Now the buffer was gone.
I called Greg back.
He answered on the first ring, sounding breathless.
“Heather, thank God. Are you coming back?”
“No, Greg. I’m calling to tell you to stop sending me updates,” I stated plainly. “How are things with Brenda?”
He groaned.
“It’s awful. She expects Sarah to do everything you did. Sarah asked her to watch Leo for 20 minutes so she could shower, and Brenda refused. She said she’s a guest and it’s not her job.”
“I see,” I murmured.
“Sarah is crying in the bedroom.”
Greg continued, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“We don’t have any any clean plates. The internet got shut off this morning because the bill wasn’t paid. Heather, please just come fix this.”
“Greg, you are a father and a husband. Step up, pay your bills, wash your plates, and if your mother is a burden, you need to handle her.”
I hung up before he could respond.
It sounded harsh, but it was the truth.
They had grown completely comfortable outsourcing their adulthood to me.
The discomfort they were feeling now wasn’t a crisis.
It was just reality finally catching up with them.
By Thursday, the tension reached a boiling point.
I was sitting at a small cafe, enjoying a blueberry muffin, when Sarah actually managed to track me down.
She didn’t call.
She showed up.
I saw her car pull into the lot across the street.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her blouse was wrinkled, and the dark circles under her eyes were prominent.
She marched up to my table, planting her hands on the surface.
“How can you do this?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “How can you just abandon your family?”
I took a slow sip of my tea.
“Have a seat, Sarah. People are staring.”