Not, We wanted you here.
We brought you.
I heard obligation in it.
Maybe even ownership.
I looked at Ethan.
He had returned to his toys.
“Go ride your Jet Skis,” I said.
Emily let out a breath.
“We don’t have to.”
“I said go.”
“You’re going to be mad all day now.”
“No. I’m going to take my grandson for lunch.”
Brian put a hand on Emily’s back.
“We’ll talk later.”
They left.
We never did talk later.
That afternoon Ethan spilled juice down the front of his shirt.
I rinsed it in the sink.
His suitcase was in my room, so I had become the one keeping track of clean clothes.
That night he woke crying because his stomach hurt.
I sat with him in the bathroom until he got sick.
I cleaned him.
Changed the sheets.
Found a trash bag.
Held a cool washcloth against his forehead.
At two-thirty in the morning, I texted Emily.
Ethan is sick. Can you come over?
No response.
I called.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
At three-twelve, Brian finally texted.
Just saw this. We were asleep. Coming over.
They arrived ten minutes later.
Emily looked worried.
“How bad?”
“He threw up twice.”
She touched Ethan’s forehead.
“No fever.”
Brian yawned.
“Probably something he ate.”
I handed Emily the washcloth.
She looked at me.
“What?”
“He wants you.”
Ethan reached for her.
For a moment, I saw my daughter as a mother rather than as the woman I had been arguing with.
She sat beside him immediately.
She stroked his hair.
That softened me.
It reminded me why I kept making excuses for her.
Emily was not cruel to her son.
She was not someone I thought of as cruel at all.
She could be impatient.
Self-centered sometimes.
Too quick to assume family would rearrange itself around her needs.
But she loved Ethan.
She had loved her father.
She loved me.
At least I believed she did.
That was what made the next day hurt.
Ethan felt better by morning.
Emily suggested he stay with me “just in case” while she and Brian went to lunch.
I almost refused.
Then Ethan crawled into my lap and asked if we could build another sandcastle.
I said yes.
The day passed quietly.
We walked along the beach.
He dug a hole deep enough to convince himself he had found China.
We split a hamburger.
He fell asleep on my bed at four in the afternoon.
I sat on the balcony alone and watched boats move across the water.
For the first time, I stopped pretending the trip had gone the way Emily promised.
I was angry.
But underneath the anger was something worse.
Embarrassment.
I had told people about this trip.
My friend Susan had said, “What a thoughtful daughter.”
I had agreed.
At church the Sunday before we left, two women told me how lucky I was.
I had smiled and said Emily knew I needed a change of scenery.
Now I wondered whether my loneliness had simply made me useful.
Our final full day was Monday.
Emily and Brian spent most of the afternoon away.
Ethan and I stayed near the hotel.
At dinner, I expected we would finally eat together.
Instead, Emily texted at seven.
We grabbed something. Hope you two had fun today.
I stared at the screen.
Ethan was already asleep.
I ordered soup downstairs, carried it outside, and ate alone at a table facing the water.
The sun was setting.
People stood near the railing taking photographs.
A couple about my age held hands as they walked past me.
I had to look away.
Julian had been gone eleven months.
Grief had become less sharp by then, but certain things still found the exact place that hurt.
I finished my soup and walked along the edge of the property.
For twenty minutes, I let myself be somewhere other than Mom or Grandma.
Just me.
A woman standing by the ocean.
When I finally went upstairs, I carried my sandals in one hand because the strap had started rubbing my heel.
As I approached Emily and Brian’s room, I heard Brian laugh.
Their door was not fully shut.
Maybe an inch remained open.
I would have kept walking if I had not heard the word babysitter.
“Six days of a babysitter here would have cost us a fortune.”
I stopped.
Emily said something too quietly for me to catch.
Then Brian laughed again.
“I told you your mom would be cheaper than the hotel babysitter.”
There was a pause.
Emily laughed.
“Not cheaper. Free.”
My hand tightened around my sandals.
I stood perfectly still.
There are moments when anger arrives immediately.
This was not one of them.
First came confusion.
Not because I had misunderstood the words.
Because I understood them too well.
I wanted the conversation to turn into something else.
I wanted Emily to say, That’s awful, don’t talk about my mother like that.
Instead, Brian said, “You have to admit, it worked.”
Emily lowered her voice.
“I knew she’d say yes once Ethan was involved.”
Something cold settled in my stomach.
Then Brian asked, “Did you tell her about tomorrow yet?”
“No.”
“You need to.”
“I will in the morning.”
“What if she says no?”
Emily laughed softly.
“With Ethan, I can always make her feel guilty.”