All week, I’d believed she’d wanted me gone.
“I thought you were telling him to send me home.”
Stephanie shook her head.
“No. I’d made enough for three.”
Joel shut the refrigerator.
“Mom, don’t make this into something.”
“Then why did you send me away?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Because I thought you’d want to get home.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You’re always saying Dad’s waiting.”
“Your father cooks his own dinner, Joel.”
Stephanie looked startled.
“I didn’t know that was why you left so quickly.”
“It isn’t,” I said.
Joel folded his arms.
“Can we not have an argument tonight?”
I looked at the table.
There were three chairs.
One had my handbag on it.
I moved the bag.
“I’m not arguing. I’m asking why you never think to make room for me.”
He had no answer.
I drank my tea.
