Chapter 2 - What They Decided
Daniel’s words stayed in my head long after the call ended.
They had already made a decision about Lily.
I asked him what that meant, but he couldn’t explain immediately. Rebecca was downstairs shouting his name, and Emma had apparently locked herself inside her bedroom.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he whispered.
“No. Daniel, tell me now.”
“I only know what Emma heard.”
“What did she hear?”
Footsteps sounded on his end.
Then his voice dropped.
“They were talking about excluding Lily from something.”
The line went dead.
I called back.
No answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I stared at my phone while Lily slept beside me, one small hand beneath her cheek.
Excluding Lily.
It shouldn’t have surprised me.
There had always been differences between the grandchildren.
They were small enough that I had convinced myself they didn’t matter.
Mom bought Emma expensive birthday dresses and gave Lily books.
Mom attended every one of Emma’s dance recitals but had missed Lily’s preschool Christmas program because Rebecca “needed help preparing for a party.”
At Easter, Mom posted twelve pictures of Emma and one blurry photograph containing Lily’s shoulder.
I had noticed.
I had swallowed it.
I had told myself love did not have to look equal to be real.
Now I wondered if I had simply been afraid to admit the truth.
The next morning, Lily refused to wear blue.
She stood in front of her closet wearing pajamas and shook her head whenever I suggested something.
“What about your yellow shirt?”
“No dress.”
“Okay.”
“Not flowers.”
“Okay.”
I crouched beside her.
“You can wear whatever feels comfortable.”
She chose gray sweatpants and a purple T-shirt.
At breakfast she barely touched her cereal.
I texted her preschool teacher explaining that we were keeping her home.
Then I called my friend Natalie.
Natalie and I had known each other since community college. She was the sort of friend who listened until you finished before deciding what she thought.
When I told her what happened, she was silent for several seconds.
“She threw a skillet?”
“The food. The skillet fell.”
“At a four-year-old.”
“Yes.”
“And your mother blamed you.”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
I sat at the kitchen counter.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re telling this story like you’re still trying to make it sound reasonable.”
That hurt because it was true.
Natalie continued, “If somebody at a restaurant did that to Lily, would you call it a disagreement?”
“No.”
“If a stranger did it?”
“No.”
“Then stop giving Rebecca a family discount.”
Family discount.
The phrase stayed with me.
“How’s Lily?”
“Scared.”
“Then that’s the only thing that matters today.”
At 10:03, Mom called again.
This time I answered.
“Are you ready to talk calmly?” she asked.
No hello.
No how is Lily.
“I’m calm.”
“Good. Rebecca is extremely upset about the accusations you made.”
“What accusations?”
“That she intentionally attacked Lily.”
“She intentionally threw food.”
“She lost her temper.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
Mom sighed.
“This is exactly what I mean. You always turn everything into an argument.”
I almost admired the efficiency.
She could transform my response to someone else’s aggression into evidence of my aggression in less than thirty seconds.
“Why were you and Rebecca talking about Lily before we arrived?”
Silence.
Not long.
Maybe two seconds.
But it was enough.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer me.”
“Daniel needs to stay out of this.”
“Then it’s true.”
Mom exhaled sharply.
“We were discussing the family photographs.”
“That’s all?”
“We were discussing several things.”
“What things?”
“Claire, this is not a conversation for the phone.”
“Then come here.”
She went quiet.
I surprised both of us.
Mom rarely came to my house.
I went to hers.
Everyone did.
Her house was family headquarters.
Birthdays, holidays, Sunday dinner, announcements, arguments, apologies—they all happened under her roof.
“Come here,” I repeated. “Without Rebecca.”
“I don’t like being ordered around.”
“Neither did my four-year-old when Rebecca ordered me to change her clothes.”
Another silence.
“I’ll be there at noon.”
She arrived at 12:18.
Mom was never late.
That told me she had spent eighteen minutes deciding what version of events to present.
I asked Natalie to take Lily to the park before Mom arrived.
For the first time in my life, I did not want my mother speaking freely around my child.
Mom entered carrying a paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“A new dress for Lily.”
I stared at it.
“You bought her a dress?”
“To replace the one that was ruined.”
She held it toward me.
I didn’t take it.
“Does it come with an apology?”
“Claire.”
“Because otherwise it’s just fabric.”
She placed the bag on my counter.
“Can we sit?”
We sat across from each other.
Mom folded her hands.
“I understand you’re upset.”
“No. You understand I’m not obeying you.”
Her jaw tightened.
“This attitude is unnecessary.”
“What did you decide about Lily?”
Mom looked toward the window.
“It wasn’t a decision.”
“Daniel said it was.”
“Daniel wasn’t part of the conversation.”
“Emma heard it.”
That changed her expression.
“She’s a child.”
“So is Lily.”
Mom rubbed her forehead.
“The family photographs were supposed to be used for your grandfather’s seventieth birthday album.”
“My grandfather died six years ago.”
She blinked.
Then corrected herself.
“Your uncle. I meant your uncle’s retirement album.”
I stared at her.
Mom almost never misspoke.
And she definitely did not confuse a dead man’s birthday with her brother’s retirement.
“You’re lying.”
“I am not.”
“You just invented an album.”
Her face hardened.
“This interrogation is ridiculous.”
I leaned forward.
“Then tell me the truth.”
Mom stood.
“This is why Rebecca gets frustrated with you.”
There it was again.
Rebecca.
Always Rebecca.
I stayed seated.
“You came here because you thought you could control the conversation. You can’t.”
Mom picked up her purse.
“Call me when you’re prepared to act like an adult.”
I almost let her leave.
Then I remembered Lily asking whether grandmas could be wrong.
“Mom.”
She stopped.
“If you walk out without telling me what you and Rebecca decided about my daughter, you won’t see Lily until you do.”
Mom slowly turned.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“You cannot use a child to punish your family.”
“I’m protecting her from people who refuse to explain why she was targeted.”
Her face went pale.
Not angry.
Pale.
That frightened me more.
Finally she sat down again.
“There is something you should know.”
I waited.
“Rebecca believes Emma has become too attached to Lily.”
I stared.
“They’re cousins.”
“She thinks the relationship is affecting Emma.”
“How?”
“Emma copies Lily.”
I almost laughed.
The dress.
Of course.
Rebecca had accused Lily of copying Emma while privately complaining Emma copied Lily.
Mom continued.
“Emma asks to see Lily constantly. She wants to wear what Lily wears. She repeats things Lily says.”
“They’re little girls who love each other.”
“Rebecca wants Emma to develop her own identity.”
“So what was the decision?”
Mom looked at me.
“She wanted the girls to spend less time together.”
“How much less?”
“A temporary break.”
“How long?”
Mom didn’t answer.
“How long?”
“Until school starts.”
It was May.
Three months.
My stomach dropped.
“And you agreed?”
“I thought some distance could calm things down.”
“You decided to separate two little girls because Rebecca is jealous of their relationship?”
“That’s unfair.”
“Then explain it fairly.”
Mom’s voice softened.
“You don’t understand what Rebecca is dealing with.”
There was something underneath those words.
Something different.
“What is she dealing with?”
Mom looked at the paper bag containing the replacement dress.
“She’s afraid of losing Emma.”
I frowned.
“To Lily?”
“No.”
“Then to who?”
Mom stood again.
“I’ve said enough.”
“No, you haven’t.”
She walked toward the door.
I followed.
“Mom.”
Her hand reached the knob.
“Why is Rebecca afraid of losing Emma?”
She opened the door.
Daniel was standing on my porch.
Emma stood beside him holding a pink backpack.
Mom froze.
Daniel looked past her directly at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know where else to take her.”
Emma’s face was streaked with tears.
Mom whispered, “Daniel, don’t.”
He ignored her.
May you like
Then Emma looked at me and said the words that changed everything.
“Aunt Claire, Mommy said she wishes you had never had Lily.”
