hated that.
I rubbed my thumb against a smear of blue frosting on my palm.
“I don’t want to do this here.”
“Then you shouldn’t have created this situation,” Mom said.
That snapped something back into place.
“I created a birthday party.”
“You created division.”
“No.”
My voice rose before I could stop it.
May you like
“You brought division through my side gate.”
The boys went quiet again.
