“Either I walked away from that job,” Megan said, “or my body was going to give out completely. I’m thirty-five, Linda. My health is already wrecked.”
Linda pressed her lips into a hard line. A part of her may have felt sorry, but her own resentment was louder.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she snapped. “So you felt bad. In the nineties we had no money at all, raised children anyway, and somehow nobody died. You’ve just gotten lazy, Megan. My son spoiled you.”
“We’re going to live on one income now,” Megan continued, her voice low, her eyes fixed on the table. “That means cutting back on everything. Including what we give you. You have your Social Security.”
“Social Security!” Linda threw up her hands. “What am I supposed to buy with that—bread and milk? I’m used to living decently. I need vitamins. I need treatments. I’m his mother, for God’s sake. I have rights!”
Eric came into the kitchen then. He wore sweatpants, his jaw dark with stubble, his face drawn with exhaustion. Without a word, he stepped behind his wife and rested both hands on her shoulders.
“Mom. Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m trying to talk sense into her!” Linda turned on him. “Eric, say something! She’s decided to sit at home, and I’m just supposed to be tossed aside?”
“Mom, there’s no money.”
“What do you mean, no money? You have a job!”
“We’re paying off what it cost to get Megan back on her feet. And…” He exhaled heavily. “And we can’t keep funding your whims anymore. That wasn’t help, Mom. That was support.”
“Support?” Heat rushed into Linda’s face. “You ungrateful boy. I gave you my whole life. I never remarried because I didn’t want to bring some stepfather into your home. And now you’re going to shame me over a piece of bread?”
“The money went to taxis, restaurants, and new purses,” Megan said softly. “While I was walking around in worn-out clothes.”
“Don’t you dare count my money!” Linda shouted. “It was mine!”
“No,” Megan replied. “It was my money, Linda. Money I earned while swallowing anxiety drops by the handful just to get through the day.”
“Give me back the card!” Linda sprang up. “I don’t care if it’s empty. It belongs to me. I’ll decide what to do with it!”
She thrust out her hand. Megan slowly took the plastic card from her pocket and turned it between her fingers.
“Give it back! I’m used to having it!” Linda cried.
Megan lifted her gaze. There was no submission left in it.
“No.”
“What? Eric, do you hear this? She’s taking my card!”
Eric moved toward the table. But instead of reaching for the card, he silently placed a pawnshop receipt in front of his mother.
The yellow slip landed on the oilcloth between them. Linda went still. Her eyes snagged on the familiar printed lines: Gold chain, 15 grams. Pledger: Linda.
A thick, suffocating silence settled over the kitchen.
“Where did you…” she rasped.
“I found it,” Eric said, his voice hollow. “Three months ago. You asked me to look in your purse for the lake house keys, remember? That’s when I saw it.”
Linda took a step back.
“Eric, I… I can explain…”
“The day Megan’s chain disappeared,” he said. “The one her father gave her. You were visiting us then. You were helping sort through the things in the closet.”