“I am not babysitting your kids.”
Mom stood up.
Her face changed the second she realized I wasn’t going to rescue her from the lie.
“You said yes already,” she snapped. “Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone.”
The room went quiet.
I actually wondered for half a second if I’d somehow forgotten agreeing.
That’s what years of being volunteered can do to you.
Then I remembered both conversations perfectly.
“No, Mom. I said no twice.”
Jason looked irritated.
“We already booked the cabin.”
“I didn’t tell you to.”
“Mom said it was handled.”
“Then Mom should handle it.”
Mom stared at me.
“You’re really going to ruin Christmas over this?”
That sentence settled something inside me.
Because apparently I could have my work dismissed, my time reassigned, and my answer rewritten in front of the family.
But if I refused to cooperate afterward, I was ruining Christmas.
I put my glass down.
“I won’t be available December twenty-third through the twenty-sixth.”
Mom folded her arms.
“You’re working the whole time?”
“No.”
That seemed to offend her even more.
“What could possibly be more important?”
I smiled.
“I’ll let you know.”
Then I left.
That night, I opened my laptop for something that had nothing to do with work.
I had credit-card points I’d been hoarding for two years.
I also had money set aside for a vacation I kept postponing because there was always another deadline, another family favor, another reason it wasn’t the right time.
I booked four nights in Nassau.
Ocean view.
Adults-only resort.
Flight leaving Denver on December twenty-second.
Then I did something less glamorous but more important.
My mother had an emergency key to my apartment.
The next morning, I called my building manager.
I changed the lock.
I removed her from my emergency access list.
Then I texted Jason and Stephanie directly.
“I want this in writing so nobody is confused. I will not be babysitting December 23–26. I will not be home. Please arrange other childcare.”
Stephanie replied:
“Okay.”
Jason sent a thumbs-up.
Mom sent nothing.
For the next two weeks, nobody mentioned Christmas childcare again.
I assumed they had finally made other arrangements.
That assumption lasted until December twenty-third.
I was in Nassau, sitting under an umbrella beside the pool with an iced coffee sweating onto the little table next to me.
My phone buzzed.
Doorbell notification.
I opened the camera.
There was my mother.
Standing outside my apartment in Denver.
Behind her were Jason and Stephanie.
Three children.
Three large suitcases.
A portable crib.
A diaper bag.
Emma had her arms crossed over her winter coat.
Oliver was hopping from foot to foot.
Stephanie was holding Sky.
My mother knocked again.
Then she reached into her purse.
I knew exactly what she was searching for.
The old emergency key.
She put it into my lock.
It didn’t turn.
She tried again.
Then again.
Her face changed.
My phone rang.
MOM.
I let it ring while I took one slow sip of iced coffee.
A second call came in.